Meghan Gilliss’s debut novel “Lungfish” dramatically transports the reader to an isolated island, the wind howls and the waves crash as life rages on. Tuck, the novel’s protagonist, becomes a symbol of the sacrifices many women make to protect the people they love the most. With grit, determination and enduring hope, it’s a story that hits hard and requires readers to ask themselves how much they would give to be healed.
After life begins to unravel in this literary fiction, Tuck, her husband Paul, and their young daughter Agnes leave their home in Pittsburgh in exchange for a house on an island in Maine, left vacant by the death of Tuck’s grandmother. They have no rights to the land, as it was left to Tuck’s father who has been missing for years, but with few other options, they decide it’s worth the risk to hide there until they can come up with a better plan.
The reader doesn’t fully understand the frigidity of Tuck and Paul’s marriage until the secret is revealed early in the novel’s 320 pages: Paul is addicted to kratom, a plant extract that mimics opioids. It was slowly draining the family finances, and the money that should have gone to food, clothing and shelter fed Paul’s addiction. And since they don’t live anywhere legally, they don’t qualify for food or housing assistance, leaving Tuck and Agnes at the mercy of whatever Paul brings home from the mainland. One of his supplies? Graham crackers, peanut butter, instant noodles and half a gallon of cheap milk.
In order to survive, Tuck begins foraging around the island, subsisting on whatever she and Agnes find: mussels, green crabs, devil’s tongue, bladder, seaweed, pomegranate. When they see starfish at low tide, Agnes asks, “Can I eat that, Mom?” They discover another way to make money: selling a bumper sticker kit found in her grandmother’s attic. Tuck’s creativity pushes the story forward as their dire situation grows.
Gillis’s writing is instinctive and even sharp. Tucka’s own internal thought process flows into the short conversations he has with other characters, to the point where the reader is sometimes unsure whether he is talking to another character or retreating into his own thoughts. While trying to keep herself, Agnes and Paul alive, she also relives her own past and remembers how her parents abandoned her, in different ways.
We learn that the island itself was a refuge in Tucka’s youth, and her grandmother taught her which plants were edible and how to fish. The woman was a calming presence in Tuck’s tumultuous family life. The island, as bleak and unforgiving as it is, is also what sustains her and her daughter Agnes, her grandmother’s namesake. It is a modern example of naturalism at its best, where nature can be seen as a force for survival as well as the source of our survival.
The book is captivating, descriptive and full of moving revelations about the rawness of nature and humanity. Tuck herself is a force, the embodiment of the ebb and flow of life. Sometimes she is completely absorbed in her tasks; sometimes she is detached in a way that makes the reader feel a pang of loneliness. Her resilience is palpable and reflects the strength of the island as she navigates circumstances that would break anyone. As she tries to control her family’s destiny amidst many things beyond her control, the reader never really knows if she will make it out alive. It is not clear until the last pages whether he can weather the storm or not. That’s riveting.