This novel is terrifying in what it reveals about the frailty of the human body and the systems on which we depend so readily to protect it, but this terror is almost entirely occluded by the beauty and generosity of Greenwell’s prose. This narrator is so giving, so delicate and honest-a poet in the most traditional sense. His discussion of art and writing, which is really a discussion of how and why to live, is breathtaking. As always, Greenwell’s sentences are labyrinthine, and I’m sure I will discover so much more upon rereading this novel, but more so than in his previous novels (which I also loved) they weren’t so much twisting the reader around as leading us delicately to water. Love love love!

✰ 3 stars ✰

“Maybe there are only ever provisional truths, about the big questions I mean, the questions about how to live, maybe only competing truths, and maybe that isn’t the same thing as no truths at all, maybe we have to take them as they come.”

If there is one thing reading Small Rain taught me is that before requesting an ARC, it would be advisable to get a scope of the author's writing style, before having to read a latest release of theirs. So that I can assess beforehand whether or not their writing style suits my palette, or at least I can have something to compare with, to determine whether or not it follows the similar pattern of their previous works. I have not read a novel by Garth Greenwell before; but the blurb sounded promising and intriguing enough for me to want to give it a try - which I did. And what I surmised is that I probably won't be inclined to read more of their works, but that does not mean I don't appreciate what he was trying to portray in his story.

“That feeling, the feeling of being loved, the surprise of it, had faded over the years, with domesticity and its constant minor frictions, its impediments to freedom; but it was still there, and it flooded me now.”

His latest work follows an unnamed Kentucky-native English teacher, as he relays his time spend in an Iowa hospital amidst the COVID pandemic, where he has been admitted for emergency treatment to the highly life-threatening infrarenal aortic dissection that if they had not caught sooner, could have resulted in immediate death. It is the way that he wrote it - by keeping the protagonist nameless - by referring to the people important to him in his life with only their initials - by only addressing the nurses and doctors assigned to his treatment with their full names - makes this approach a very familiar and hard-hitting one to those who have experienced such a feeling. 'You’re trying to make me feel small, the man said, you’re trying to use your intellect to make me feel small, and it’s not going to happen.' The feeling of not knowing what is going to happen to you - by being completely helpless against not only the ignorance of his medical team, by not knowing whether or not he'll heal - that innate fear that clings to one's heart as they try to cope - the embarrassment of being confined to the bed - forced to reveal all one's vulnerabilities and intimate exposures.

It was viscerally described, to the point that all the moments where said protagonist felt his humiliation and shame made me uncomfortable for him, capturing with vivid exposure what it feels when one is a hospital patient. The writing amplified it more so, perhaps by the lack of quotation marks when dialogue is initiated - to the palpable suffering of excruciating pain and daunting fear that a misstep could cost him his life - 'an ER doctor’s dream, you come in thinking you have something simple but it turns out to be much more interesting' - the anger and desire to hurt those who hold his life in his hands and fearing that they aren't taking him seriously. I admit some of the medical jargon and detailed descriptions of his treatment made me a bit uncomfortable and squeamish, along with the claustrophobic vibe of being confined to the bed, but if it were - then does that not mean the author succeeded in capturing it perfectly?

“Why should I feel aggrieved, I thought, if you want injustice, look there, dying at forty-five or fifty isn’t unjust. So you haven’t seized every moment of your life, who has; people die young every day, I said to myself, younger than you, why act like it’s such a tragedy.”

There was definitely a lack of love for nurses and doctors, worsened by how he had to face so much of it alone at first - no one to express their concerns for him - no one to ask about his well being and how long till he'll come out of his condition with updates about his progress - except for the occasional visit from his Spanish-speaking partner, L that presented even more of a language constraint for speaking up for him. But, towards the end of his ordeal, that irritation and judgmental views shifted to those of appreciation and gratitude - one that shined in how the nurturing care of those he had become so familiar with was one that he would miss out on. That he did not know if simply saying thank you would be enough; I liked that subtle inclusion. 'It’s like teaching, I guess, a relationship that engendered intensity but had transience built in, so that the sign of its success was its ending.' That despite their shortcomings and the unfortunate circumstances he had to face, we can't deny or ignore how much responsibility rests upon them - especially during a crisis as it is - it is not fair to be so callous in their regard of how they are doing whatever it takes to help him heal as swiftly as possible.

What kept it from being confined simply to his dealings with the incompetency and innate fear - his fierce desperation to heal was how with each current event gave us a reflection on his life - how a significant moment that somehow related to whatever he was going through at that time. It was that simple touch - those certain breaks that interrupted the flow of it being one long story - the gentle reminders of how between dealing with regular checkups and well-meaning caregivers, who irk more than help, provide an insightful look to the memories of his childhood, his studies, his relationships both with his family and L made it a much more personal story. It's the stream of consciousness that shows his own conscience as he battles his illness and the capabilities of those his life has been entrusted with. 'Why do we love what we love, why does so much fail to move us, why does so much pass by us unloved.' It's that stage of either grieving for missed opportunities or yearning for the chance to live again - the look back on regrets and mistakes and the hope that you can have the chance to make up for them. It's such a natural instinct - the power to live - to survive any disease that comes our way.

And that's what stood out for me; this balance the author crafted where it reads like something any person can relate to - an honest and expressive look at what any patient goes through when they are at this pivotal and extremely vulnerable moment where life and death could go either way and it's not only a battle against those who are entrusted to care for him, but also to look back on one's own life, to think about the mistakes made in one's journey and hoping for the promising of reaching a new destination, if all goes well. 'They were terms I could understand, being lost or saved by what one made or failed to make; and I had brought forth so little, I had laid up all my treasures for that future time I wouldn’t have now, maybe, the time that had been cut short.' And yes, at times, I did feel that the prose was meandering off a little too much into self-reflection that did not really amount to anything, but then I would be pulled back in, by the gripping intensity of whatever challenge the protagonist was facing at that time - be it, a faulty assessment or a neglectful inclination that prevented the plot from staying stagnant.

“I know it might be hard to hear but all of that can be a blessing, it can clarify what you care about, how you want to spend your time; and I remembered what L had said on his first visit, that it could remind us how we wanted to live.”

The other part that certainly merits a mention is the relationship between the narrator and L - one built on years of love and support - of trusting in each other through the good times and the bad - all those past arguments and insecurities - the tension that could have led to something more - for when it comes to the time to be there for each other - there is a beautiful heartfelt bond of believing that everything will be alright. 'I was surprised by how much I missed him, more than missed, how much I longed for him.' Even though it was only a couple of weeks in the hospital, the author gave us plenty of background into their history that made them into well-fleshed out characters that spoke more than just their initials - this deep-rooted love and affection that was sincere and palpable, when they made it through the roughest parts of their lives only to make it safely back into each other's hearts. How this difficult trial helped shape their love into something stronger and deeper that neither of them had any desire to ever break apart from.

So, to reiterate my initial thoughts - the writing was not to my tastes, but I do believe that there is a very concrete story buried underneath prose that takes awhile to get the hang off, but one that is deeply impactful and relatable that is both sympathetic and empathetic to those who have lived such an experience. It is summed up quite perfectly by the protagonist, himself - 'one of my favorite poems, authorless, mysterious, the first two lines unparsable: Westron wynde, when wyll thow blow, The smalle rayne downe can Rayne. As he explains its context and meaning behind it, you definitely get a wider appreciation for the rather puzzling and difficult to comprehend at times way in which Garth Greenwell wrote the story - wandering and wavering, yet underneath it all, 'isn’t the poem more beautiful for it, for the difficulty, for the way we can’t quite make sense of it - so that the poem becomes not just a message but an object of contemplation, of devotion even, inexhaustible.'

*Thank you to NetGalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

Thank you very VERY much to Farrar, Straus and Giroux and NetGalley for an ARC of this. Greenwell is one of my favorite authors, so reading this early has been such a massive privilege.

This is a phenomenal, miraculous book. I found it challenging and really frightening at parts due to the surgical-level details Greenwell uses to describe pain in the body. In many ways, this novel is unbelievable in what it is able to convey about the human condition, fear, the unknown. Parts of this novel read like any of the best horror/thriller novels, with panic-attack inducing imagery. Yet, it's also so tender. The two main characters here are an amazing representation of queer love and togetherness. As cliché as it may sound, Greenwell is able to use this single-room, "chamber play"-esque setting to represent what it means to be human, with all its shades of fear and joy. There's clearly some autofiction here, which makes the novel all the more courageous and moving. This is a stunner. With more time passing, this might move up to a 5-star read for me.

This novel doesn't release until Sept 3rd. I highly recommend writing it down in your calendar and buying it ASAP. A one-of-a-kind reading experience, this novel is a miracle!!

Like any good poet, Garth Greenwell has an instinct for an incisive title. In a way, no other could be more fitting for this novel than 'Small Rain': relatively slim in length (300 or so pages), with a condensed, compressed timespan and setting (a few weeks, spent in a handful of cramped hospital rooms), this is a "small" story - of one man, of an isolated, singular health crisis, of one moment in a (hopefully) long life. And yet, at the same time, to read it feels like being caught in a sudden shower: heavy and slippery and streaming, the kind of "rain" that makes you wonder if it will ever be possible to feel dry again.

Told in a relentless outpouring of lyrical, nimble sentences, Greenwell captures the sharp shock of a life-changing diagnosis (the unnamed narrator, finally admitting himself into the ER after five days of excruciating pain, is told his aorta has torn; statistically, he should be dead already), then explores its slower, crueller aftereffects: the prospect of a life of ill health, of perpetual pill-popping; the strain and stresses placed on partners and family members; the new sense of seeing and being in the world, one which seems so much less stable than before. Greenwell's prose is poetic perfection, his characterisation rich and true - foregrounded by the pandemic, it manages to articulate a collectively familiar period of time in a way which felt refreshing and original.

Thank you so much to Farrar, Straus and Giroux and NetGalley for this e-ARC!

You have no idea the scream that came out of my mouth when I was graciously given the ARC to read. I love Garth and thought his previous books were incredible.

BUT when I started reading this one I thought, oh no, I might not be into this one. First, it mostly takes place in a hospital, which I thought could get a little stale after a few hundred pages. Second, it takes place during COVID, which for me it’s still a serious thing, but I’m not ready to relive it as it’s obviously still fresh.

This book however drew me the F**k in. Garth’s prose are so so good. I am incredibly envious of his writing ability and how he is able to take a topic and transform it into a glimpse into our broken medical system in the US but also a love story and ode to his partner L. Such a relatable story and lovely book all together. Please never ever stop writing Garth! Can’t wait to buy a copy of Small Rain on September 3rd so I can read and annotate the crap out of it. 4.5/5

I just LOVE Garth Greenwell! He is an expert when in it comes to turning human consciousness into language, and in "Small Rain", he ponders the experience of suddenly becoming life-threateningly ill and being stuck in a hospital. The unnamed Kentucky-born narrator and protagonist is a writer who lives in Iowa City with his partner, a Spanish poet and professor named L (and you guessed it: It's an alter ego of Greenwell himself, L representing his partner Luis Muñoz). After feeling debilitating pain for days, L finally convinces him to seek medical help - and as it turns out, he suffers from infrarenal aortic dissection, a rare and dangerous occurrence: A tear in the main artery of the body. While doctors with various specialties spend weeks attempting to find the cause and containing the disease, our narrator feels helpless and scared, with all kinds of thoughts racing through his head. This experience of being separated from life is heightened by the fact that Covid is raging and the only person allowed to visit the narrator is L (who, naturally, is also terrified).

In a way, Greenwell gives us a chamber play, with a protagonist confined to a room he only leaves to undergo scans etc., and frequently even confined to his bed. Doctors and nurses come and go, some of them building caring, temporary relationships with their patient, but L is the only person connecting him to what he knows as normalcy, and his mind is haunted by the things that have constituted his life until now: We learn about his dysfunctional family and his love for his half-sister G, former mental and physical ailments, how he got from being a voice major to studying in Iowa where he met L, how they literally build a home together, stabilizing structures and weathering storms, but he also ponders the political situation in America as well as music and poetry.

One of the texts he analyzes is Westron Wynde, the lyrics to a 16th century song that contains the lines "Westron wynde when wyll thow blow / the smalle rayne downe can Rayne" - so that's where the novel's title stems from, a poem the narrator sees as "an object of contemplation, of devotion even, inexhaustible", tricky but "more beautiful for it, for the difficulty". And that of course also goes for its sibling, this novel: It's puzzling and full of cracks, and the cracks are where Greenwell traditionally seeks meaning (do yourself a big favor and read Cleanness and What Belongs to You). Also, the book is a devotion to the mess we call life, and especially to L, who appears not as an idea or a metaphor, but as a three-dimensional, complex person.

What a wonderful, multi-faceted, deep text. Did I mention that I love Garth Greenwell?

Beautifully written – thank you for the opportunity to preview this book. Huge Garth Greenwell fan.

Best,
Daniel Kessel
Social Media & Editorial Program Manager, Goodreads

the amount of blessings i felt to receive this arc from netgalley ….. many ! blessings !

this book challenged me: dialogue? unstructured. scenes? they’re going to be going back and forth in time? main characters names? just initials. covid? fully raging! fear and health and sickness? high!!!

but despite it all, garth gets me every time with his sentence structure and how much his characters are holding onto life despite wanting so desperately to slip away from it all.

this was hard, and i’m glad to have done it.

A beautiful and slow-moving examination of life interrupted and refocused by pain. Some very good hospital writing—a Covid novel, but also a novel about cohabitation, the medical industry, home ownership, living in the middle of America, being a poet. The novel includes a few essayistic close-readings of choral music and poetry, which I found lovely.