Supernatural Literary Fiction · Literary fiction

Everett Lowry

Everett Lowry writes literary fiction about the small towns of coastal Maine, and about the particular arithmetic of staying. Sons who take over a father's boat. Widows who keep a Tuesday appointment for forty years past any obvious reason to. The people who inherit not just a house or a business but the specific silence that came with it, and spend a lifetime deciding what to do about that inheritance. His novels move between a formative past and the ordinary present it never stopped shaping, following families who have gotten expert at not asking each other the one question that actually matters, until, eventually, someone does.

The books

My books

Cover of Jacob

Supernatural Literary Fiction

Jacob

A Novel of a Boy, a Nurse, and a Gift

The Boy in the Plastic Bubble meets The Green Mile: a pediatric nurse finally gets to take home the boy who spent four years sealed in isolation, never seeing that every life his warm hands quietly save costs him a piece of his own.

After four years behind vinyl, seven-year-old Jacob dies for forty-seven seconds and comes back with warm hands, and the dead beetle, the dead plant and the screaming boy down the hall all get better after he touches them.

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His nurse Emily charts every pound he loses and calls it normal, right up to the rainy afternoon she finally takes him home and he kneels in the hospital parking lot to save the man she just married.

Cover of The Ways We Keep Water

Literary fiction

The Ways We Keep Water

A Novel of a Maine Fishing Family

Olive Kitteridge meets The Perfect Storm: for forty-two years a Maine lobsterman has sold bait every Tuesday to the widow of the partner he lost overboard, and the summer his hands start to shake, his daughter finds the dead man’s logbook and the four seconds he never told anyone about.

Every Tuesday for forty-two years, Del Hawes has weighed out half a bag of herring for Ruth Cutler, whose husband went over the stern of Del’s boat, and the whole harbor calls it kindness.

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Then his daughter comes home for the summer, finds Owen’s logbook in a tote in the shed, and starts pulling at the one story Del has never told straight: the four seconds when his hand went to the throttle instead of the ring buoy.

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