SEA TIME

Welsh author Aston presents a seafaring memoir that mixes technical information, personal anecdotes, and often poetic reflections.

Determined not to be killed by coal-dust-related respiratory diseases like his Welsh father and grandfather, the young author went to sea at 14 in 1947. Now retired, this able seaman (not just a description, but also a rank) traveled the world and has stuffed his memoir with a history of travel by sea—from sailing ships to steamships—as well as a host of nautical terms, descriptions of the rigorous tests necessary for advancement, and accounts of unflattering traditional perceptions about seafarers (said to go to sea because “disreputable habits have brought them into disrepute at home”). He also highlights the cruelty and exploitation he has witnessed, and often chilling personal stories. Readers hear of how the Titanic tragedy was caused by the owners’ greed—and, indeed, ships’ owners and captains generally do not come off well; seamen led very hard lives, even after they eventually won concessions. It’s only near the book’s halfway mark that more detailed anecdotes—some comic, some tragic—come to light and readers get a sense of the author’s life and passions, and it almost feels as if a different writer has taken over. As a result, there’s an unevenness to the book’s structure, and it doesn’t help that Aston’s punctuation is idiosyncratic to the point of distraction. A tension is also evident between the idyll (“fanciful ideas of life at sea, and dreams of hula girls”) that the reader has been primed to expect and the reality that Aston is obliged to report: dire poverty, danger, and intrigue, as in the chilling sentence: “Saigon: Cute girls, in flowing white silk ‘ao-dai,’riding motor scooters, and throwing bombs into bars full of GIs.” Special acknowledgment is made of Aston’s old friend and mate Alfred “Shawn” O’Shaugnessy, whose poems grace these pages, and there are also many illustrations, mostly vintage photographs.

A fact-filled account of a life at sea, hampered by awkward execution.