The Swimmer: The Wild Life of Roger Deakin by Patrick Barkham review – straight in at the deep end | Autobiography and memoir
Not long after my first novel was published, I was invited to a writers’ symposium at UEA in Norwich. The campus is just outside the town and overlooks a lake they call the Broad, where I spent much of my time. I swam under the spell of two books: Charles Sprawson’s Haunts of the Black Masseur and Roger Deakin’s Waterlog, each of which made swimming feel like an expression of the liberated self, a declaration of existential intent. During those strange days in Norfolk, I also stumbled into the university library, where I…