... exquisite ... it’s atmosphere, language, and a deep sense of place, as much as any answers to these questions, that keep you turning pages. With some chapters running only one or two sentences, the pacing is brisk. But the writing is lyrical, fresh, and poetic. I was reminded sometimes of Dylan Thomas ... a gorgeous coming-of-age novel.

Andrews unspools Lucy’s coming-of-age story in short numbered fragments, prose poems that at first seem random and out of order, but build in a logical sequence all their own. The technique isn’t always successful and the flurry of pop cultural name checks can read like a confounding shorthand — especially the overwhelming array of bands and singers. But more often Andrews’s writing is transportingly voluptuous, conjuring tastes and smells and sounds like her literary godmother, Edna O’Brien ... It’s her mission, [Andrews] has said, to tell the stories of working-class women. That’s a fine undertaking, but what makes her novel sing is its universal themes: how a young woman tries to make sense of her world, and how she grows up.

It’s a standard coming-of-age narrative, but also features something very rare in literary fiction: a working-class heroine, written by a young working-class author ... Saltwater is billed as 'for fans of Sally Rooney and Olivia Laing', but Andrews has little in common with either. You can draw a much stronger line to Sara Baume ... The writing is disarmingly honest – sometimes, when it comes to Lucy’s relationship with her mother, uncomfortably so This is a courageous book dealing frankly with youth, puberty, mother-daughter relationships, class, disability and alcoholism. There are difficult truths, but no wallowing ... There is little dialogue, but if the interiority can occasionally feel wearing, it is worth it for its refreshing perspective. Lucy feels the acute tension and anxiety that arises between leaving your community and staying. I found parts of this novel intensely moving – I wish I had read it when I was 19.

Jessica Andrews’ debut novel shimmers with promise: it’s one of those books where, from the first pages, you’re grabbed by a distinctive new voice ... Andrews has a real talent for description, which elevates this autobiographical work from slightly unearned naval-gazing memoir – she is in her mid-twenties – to something more memorably textured ... But it can also be too much, the vivid spray-painting of tiny detail ultimately obscuring any bigger picture. As Andrews churns through the years, glittering descriptions mount up but meaning or narrative drive doesn’t ... too often Saltwater is just about Lucy’s inner anxieties, and the changing external trends of the world she’s growing up in. This can leave the novel seeming, at times, more a pretty sketch of ennui in a vintage frock than anything very profound ... Much of Andrews’ imagery is persuasive. It’s often raw, unsettling ... On a craft level, it feels like a wee bit of cheat, mind – tight, clever vignettes drawn from your own life are easier to hone and arrange than conventional narratives are to sustain. But perhaps I am not being generous, given this is a debut – and given that each vignette is so sharply cut, with such high shine. Saltwater shimmers with promise, and it will certainly be worth watching what Andrews does next.

Jessica Andrews’ debut novel Saltwater is, much like its title, fluid, crisp and bracing. Quietly experimental in form – short numbered snippets that recall the writing of Maggie Nelson and Jennie Offill – the book explores familial bonds, class identity, the longing for home and the simultaneous desire to escape it ... What emerges is a beautifully structured coming-of-age tale that shows a family’s enduring love for each other through difficult years of alcoholism and loss ... Through Andrews’ lyrical style, her character’s interiority is laid bare ... Lucy is both self-reflective and outward looking in her love of nature, a creative, deep-thinking protagonist not unlike those of Sara Baume or Lisa Owens. The poet and novelist Angela Readman’s recent debut Something Like Breathing also comes to mind. But Saltwater is uniquely its own: a love note to a mother, a bildungsroman, a young woman on the cusp of new adventures and a more considered way of living.

The moments when we encounter Lucy’s alcoholic father are affecting, but as with all the figures who aren’t Lucy, the author seems uninterested in developing his character. It is hard to say whether Andrews was reluctant to betray her loved ones or, like Lucy, suffers from such a 'surplus of self' that no one else gets a look in. Elsewhere the writing is winsome...and over-reliant on brand names to connote working-class identity: Polo Fruits, Greggs, Kwik Save, etc. The same goes for her political insights, which are very on the nose ... I wanted to love this book ... it has drawn those inevitable comparisons to Rooney. But everyone in publishing wants a new Rooney: a poor Rooney, a black Rooney, a male Rooney, a Wayne Rooney would probably do. Someone, anyone, who can define what it’s like to be young, ardent and hungry — and if they’re not from middle-class north London, so much the better. To be young is to be governed by appetites you can’t define, and to grope towards truths that you struggle to articulate. But Sally Rooney’s ability to capture this exquisite turmoil and create stories of universal significance makes her an exception. Saltwater is raw, intimate and authentic but lacking in intrigue or critical distance. It’s a shame, because somewhere in here is a story about disadvantage that deserves to be heard. Andrews obviously has talent; it just needs nurturing more carefully. A novel should be more than a bunch of feels.

Andrews writes beautiful, unusual descriptions, and short chapters give the story a poetic sensibility. Her intertwining of time periods and mother-daughter relationships through generations is so well done that it is a real loss when she abandons it for a more straightforward telling. Andrews’ debut declares her one to watch.

The natural untethering that happens between mothers and daughters is remarkably rendered—the heartsickness given gravitas equal to romantic relationships. Andrews is undoubtedly a talented writer, but this book seems more concerned with sentence-level beauty than narrative. The lovely minutiae of the vignettes sometimes overshadow or crowd out the book’s larger themes. Despite this, Andrews’ writing explores themes like memory, home, womanhood, and mother-daughter relationships with shattering clarity ... A beautifully written experimental novel that lacks narrative momentum.

Much of Andrews’s novel concerns Lucy finding herself as a teenager and college student, but this part of the story isn’t as engrossing as Lucy contemplating her family ties, the highlight of the book ... Her passages about dating and trying to fit in pale in comparison. Still, this coming-of-age story will appeal to readers who appreciate strong mother-daughter relationships.