Swimming Studies | Leanne Shapton

Swimming Studies

by Leanne Shapton

with an introduction by Rita Bullwinkel

£13.99

Published August 2025
ISBN: 9781917092272
Format: Paperback

Also available as an eBook:
9781917092265

A brilliantly original, meditative memoir, a ‘fusion of cool, clear-eyed prose and watercolours, photographs and portraits’ (Time Out New York), that explores the world of swimming.

Intimate with chlorinated space; weightless yet limited; closed off to taste, sound, and most sight: this is a swimmer’s state. When ten-year-old Leanne Shapton joins a swim team, she finds an affinity for its rhythms – and spends years training, making it to the Olympic trials twice.

Swimming Studies reflects on her time immersed in a world of rigour and determination, routine and competition. Vivid details of a life spent largely underwater emerge: adolescence in suburban Canada, dawn risings for morning practice, bus rides with teammates, a growing collection of swimsuits, dips in lakes and oceans. When she trades athletic pursuits for artistic ones, the metrics of moving through water endure.

In elegant, spare writing, Shapton renders swimming as a mode of experiencing time, movement, and perspective, capable of shaping our lives in every environment. The result is captivating and profound: a modern classic of sport writing and memoir from a singular talent.

‘If there is a more beautifully observed examination of weightlessness, silence, rigor, and delight of what it means to swim, I’ve never read it.’ David Rakoff

‘Expresses what it’s like to be haunted by the person one used to be, and the search for how that person exists in the present.  Leanne Shapton writes with such curiosity, ruefulness, intelligence, and grace.’ Sheila Heti

‘Swimming Studies sets out, through a fusion of words and pictures, to capture a bittersweet part of the writer’s past as completely as a scent trapped in a bottle.  The book is beautiful as both a story and an object.’ John Jeremiah Sullivan

‘Her honed attention to detail gives the reader the sensation of watching a meticulous mind watching itself, down to the hundredth of a second.’ New Yorker