Young Freya spends time with her distracted mother in Cornwall when she comes across teenage twins. "Nothing better than being aware of a secret," they advise her, "comes from possessing one of your own." In the days that ensue, they violate her, then entomb her breathing, blend of unease and irritation passing across their faces as they ultimately liberate her from her improvised coffin.
This may have functioned as the jarring centrepiece of a novel, but it's just one of numerous terrible events in The Elements, which collects four novelettes – released distinctly between 2023 and 2025 – in which characters navigate historical pain and try to discover peace in the current moment.
The book's issuance has been clouded by the addition of Earth, the subsequent novella, on the longlist for a prominent LGBTQ+ writing prize. In August, the majority other nominees dropped out in objection at the author's controversial views – and this year's prize has now been cancelled.
Debate of gender identity issues is missing from The Elements, although the author addresses plenty of major issues. Homophobia, the influence of conventional and digital platforms, parental neglect and assault are all examined.
Pain is piled on pain as wounded survivors seem doomed to encounter each other continuously for forever
Connections proliferate. We initially encounter Evan as a boy trying to escape the island of Water. His trial's group contains the Freya who shows up again in Fire. Aaron, the father from Air, works with Freya and has a child with Willow's daughter. Supporting characters from one account resurface in cottages, pubs or legal settings in another.
These narrative elements may sound tangled, but the author understands how to propel a narrative – his prior successful Holocaust drama has sold many copies, and he has been rendered into numerous languages. His businesslike prose shines with suspenseful hooks: "ultimately, a doctor in the burns unit should know better than to experiment with fire"; "the primary step I do when I reach the island is change my name".
Characters are portrayed in concise, powerful lines: the empathetic Nigerian priest, the disturbed pub landlord, the daughter at war with her mother. Some scenes echo with sad power or perceptive humour: a boy is hit by his father after having an accident at a football match; a biased island mother and her Dublin-raised neighbour swap barbs over cups of weak tea.
The author's knack of carrying you completely into each narrative gives the return of a character or plot strand from an earlier story a real thrill, for the opening times at least. Yet the cumulative effect of it all is numbing, and at times practically comic: suffering is piled on pain, coincidence on coincidence in a dark farce in which hurt survivors seem doomed to encounter each other again and again for forever.
If this sounds less like life and more like uncertainty, that is aspect of the author's message. These damaged people are weighed down by the crimes they have suffered, trapped in cycles of thought and behavior that stir and plunge and may in turn harm others. The author has discussed about the influence of his personal experiences of mistreatment and he depicts with compassion the way his ensemble traverse this risky landscape, reaching out for solutions – isolation, cold ocean swims, reconciliation or refreshing honesty – that might let light in.
The book's "elemental" concept isn't particularly instructive, while the brisk pace means the exploration of social issues or social media is mainly shallow. But while The Elements is a flawed work, it's also a entirely readable, trauma-oriented epic: a valued riposte to the usual fixation on investigators and criminals. The author illustrates how pain can affect lives and generations, and how years and care can quieten its echoes.
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