Young Freya is visiting her distracted mother in Cornwall when she meets 14-year-old twins. "The only thing better than knowing a secret," they advise her, "comes from possessing one of your own." In the days that ensue, they will rape her, then entomb her breathing, blend of anxiety and annoyance darting across their faces as they finally release her from her makeshift coffin.
This might have stood as the disturbing focal point of a novel, but it's merely a single of multiple awful events in The Elements, which collects four short novels β released distinctly between 2023 and 2025 β in which characters confront previous suffering and try to find peace in the current moment.
The book's release has been overshadowed by the presence of Earth, the second novella, on the candidate list for a significant LGBTQ+ writing prize. In August, nearly all other nominees dropped out in dissent at the author's controversial views β and this year's prize has now been terminated.
Conversation of LGBTQ+ matters is missing from The Elements, although the author addresses plenty of significant issues. Anti-gay prejudice, the impact of mainstream and online outlets, parental neglect and assault are all investigated.
Trauma is layered with trauma as damaged survivors seem fated to meet each other again and again for eternity
Connections multiply. We originally see Evan as a boy trying to leave the island of Water. His trial's group contains the Freya who returns in Fire. Aaron, the father from Air, partners with Freya and has a child with Willow's daughter. Minor characters from one story return in houses, taverns or courtrooms in another.
These narrative elements may sound complicated, but the author understands how to power a narrative β his earlier successful Holocaust drama has sold many copies, and he has been converted into many languages. His straightforward prose sparkles with gripping hooks: "ultimately, a doctor in the burns unit should know better than to play with fire"; "the initial action I do when I arrive on the island is alter my name".
Characters are sketched in concise, impactful lines: the compassionate Nigerian priest, the troubled pub landlord, the daughter at conflict with her mother. Some scenes resonate with tragic power or insightful humour: a boy is hit by his father after wetting himself at a football match; a prejudiced island mother and her Dublin-raised neighbour trade barbs over cups of watery tea.
The author's knack of bringing you wholeheartedly into each narrative gives the comeback of a character or plot strand from an previous story a authentic excitement, for the first few times at least. Yet the collective effect of it all is numbing, and at times almost comic: suffering is layered with suffering, chance on accident in a dark farce in which wounded survivors seem doomed to encounter each other repeatedly for all time.
If this sounds less like life and closer to uncertainty, that is element of the author's point. These wounded people are weighed down by the crimes they have endured, caught in routines of thought and behavior that stir and spiral and may in turn damage others. The author has talked about the effect of his own experiences of abuse and he describes with understanding the way his ensemble negotiate this dangerous landscape, extending for remedies β seclusion, icy sea dips, forgiveness or invigorating honesty β that might let light in.
The book's "fundamental" framing isn't particularly instructive, while the brisk pace means the discussion of sexual politics or digital platforms is mostly shallow. But while The Elements is a flawed work, it's also a entirely accessible, survivor-centered saga: a appreciated riposte to the typical fixation on authorities and perpetrators. The author demonstrates how trauma can affect lives and generations, and how time and compassion can quieten its aftereffects.