Young Freya spends time with her preoccupied mother in Cornwall when she comes across 14-year-old twins. "Nothing better than being aware of a secret," they inform her, "comes from possessing one of your own." In the weeks that ensue, they sexually assault her, then entomb her breathing, combination of unease and irritation passing across their faces as they ultimately free her from her improvised coffin.
This might have stood as the disturbing main event of a novel, but it's only one of numerous awful events in The Elements, which assembles four novelettes – published separately between 2023 and 2025 – in which characters negotiate past trauma and try to find peace in the current moment.
The book's publication has been overshadowed by the presence of Earth, the second novella, on the preliminary list for a notable LGBTQ+ writing prize. In August, the majority other candidates dropped out in protest at the author's debated views – and this year's prize has now been terminated.
Discussion of trans rights is missing from The Elements, although the author explores plenty of significant issues. Homophobia, the impact of conventional and digital platforms, parental neglect and abuse are all explored.
Trauma is accumulated upon suffering as damaged survivors seem fated to meet each other continuously for forever
Relationships abound. We first meet Evan as a boy trying to flee the island of Water. His trial's jury contains the Freya who shows up again in Fire. Aaron, the father from Air, collaborates with Freya and has a child with Willow's daughter. Secondary characters from one account reappear in cottages, pubs or legal settings in another.
These plot threads may sound complicated, but the author knows how to power a narrative – his earlier popular Holocaust drama has sold many copies, and he has been rendered into numerous languages. His straightforward prose bristles with thriller-ish hooks: "ultimately, a doctor in the burns unit should understand more than to toy with fire"; "the first thing I do when I come to the island is change my name".
Characters are sketched in succinct, powerful lines: the empathetic Nigerian priest, the troubled 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 prejudiced island mother and her Dublin-raised neighbour trade insults over cups of watery tea.
The author's knack of bringing you fully into each narrative gives the comeback of a character or plot strand from an prior story a real thrill, for the initial several times at least. Yet the aggregate effect of it all is numbing, and at times nearly comic: trauma is layered with suffering, chance on accident in a bleak farce in which wounded survivors seem fated to meet each other again and again for all time.
If this sounds less like life and more like uncertainty, that is part of the author's message. These damaged people are burdened by the crimes they have endured, caught in patterns of thought and behavior that agitate and descend and may in turn hurt others. The author has talked about the impact of his individual experiences of mistreatment and he describes with understanding the way his characters navigate this perilous landscape, extending for remedies – seclusion, frigid water immersion, resolution or invigorating honesty – that might provide clarity.
The book's "basic" structure isn't terribly informative, while the brisk pace means the exploration of gender dynamics or digital platforms is mainly shallow. But while The Elements is a defective work, it's also a completely readable, trauma-oriented chronicle: a welcome response to the typical preoccupation on authorities and perpetrators. The author illustrates how suffering can affect lives and generations, and how years and tenderness can quieten its aftereffects.
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