Twelve-year-old Freya is visiting her distracted mother in Cornwall when she encounters 14-year-old twins. "The only thing better than being aware of a secret," they advise her, "comes from possessing one of your own." In the weeks that follow, they sexually assault her, then inter her while living, blend of nervousness and annoyance passing across their faces as they ultimately free her from her makeshift coffin.
This may have functioned as the shocking centrepiece of a novel, but it's merely a single of many awful events in The Elements, which assembles four novellas – released distinctly between 2023 and 2025 – in which characters navigate historical pain and try to find peace in the present moment.
The book's issuance has been clouded by the presence of Earth, the subsequent novella, on the preliminary list for a significant LGBTQ+ writing prize. In August, nearly all other candidates pulled out in protest at the author's controversial views – and this year's prize has now been called off.
Discussion of trans rights is absent from The Elements, although the author addresses plenty of significant issues. Homophobia, the influence of mainstream and online outlets, parental neglect and abuse are all examined.
Suffering is accumulated upon suffering as wounded survivors seem fated to encounter each other repeatedly for all time
Links abound. We initially encounter Evan as a boy trying to flee the island of Water. His trial's panel contains the Freya who returns in Fire. Aaron, the father from Air, partners with Freya and has a child with Willow's daughter. Supporting characters from one narrative return in houses, bars or legal settings in another.
These plot threads may sound complicated, but the author understands how to drive a narrative – his prior acclaimed Holocaust drama has sold numerous units, and he has been rendered into dozens languages. His straightforward prose bristles with suspenseful hooks: "ultimately, a doctor in the burns unit should know better than to toy with fire"; "the first thing I do when I come to the island is modify my name".
Characters are portrayed in brief, powerful lines: the empathetic Nigerian priest, the disturbed pub landlord, the daughter at war with her mother. Some scenes echo with tragic power or insightful humour: a boy is struck by his father after having an accident at a football match; a biased island mother and her Dublin-raised neighbour exchange insults over cups of weak tea.
The author's talent of bringing you fully into each narrative gives the return of a character or plot strand from an earlier story a real frisson, for the first few times at least. Yet the aggregate effect of it all is desensitizing, and at times practically comic: suffering is accumulated upon pain, coincidence on accident in a grim farce in which wounded survivors seem destined to meet each other repeatedly for all time.
If this sounds not exactly life and more like uncertainty, that is part of the author's message. These wounded people are oppressed by the crimes they have suffered, caught in cycles of thought and behavior that agitate and plunge and may in turn damage others. The author has talked about the impact of his individual experiences of mistreatment and he depicts with understanding the way his cast traverse this dangerous landscape, reaching out for solutions – isolation, frigid water immersion, reconciliation or invigorating honesty – that might provide clarity.
The book's "fundamental" concept isn't terribly informative, while the quick pace means the discussion of social issues or digital platforms is mainly superficial. But while The Elements is a defective work, it's also a completely engaging, trauma-oriented saga: a appreciated riposte to the typical obsession on investigators and criminals. The author demonstrates how trauma can run through lives and generations, and how years and care can quieten its echoes.
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