Twelve-year-old Freya is visiting her distracted mother in Cornwall when she meets teenage twins. "The only thing better than knowing a secret," they inform her, "comes from possessing one of your own." In the time that ensue, they sexually assault her, then entomb her breathing, combination of nervousness and annoyance flitting across their faces as they eventually liberate her from her improvised coffin.
This may have functioned as the jarring centrepiece of a novel, but it's merely a single of many terrible events in The Elements, which assembles four novellas – released distinctly between 2023 and 2025 – in which characters confront past trauma and try to discover peace in the present moment.
The book's release has been clouded by the presence of Earth, the second novella, on the preliminary list for a notable LGBTQ+ writing prize. In August, most other contenders withdrew in protest at the author's gender-critical views – and this year's prize has now been called off.
Discussion of LGBTQ+ matters is absent from The Elements, although the author explores plenty of major issues. Homophobia, the impact of conventional and digital platforms, family disregard and assault are all examined.
Pain is layered with suffering as damaged survivors seem destined to meet each other continuously for forever
Links proliferate. We initially encounter Evan as a boy trying to leave the island of Water. His trial's jury contains the Freya who reappears in Fire. Aaron, the father from Air, works with Freya and has a child with Willow's daughter. Secondary characters from one narrative return in houses, pubs or judicial venues in another.
These narrative elements may sound tangled, but the author understands how to power a narrative – his prior popular Holocaust drama has sold many copies, and he has been converted into many languages. His direct prose bristles with suspenseful hooks: "after all, a doctor in the burns unit should understand more than to play with fire"; "the first thing I do when I reach the island is modify my name".
Characters are drawn in brief, impactful lines: the empathetic Nigerian priest, the troubled pub landlord, the daughter at war with her mother. Some scenes ring with melancholy power or insightful humour: a boy is punched by his father after having an accident at a football match; a prejudiced island mother and her Dublin-raised neighbour trade jabs over cups of watery tea.
The author's ability of carrying you fully into each narrative gives the reappearance of a character or plot strand from an prior story a real excitement, for the first few times at least. Yet the collective effect of it all is desensitizing, and at times almost comic: suffering is layered with suffering, coincidence on coincidence in a grim farce in which hurt survivors seem destined to meet each other continuously for forever.
If this sounds different from life and more like uncertainty, that is part of the author's thesis. These wounded people are burdened by the crimes they have experienced, trapped in routines of thought and behavior that stir and descend and may in turn harm others. The author has spoken about the influence of his individual experiences of mistreatment and he describes with sympathy the way his cast navigate this dangerous landscape, extending for remedies – solitude, cold ocean swims, forgiveness or invigorating honesty – that might let light in.
The book's "elemental" concept isn't particularly informative, while the brisk pace means the discussion of sexual politics or digital platforms is mostly shallow. But while The Elements is a imperfect work, it's also a completely readable, trauma-oriented saga: a welcome rebuttal to the common preoccupation on investigators and perpetrators. The author illustrates how trauma can permeate lives and generations, and how years and compassion can silence its echoes.
A passionate writer and lifestyle enthusiast with a background in digital media, sharing practical advice and personal experiences.