Young Freya spends time with her self-absorbed mother in Cornwall when she encounters 14-year-old twins. "Nothing better than being aware of a secret," they tell her, "is having one of your own." In the weeks that follow, they violate her, then inter her while living, blend of anxiety and irritation flitting across their faces as they finally liberate her from her makeshift coffin.
This may have functioned as the jarring main event of a novel, but it's just one of many awful events in The Elements, which gathers four novelettes – published distinctly between 2023 and 2025 – in which characters confront past trauma and try to achieve peace in the present moment.
The book's release has been clouded by the inclusion of Earth, the second novella, on the preliminary list for a significant LGBTQ+ writing prize. In August, the majority other nominees dropped out in protest at the author's debated views – and this year's prize has now been cancelled.
Debate of LGBTQ+ matters is absent from The Elements, although the author touches on plenty of major issues. Homophobia, the impact of traditional and social media, parental neglect and abuse are all examined.
Pain is layered with suffering as damaged survivors seem destined to meet each other continuously for eternity
Connections multiply. We originally see Evan as a boy trying to flee the island of Water. His trial's panel contains the Freya who reappears in Fire. Aaron, the father from Air, works with Freya and has a child with Willow's daughter. Supporting characters from one narrative reappear in homes, taverns or courtrooms in another.
These narrative elements may sound complex, but the author is skilled at how to power a narrative – his previous popular Holocaust drama has sold millions, and he has been translated into numerous languages. His businesslike prose bristles with gripping hooks: "after all, a doctor in the burns unit should know better than to toy with fire"; "the primary step I do when I come to the island is modify my name".
Characters are portrayed in brief, powerful lines: the empathetic Nigerian priest, the troubled pub landlord, the daughter at struggle with her mother. Some scenes resonate with melancholy power or observational humour: a boy is struck by his father after wetting himself at a football match; a narrow-minded island mother and her Dublin-raised neighbour swap barbs over cups of weak tea.
The author's ability of transporting you fully into each narrative gives the comeback of a character or plot strand from an previous story a genuine thrill, for the initial several times at least. Yet the cumulative effect of it all is numbing, and at times almost comic: trauma is accumulated upon trauma, chance on accident in a dark farce in which wounded survivors seem doomed to encounter each other continuously for eternity.
If this sounds different from life and resembling uncertainty, that is aspect of the author's point. These hurt people are weighed down by the crimes they have experienced, trapped in patterns of thought and behavior that stir and spiral and may in turn damage others. The author has spoken about the influence of his personal experiences of abuse and he depicts with sympathy the way his ensemble navigate this perilous landscape, reaching out for remedies – seclusion, frigid water immersion, forgiveness or refreshing honesty – that might bring illumination.
The book's "elemental" concept isn't extremely instructive, while the quick pace means the exploration of sexual politics or social media is mostly shallow. But while The Elements is a flawed work, it's also a entirely accessible, survivor-centered epic: a appreciated rebuttal to the common preoccupation on detectives and criminals. The author illustrates how trauma can permeate lives and generations, and how years and care can quieten its aftereffects.
An avid hiker and travel writer with a passion for exploring Italy's hidden trails and sharing insights on sustainable tourism.