Booker Prize longlisted.

Anne Michaels is a Canadian poet and novelist whose debut “Fugitive Pieces” won the Orange (now Women’s) Prize in only its second year (1997).

At the time of her second novel – The Winter Vault – she explained in a Guardian interview that while her poetry writing gace her the discipline of not wasting a single word, she started writing novels because "I was pushing the form as far as I could in the longer pieces, trying to make connections on a larger scale. I stretched the poetry as far as it would go … Fiction is expansive: it offers a way of layering things; of having images and gestures that connect between page 100 and page 303. It gives you the chance to bring the reader in slowly, via as many strands as you can”

This is her third novel and the first I have read – and I have to say that, even before reading this interview, my view reading it was that, both in terms of writing style and the impression I came away with, this had very much the experience of reading a linked poetry collection.

Ostensibly a series of vignettes – largely linked by four female generations of a family – and moving in time from 1910 to 2025 and in location from France to Suffolk to Estonia – it is thematically I think drawn together by two linked ideas (one timely but perhaps conventional, the other more unusual and I have to say slightly jarring for me initially).

We open in 1917 – John (the close point of view character in this section) lies wounded on a WWI battlefield in France facing another younger soldier. As John realises he is going to survive we realise the other soldier is dead, and we are also with John as memories from his life return, particularly the way in which he met his wife Helen.

Also though the key themes of the book emerge almost immediately:

Firstly (conventionally) war and its aftermath and how major world events play out in individual lives

Secondly (less conventionally and in my words) the interplay of science and mystery – the way in which both were going through a major point of development in the first decades of the twentieth century (science due to the discoveries of atomic science, radiation, relativity and so on; mystery due to the sudden uptake in spiritualism due to the sheer number of deaths of loved husbands and sons).

But all written in poetic language

The second section starts off again in conventional territory – John and Helena are living in North Yorkshire in 1920, John running a photographer’s studio remembering also the death of his mother in a Zeppelin raid and also remembering how Helena tried to persuade him to elope with her rather than enlisting. When however John takes a photo of a young man he is shocked to see an apparent image of another figure on the plate, even more so when the man reveals it is his mother - and that leads back in particular to the second theme above, in a nuanced and moving way.

From there the book becomes more fragmentary:

We meet Anna – John and Helen’s daughter – who travels over the world nursing in war zones; her hatmaker husband Peter and their daughter Mara who, despite the challenges on her own childhood from her mother’s frequent humanitarian absences, becomes herself a war-zone nurse and marries Alan, a war journalist, the two meeting after a bombing raid.

But we also see Marie Curie first by observation (by a female British mathematician writing to her now dead husband) including a vignette of a real life incident when with Pierre and a group of other scientists they attempt to measure and investigate what is happening a medium summons spirits; later in 1912 in the aftermath of the controversy over her second Nobel Prize when she flees to England to take refuge with her friend and fellow-widow Hertha Ayrton and both meditate on life and death (while also meeting the mathematician’s husband).

And two more enigmatic chapters are I believe based on the real life Estonian composer Arvo Pärt (fictionalised as Paavo) and the turn of the 20th Century French documentary photographer Eugène Atget (unnamed in the book).

And we finish with (I think) Mara’s daughter Anna observed by Aimo (a character we met in a previous chapter as a child) in what seems to be a new Baltic War in the very near future.

Overall this is a beautifully written book - one which rewards a re-read and which shows the truth of something John once wrote down

"The elusiveness of the form is the form"

Held is a standout on this year’s Booker long-list, showcases the poetic brilliance of its author, a former poet whose lyrical style enhances the narrative. The novel, structured like a flowing river, navigates through a series of vignettes spanning from 1908 to 2025, exploring themes of love, loss, and memory against a backdrop of historical and personal upheavals.

Beginning on a World War I battlefield, the narrative delves into the persistence of love and its transcendence beyond death. Michaels’ prose is rich and evocative, though the book’s non-linear structure and fragmented style may challenge readers seeking a more traditional narrative.

The audiobook, which is narrated by the author adds a personal touch, though the depth of the prose is often best appreciated in print. It was so worthy I used an Audible credit.

Some of the book flows very well whereas some appears to be rushed and trying to tie it all together. This is a first for me by the author and one I enjoyed and I would read more of their work. The book cover is eye-catching and appealing and would spark my interest if in a bookshop. Thank you to the author, publisher and Netgalley for this ARC.

3.5/5.

Longlisted for the 2024 Booker Prize

I have never read Anne Michaels before, and this was a revelation, profoundly thought provoking, pure poetry, as it intertwines the human, the intensely personal and intimate, and memory, with the bigger stage, the macro level, turbulence in the world, events, people, epic in its coverage of more than a century. The language is exquisite, but this is a work, despite its short length, that demands patience, and like me, I can imagine readers needing to return, to reread, to see and endeavour to understand more. The narrative is non-linear, vignettes, seemingly chaotic, spanning generations of a family, exploring fundamental themes and issues, of life and beyond, the soul, love, loss, grief, faith, and science.

Spanning 4 generations, in 1917 we have a soldier, John, in battlefield France, reflecting, the serendipity of his meeting Helena, but was there more to it? He survives to return to Yorkshire, not the same man, working as a photographer, wondering is that a ghost that he sees? If so, who is it? Eloquent, emotionally affecting, we move through time, devastation, countries, different places, encountering lovers, spiritualism, the tragedies, challenges, relationships, and the mysteries of life, to what do we give credence? Marie Curie, the Nobel prize winner escapes to England in this remarkable blend of fact and fiction.

This definitely deserves to be on the Booker longlist, which I hope brings it to the wider audience that it clearly deserves. A philosophical, disquieting, heartbreaking, yet ultimately hopeful treasure of a read that I highly recommend, this is not a book that you will forget in a hurry, and which you are likely to revisit again and again. Many thanks to the publisher for an ARC.

'Held' is a beautifully written novel which explores love, longing and loss. The structure of the novel is quite fragmented and we meet a variety of characters at different moments across the course of more than a century. The novel begins with John, a soldier in WW1 who traces various memories as he lies wounded in France. We meet John again in 1920 in Yorkshire where he is now living with his wife, Helena, as he opens a photography studio but is still haunted by ghosts from the past. We then follow John and Helena's family through the twentieth century as well as looping back to before the war.

Every sentence Anne Michaels writes is exquisitely crafted, and contain some stunningly profound observations. I was particularly drawn to Alan, a war correspondent, who would "take his tipper lorry of language and empty the horror in plain view, so no one could claim they had not known", and his partner Mara, a field hospital nurse who becomes infuriated at "the obscenity of shops, aisles of abundance like temple offerings for the gods; at her colleagues' impassioned debates about the merits of certain restaurants as if they were moral questions" and struggles to adjust to "the absence of bombardment." There many other similarly powerful moments throughout this novel.

At times it is more difficult to trace the connections between characters and situations, especially in the second half of the novel, as so much is left unsaid, but this is undoubtedly a novel which will reward multiple attentive re-readings. Many thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for sending me an ARC to review.

I really wanted to love this one and initially I did. The writing was gorgeous, I can’t deny that. However, I really struggled with the constant time jumps. It was hard to feel connected to John when I couldn’t figure out what timeline we were in, or what was real or a dream. There was mystery and intrigue and passion clearly present in the book, but the method of delivery felt confusing and jarring.

I read the first part of this book the wrong way: 5 minutes here, 10 minutes there. But it demands quiet, patience, attention and room for contemplation. Once I started giving that, it worked - most of the time.

It is a contemplative, poetic work with loosely connected stories from the early 20th century to the present day about all those feelings that are under the surface. Desire especially, in all its forms, but also loss and grief, longing and memories.

One has to be in the mood and willing to go along. Sometimes I was and it was beautiful, sometimes I wasn't and got annoyed.

3,5

'Who can say what happens when we are remembered?'

In the late 90s Fugitive Pieces astounded readers with its powerful tales of Jakob and Ben and deservedly gained international acclaim.

Held by Anne Michaels is another book that links lives ; this time across decades, continents, wars, trauma, families and love - from the early 20th century up to 2025.

Poetic, haunting, incredibly-thought provoking and at times needing multiple reads to truly determine what is being said.

Each individual story challenges our thoughts on the concept of being- a metaphysical trail emerges -the supernatural, the sense of the soul and awareness of people absent and no longer alive. The prose is beautiful - many sentences feel they need deeper discussion with friends and family

'The sense of a presence grew almost overpowering. Then, suddenly, the place was destitute. The presence was gone, though nothing outward had changed'
" I think we remember someone by living. I think that's the way to remember.'

This is a rewarding read and will trigger personal reflection - a meditation in being. This is by no means an easy read- it's non-linear structure needs focus but the depth of character created in limited prose is powerful.

Booker long-listed and deservedly so.

Challenging, hypnotic and captivating.

'There is only one language for each pair of souls. Others eavesdrop but do not understand.'

<I><blockquote>That he is safe in her arms, loved by her forever, nothing can end this love she holds him in, love without end.</I></blockquote>

This is gorgeously elusive and yet manifest as, in prose with an internal beat and rhythm, Michaels conjures up a spiritual vision of life that is bound by love without a trace of sentimentality.

Moving through time and space from an injured soldier in a WW1 battlefield to Finland in 2025, this creates a kind of chain of love as characters live through grief, loss, memories and desire.

The image at the heart of this piece is that of being held in care, whether by human love, a kind of spiritual universe or the material memories of ghosts of parents and lovers.

This feels like a very careful piece that has probably been worked on extensively to pare back the extraneous and cut to the core of Michaels' vision. It is consoling and nurturing in tone, spiritual without the limitations of any doctrinal religion.

It's not a book to read when distracted, like while commuting: this invites - and deserves - concentration and quiet, time to embed yourself within the almost hypnotic, meditative rhythm of the prose.

The thing that didn't work for me is the fracturing of the bond between reader and characters: I felt involved with John and Helena in the first two sections and that personal absorption seems to be deliberately diluted to the spiritual aesthetics of the text. I can understand that but it did leave me floundering a bit as I never came to care so much again.

Nevertheless, a quiet book whose profundity comes from the peace it creates.