Seán Hewitt's tender first novel, Open, Heaven, is a queer coming-of-age story that questions the assumed evanescence of teenage infatuation.
In 2022, James Legh, a 30-something librarian separated from his husband, returns to his hometown of Thornmere in the North of England to view a farmhouse for sale. He still thinks about his first love, Luke, whom he met on this farm 20 years ago. James has no intention of buying the property; instead, he has come to try to recapture the past and to commune with those he's lost as he also revisits the local churchyard and pub.
The remainder of the novel unfolds between autumn 2002 and the following summer: a pivotal year for 16-year-old James. His before-school job with a milkman concludes at Hyde's farm. One morning, he meets Hyde's 17-year-old nephew, Luke, who is staying with them while his father is in prison. The boys become friends through farm chores, playing video games, and attending a rugby club dance. But James is uneasy about Luke's form of masculinity: Luke can be rough and takes risks. James knows he mustn't read too much into Luke's casual physical contact with him--he's aware that Luke is interested in his classmate Mia. Yet when Luke proposes a secret camping trip, James lets his romantic fantasies run wild.
The title and epigraph are from William Blake, whose dichotomy of innocence versus experience suits the plot. The old-fashioned canalside village setting--Thornmere is described as "nowhere's junction and no one's destination"--contributes to an aura of timelessness. Indeed, this short, slow-burning work recalls British classics such as L.P. Hartley's The Go-Between (a phrase that appears in the text).
Whether describing teenage emotions or the countryside across the seasons, Hewitt (All Down Darkness Wide) impresses with his lyrical prose. The first-person narrative is redolent of autofiction, alternating between raw and coy. James's struggle with stuttering, and guilt over not being more attentive to his five-year-old brother's seizures, are additional touching elements. It somewhat strains credulity that, two decades later, James still fixates on a would-be teen romance. However, he freely admits the obsession has hindered him: "It was that which had undone... my life with my husband--it was always Luke's promise... of a different life."
This elegiac novel, ideal for readers of Andrés N. Ordorica's How We Named the Stars, posits that first love--even if unrequited--persists. --Rebecca Foster, freelance reviewer, proofreader and blogger at Bookish Beck
Shelf Talker: Seán Hewitt's lyrical, elegiac novel tenderly unfolds a queer coming-of-age and makes a case for the primacy of first love--even if unrequited, even if lost.