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Held
A breathtaking and mysterious new novel from the beloved Anne Michaels, internationally bestselling author of Fugitive Pieces and The Winter Vault.
1917. On a battlefield near the River Aisne, John lies in the aftermath of a blast, unable to move or feel his legs. Struggling to focus his thoughts, he is lost to memory—a chance encounter in a pub by a railway, a hot bath with his lover on a winter night, his childhood on a faraway coast—as the snow falls.
1920. John has returned from war to North Yorkshire, near another river—alive, but not whole. Reunited with Helena, an artist, he reopens his photography business and endeavours to keep on living. But the past erupts insistently into the present, as ghosts begin to surface in his ghosts whose messages he cannot understand .
So begins a narrative that spans four generations, moments of connection and consequence igniting and re-igniting as the century unfolds. In luminous moments of desire, comprehension, longing, and transcendence, the sparks fly upward, working their transformations decades later. This resonance through time—not only of actions but also of feelings and perceptions—desire in its many forms—are at the heart of this novel’s profound investigation.
Held is a deeply affecting and intensely beautiful novel, full of unforgettable characters and imagery, wisdom and compassion. It explores the deepest mysteries, and the ways in which desire in its many forms—and perhaps the deepest desire, to find meaning—manifests itself. Held moves through history to light upon Darwin, Sir Ernest Rutherford, North Sea ganseys, early photography, Ella Mary Leather, modern field hospitals…while lovers find each other and snow drifts down across the centuries. From the WW1 battlefield where the novel begins, and its opening lines, Held is alive with "We know life is finite. Why should we believe death lasts forever?”
1917. On a battlefield near the River Aisne, John lies in the aftermath of a blast, unable to move or feel his legs. Struggling to focus his thoughts, he is lost to memory—a chance encounter in a pub by a railway, a hot bath with his lover on a winter night, his childhood on a faraway coast—as the snow falls.
1920. John has returned from war to North Yorkshire, near another river—alive, but not whole. Reunited with Helena, an artist, he reopens his photography business and endeavours to keep on living. But the past erupts insistently into the present, as ghosts begin to surface in his ghosts whose messages he cannot understand .
So begins a narrative that spans four generations, moments of connection and consequence igniting and re-igniting as the century unfolds. In luminous moments of desire, comprehension, longing, and transcendence, the sparks fly upward, working their transformations decades later. This resonance through time—not only of actions but also of feelings and perceptions—desire in its many forms—are at the heart of this novel’s profound investigation.
Held is a deeply affecting and intensely beautiful novel, full of unforgettable characters and imagery, wisdom and compassion. It explores the deepest mysteries, and the ways in which desire in its many forms—and perhaps the deepest desire, to find meaning—manifests itself. Held moves through history to light upon Darwin, Sir Ernest Rutherford, North Sea ganseys, early photography, Ella Mary Leather, modern field hospitals…while lovers find each other and snow drifts down across the centuries. From the WW1 battlefield where the novel begins, and its opening lines, Held is alive with "We know life is finite. Why should we believe death lasts forever?”
240 pages, Hardcover
First published November 9, 2023
About the author
Anne Michaels
15 books45 followersAnne Michaels (born 15 April 1958) is a Canadian poet and novelist whose work has been translated and published in over 45 countries. Her books have garnered dozens of international awards including the Orange Prize, the Guardian Fiction Prize, the Lannan Award for Fiction and the Commonwealth Poetry Prize for the Americas. She is the recipient of honorary degrees, the Guggenheim Fellowship and many other honours. She has been shortlisted for the Governor General's Award, the Griffin Poetry Prize, twice shortlisted for the Giller Prize and twice long-listed for the International Dublin Literary Award. Michaels won a 2019 Vine Award for Infinite Gradation, her first volume of non-fiction. Michaels was the poet laureate of Toronto, Ontario, Canada from 2016 to 2019, and she is perhaps best known for her novel Fugitive Pieces, which was adapted for the screen in 2007.
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September 24, 2024
Shortlisted for the Booker prize 2024.
It is so hard to review this book because I am not sure what to say about it. It’s not like I understood much, anyway. Ok, only half joking.
Held might be quite tiny, but it is not an easy read. It requires quite a bit of concentration due to its structure. Also, patience. It took me a while to fully appreciate the writing and feel the atmosphere. I almost gave up at some point, thinking this is not for me.
I might say that the novel is a collection of vignettes about the members of a family (and some well-known people such as Marie Curie). The novel starts in 1917, on a battlefield, where John lies after a blast. The beginning is full of musing such as : ”We know life is finite. Why should we believe death lasts forever” or “We can only think about the unknown in terms of the known”. The latter idea is also found in Thinking, Fast and Slow, a non-fiction book I recommend. I think the author started as a poet and it shows. So, we jump back and forth in time and we get to know some of what happened to John and his kin. All, enveloped in a poetic, semi-translucent haze.
It seems to be a novel about death, loss, hope and …afterlife? Confusing at times but worth reading.
I received this novel from Netgalley and Bloomsbury Publishing Plc in exchange to an honest review.
It is so hard to review this book because I am not sure what to say about it. It’s not like I understood much, anyway. Ok, only half joking.
Held might be quite tiny, but it is not an easy read. It requires quite a bit of concentration due to its structure. Also, patience. It took me a while to fully appreciate the writing and feel the atmosphere. I almost gave up at some point, thinking this is not for me.
I might say that the novel is a collection of vignettes about the members of a family (and some well-known people such as Marie Curie). The novel starts in 1917, on a battlefield, where John lies after a blast. The beginning is full of musing such as : ”We know life is finite. Why should we believe death lasts forever” or “We can only think about the unknown in terms of the known”. The latter idea is also found in Thinking, Fast and Slow, a non-fiction book I recommend. I think the author started as a poet and it shows. So, we jump back and forth in time and we get to know some of what happened to John and his kin. All, enveloped in a poetic, semi-translucent haze.
It seems to be a novel about death, loss, hope and …afterlife? Confusing at times but worth reading.
I received this novel from Netgalley and Bloomsbury Publishing Plc in exchange to an honest review.
September 17, 2024
*Shortlisted for the 2024 Booker Prize*
4.5⭐️
Held by Anne Michaels opens on a battlefield in France in 1917, where John, a soldier, lies injured after a blast leaves him floating in and out of consciousness. His mind wanders as he reflects upon the significant moments and people in his life. We meet John again in 1930, running a photography business in Yorkshire with memories of battle and the devastation and loss that followed haunting his every thought, even finding their way into the pictures he takes. Though married to Helen and attempting to lead a normal life – not an easy journey for a man whose physical and emotional scars serve as a constant reminder of how much he last lost. We follow John's family and those connected to them through four generations following the tragedies, relationships and challenges they face and the choices they make as they find their way in the world and how the past and memories of the people they have loved and lost leave an indelible imprint on their lives.
Written in elegant poetic prose, heartbreaking yet hopeful, blending fictional and real characters and significant moments from history spanning over a century, this novel is a memorable read. I’ll admit that it took a while to adjust to the fragmented non-linear nature of the narrative but when I began to connect the dots, I was immersed in this thought-provoking short novel that revolves around family, love, loss and fate, the invisible threads that connect people and the ties that bind the past, present and the future into a continuous saga of the human experience.
If you read this short novel with a bit of patience, allowing for moments of pause and reflection, this will prove a rewarding experience. There were parts of this novel I read multiple times and would love to read again. This was my first time reading Anne Michaels and I shall definitely explore more of her work.
Many thanks to Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor for the digital review copy via NetGalley. All opinions expressed in this review are my own. This novel was published on January 30, 2024.
“There are so many ways the dead show us they are with us. Sometimes they stay deliberately absent, in order to prove themselves by returning. Sometimes they stay close and then leave in order to prove they were with us. Sometimes they bring a stag to a graveyard, a cardinal to a fence, a song on the wireless as soon as you turn it on. Sometimes they bring a snowfall.”
Connect with me! ✏ Instagram ✏ My Blog ✏ The StoryGraph
4.5⭐️
Held by Anne Michaels opens on a battlefield in France in 1917, where John, a soldier, lies injured after a blast leaves him floating in and out of consciousness. His mind wanders as he reflects upon the significant moments and people in his life. We meet John again in 1930, running a photography business in Yorkshire with memories of battle and the devastation and loss that followed haunting his every thought, even finding their way into the pictures he takes. Though married to Helen and attempting to lead a normal life – not an easy journey for a man whose physical and emotional scars serve as a constant reminder of how much he last lost. We follow John's family and those connected to them through four generations following the tragedies, relationships and challenges they face and the choices they make as they find their way in the world and how the past and memories of the people they have loved and lost leave an indelible imprint on their lives.
Written in elegant poetic prose, heartbreaking yet hopeful, blending fictional and real characters and significant moments from history spanning over a century, this novel is a memorable read. I’ll admit that it took a while to adjust to the fragmented non-linear nature of the narrative but when I began to connect the dots, I was immersed in this thought-provoking short novel that revolves around family, love, loss and fate, the invisible threads that connect people and the ties that bind the past, present and the future into a continuous saga of the human experience.
If you read this short novel with a bit of patience, allowing for moments of pause and reflection, this will prove a rewarding experience. There were parts of this novel I read multiple times and would love to read again. This was my first time reading Anne Michaels and I shall definitely explore more of her work.
Many thanks to Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor for the digital review copy via NetGalley. All opinions expressed in this review are my own. This novel was published on January 30, 2024.
“There are so many ways the dead show us they are with us. Sometimes they stay deliberately absent, in order to prove themselves by returning. Sometimes they stay close and then leave in order to prove they were with us. Sometimes they bring a stag to a graveyard, a cardinal to a fence, a song on the wireless as soon as you turn it on. Sometimes they bring a snowfall.”
Connect with me! ✏ Instagram ✏ My Blog ✏ The StoryGraph
September 16, 2024
Now deservedly shortlisted for the 2024 Booker prize!
So far, having read 12 books of the longlist and all the shortlisted books, this is my favourite, and it is due a reread!
This is a book I should not have listened to, but have read and savoured instead. The timelines and jumps are partly to blame, but the luminous, poetic language, while achingly beautiful, made it even harder to really fully digest and appreciate the novel as an audiobook
Terror can spring from what is most ordinary, just as love can
Held reminded me a bit of Love and Other Thought Experiments, a Booker longlister of 2020, in the way this is an utterly original book that doesn’t concern itself overly with being fully understood on the first reading. In short chapters, scattered through the decades, we are offered stories of love and struggle. Starting of beautifully with a scene of soldier in WW I, we move through countries and places, find lovers related to the aforementioned soldier and his love Helena, who are driven away from each other by war and a need for justice.
The interrelation between great history happening and interacting with small, particular lives across decades, seems a key topic of the author. Maybe most eloquently the approach the book takes is summed up in this quote about photography, an important part of the longest second chapter: If you hold the shutter open long enough everything moving disappears
The language (while gorgeous) and structure of small chapters after the first two sections of the book, do make the struggle of the characters at times feel strangely ethereal. The 1920 section, focusing on a photography studio with potentially supernatural elements was interesting and rivalled the start of the book on the battlefield, but many of the chapters that follow have an almost impressionistic quality. The war nurse family section is also strong, reflecting on what it means to be driven onwards and doing the right thing even if all the odds are not in your favour. In a sense this is a modern expression of faith, which is one of the key themes of the novel. This chapter reminded me a bit of a section of the The Bone Clocks, where we also have a section focussed on a character going to a war zone, in this case Iraq.
Even Marie Curie suddenly shows up near the end. Besides the relation to the reflections on faith versus science this felt slightly random for me, but again I see and appreciate the quality of this work and will be rereading it properly.
Quotes:
Perhaps the most important things we know can’t be proven
Was an error deliberately made still an error?
What we give cannot be taken from us
Faith uses the mechanism of doubt to prove itself. It is absence that proofs what was once present. We can understand without proof he thought, we can prove without understanding.
Everytime we disguise the truth we weaken our will
How many parts can be taken from us before we are no longer ourselves
The countless inner adjustments we make to be in the world, to accommodate our loneliness, our ache for reunion
Perhaps we are only send exactly the proof we can believe.
We can’t take money for a miracle
What history is war writing in our bodies now?
That the mechanism that disproves something is also the very mechanism of proof, and what we do not believe teaches us what we do believe. Faith is a mechanism just as love is, proving itself, once and for all and again and again, by its disappearance.
Was rescue always a kind of love?
But he did know with certainty that love was always a kind of rescue.
Who can say what happens when we are remembered?
So far, having read 12 books of the longlist and all the shortlisted books, this is my favourite, and it is due a reread!
This is a book I should not have listened to, but have read and savoured instead. The timelines and jumps are partly to blame, but the luminous, poetic language, while achingly beautiful, made it even harder to really fully digest and appreciate the novel as an audiobook
Terror can spring from what is most ordinary, just as love can
Held reminded me a bit of Love and Other Thought Experiments, a Booker longlister of 2020, in the way this is an utterly original book that doesn’t concern itself overly with being fully understood on the first reading. In short chapters, scattered through the decades, we are offered stories of love and struggle. Starting of beautifully with a scene of soldier in WW I, we move through countries and places, find lovers related to the aforementioned soldier and his love Helena, who are driven away from each other by war and a need for justice.
The interrelation between great history happening and interacting with small, particular lives across decades, seems a key topic of the author. Maybe most eloquently the approach the book takes is summed up in this quote about photography, an important part of the longest second chapter: If you hold the shutter open long enough everything moving disappears
The language (while gorgeous) and structure of small chapters after the first two sections of the book, do make the struggle of the characters at times feel strangely ethereal. The 1920 section, focusing on a photography studio with potentially supernatural elements was interesting and rivalled the start of the book on the battlefield, but many of the chapters that follow have an almost impressionistic quality. The war nurse family section is also strong, reflecting on what it means to be driven onwards and doing the right thing even if all the odds are not in your favour. In a sense this is a modern expression of faith, which is one of the key themes of the novel. This chapter reminded me a bit of a section of the The Bone Clocks, where we also have a section focussed on a character going to a war zone, in this case Iraq.
Even Marie Curie suddenly shows up near the end. Besides the relation to the reflections on faith versus science this felt slightly random for me, but again I see and appreciate the quality of this work and will be rereading it properly.
Quotes:
Perhaps the most important things we know can’t be proven
Was an error deliberately made still an error?
What we give cannot be taken from us
Faith uses the mechanism of doubt to prove itself. It is absence that proofs what was once present. We can understand without proof he thought, we can prove without understanding.
Everytime we disguise the truth we weaken our will
How many parts can be taken from us before we are no longer ourselves
The countless inner adjustments we make to be in the world, to accommodate our loneliness, our ache for reunion
Perhaps we are only send exactly the proof we can believe.
We can’t take money for a miracle
What history is war writing in our bodies now?
That the mechanism that disproves something is also the very mechanism of proof, and what we do not believe teaches us what we do believe. Faith is a mechanism just as love is, proving itself, once and for all and again and again, by its disappearance.
Was rescue always a kind of love?
But he did know with certainty that love was always a kind of rescue.
Who can say what happens when we are remembered?
September 19, 2024
Now Shortlisted for the Booker Prize 2024
From the trenches of WW I into the future, Anne Michaels gives us a montage of connected story lines centering on characters dealing with memory and grief - and if you're like me, you'll now say: "Wait, what? World war, history, and memory? Like the masterpiece that is Austerlitz? Like this other experimental gem the Booker nominated, The Long Take??" And the answer is: Yes, but if these were written by Paulo Coelho. And I hate Paulo Coelho.
The multiple characters we meet in the text are connected, some closer, some only vaguely, and we jump not only through time, but also change place, from England, to France, to what's today Belarus (Brest-Litovsk) to the Gulf of Finland. The conviction that the power of love and human connection can maybe not conquer everything, but stand strong in the face brutality, is an important narrative thread. And it all comes together in the most cutesy way imaginable: Calendar sayings, sentences screaming "hello, I'm deep" mixed with the most obvious metaphors. We also get various diary entries and dreams, all in the same tone, and love stories that heavily rely on the descriptions of optic details and touch, the latter actually very well done.
But no, I don't want to read about a soldier coming home from war and then working as a photographer, and then suddenly the subjects' dead loved ones appear in the images, and then some somber lines, and that's it for that vignette. That's lazy, and it's boring: The dead are never really dead, blah blah, blah. And there is so much more in that vein. Make something more of it, Anne! Give us a surprising angle, a new insight, a crisp, less self-involved sentence! Also, the way trauma is represented in the characters is very poor. Every episode of "Babylon Berlin" tells you more about the specific psychological trauma caused on the battlefields than this. And then, Ernest Rutherford shows sup. *Sigh* And "history is a continual convergence of stories" - you don't say.
This ain't it for me. Thanks for The Long Take though, Booker: What a fantastic novel about the repercussions of war, also written by a poet - and as prose poetry for that matter! - that I would never have encountered without the Prize. So please read this, or read some Rainer Maria Rilke, whose quote "Every angel is terrifying" from the Duino Elegies features in the book - has Michaels also read Walter Benjamin's ideas about the "angel of history"?
From the trenches of WW I into the future, Anne Michaels gives us a montage of connected story lines centering on characters dealing with memory and grief - and if you're like me, you'll now say: "Wait, what? World war, history, and memory? Like the masterpiece that is Austerlitz? Like this other experimental gem the Booker nominated, The Long Take??" And the answer is: Yes, but if these were written by Paulo Coelho. And I hate Paulo Coelho.
The multiple characters we meet in the text are connected, some closer, some only vaguely, and we jump not only through time, but also change place, from England, to France, to what's today Belarus (Brest-Litovsk) to the Gulf of Finland. The conviction that the power of love and human connection can maybe not conquer everything, but stand strong in the face brutality, is an important narrative thread. And it all comes together in the most cutesy way imaginable: Calendar sayings, sentences screaming "hello, I'm deep" mixed with the most obvious metaphors. We also get various diary entries and dreams, all in the same tone, and love stories that heavily rely on the descriptions of optic details and touch, the latter actually very well done.
But no, I don't want to read about a soldier coming home from war and then working as a photographer, and then suddenly the subjects' dead loved ones appear in the images, and then some somber lines, and that's it for that vignette. That's lazy, and it's boring: The dead are never really dead, blah blah, blah. And there is so much more in that vein. Make something more of it, Anne! Give us a surprising angle, a new insight, a crisp, less self-involved sentence! Also, the way trauma is represented in the characters is very poor. Every episode of "Babylon Berlin" tells you more about the specific psychological trauma caused on the battlefields than this. And then, Ernest Rutherford shows sup. *Sigh* And "history is a continual convergence of stories" - you don't say.
This ain't it for me. Thanks for The Long Take though, Booker: What a fantastic novel about the repercussions of war, also written by a poet - and as prose poetry for that matter! - that I would never have encountered without the Prize. So please read this, or read some Rainer Maria Rilke, whose quote "Every angel is terrifying" from the Duino Elegies features in the book - has Michaels also read Walter Benjamin's ideas about the "angel of history"?
January 30, 2024
The Canadian poet Anne Michaels publishes novels so deliberately that each one entrances readers of a new decade. Her debut novel, “Fugitive Pieces,” which tells the story of a Polish Jew who escaped the Nazis, appeared in 1996 and won a host of awards including the Orange Prize for Fiction. Her second novel, “The Winter Vault,” about the construction of two civil engineering projects large enough to alter history, was published in 2009.
Michaels’s fans — an intense group that should be larger — will recognize the atmosphere of longing that pervades her gorgeous new novel, “Held.” It’s a story that explores the way intense intimacy manages to thrive in vernal pools of calm during eras of grief and tumult. Perhaps the word “romantic” has been too thoroughly attenuated to use in praise, but “Held” may be one of the most romantic books I’ve ever read.
It’s also one of the most poetic — not just in sentiment but in form. “Held” unfolds in short blocks. One is tempted to call them stanzas. Some are just a couple of lines; others extend for a few pages. Many of these sections demand bridging elisions, catching thematic echoes and restitching a. . . .
To read the rest of this review, go to The Washington Post:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/books/...
Michaels’s fans — an intense group that should be larger — will recognize the atmosphere of longing that pervades her gorgeous new novel, “Held.” It’s a story that explores the way intense intimacy manages to thrive in vernal pools of calm during eras of grief and tumult. Perhaps the word “romantic” has been too thoroughly attenuated to use in praise, but “Held” may be one of the most romantic books I’ve ever read.
It’s also one of the most poetic — not just in sentiment but in form. “Held” unfolds in short blocks. One is tempted to call them stanzas. Some are just a couple of lines; others extend for a few pages. Many of these sections demand bridging elisions, catching thematic echoes and restitching a. . . .
To read the rest of this review, go to The Washington Post:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/books/...
August 3, 2024
That he is safe in her arms, loved by her forever, nothing can end this love she holds him in, love without end.
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.
Many thanks to Bloomsbury for an ARC via Netgalley
May 13, 2023
I am probably very unworthy to read a book like this because I struggle with poetry and this book has very poetic prose. It is beautiful and lyrical and you feel there should be soft music playing as you read - Gorecki comes to mind.
The chapters are all part of love stories as generations of a family fall in love and struggle through the adversities of whichever decade they are in.
As I said, the prose at times is so beautiful that I found it hard to move on. There is care given to each sentence. I am not a lover of poetry in general but I would definitely read the other books written by Anne Michaels. They are the sort of gifts I would like to give to the closest of friends.
Thankyou to Netgalley for the ARC.
The chapters are all part of love stories as generations of a family fall in love and struggle through the adversities of whichever decade they are in.
As I said, the prose at times is so beautiful that I found it hard to move on. There is care given to each sentence. I am not a lover of poetry in general but I would definitely read the other books written by Anne Michaels. They are the sort of gifts I would like to give to the closest of friends.
Thankyou to Netgalley for the ARC.
February 4, 2024
Celebrated Canadian poet and novelist Anne Michaels has somehow only just now found her way to my reading list. Held is a much anticipated novel for her readers, with more than a decade's time wedged between each of her novels.
The novel's form is fragmentary, and from the first it's clear the author is a poet. The lyrical prose is a pleasure, the fragments, though often short, are deeply thoughtful, and create a certain text density. The reader, despite all the space on the page, slows down to absorb what is being communicated.
This book will appeal to those who enjoy an immersion in ideas, and thematic explorations. This novel returns to the ideas of memory, love, the mystery of life, and science, to name a few. Likely it would be best read more than once, in order to really absorb all that's here.
The scope is wide; the novel follows generations of people, some of whose connections we can piece together, some, not so much. The form may be challenging in this respect. There is also the appearance of Marie Curie as a character, which I thought was a strange choice (not thematically, because she checks those boxes, I mean in terms of her being a known historical person in a dreamy tapestry of fictional characters) although perhaps I'm an outlier in that regard.
I have a great deal of admiration for Michaels' work. I'm not surprised that this would have taken years to create. My own preference, however, is for a less "idea driven" novel. As a reader, I am most excited by characters, not the authorial voice, which is quite strong here. One reviewer mentioned that sometimes Michaels' observations can be aphoristic, and that he prefers her more concrete writing, and that struck a chord for me.
That said, this is fine, artful work, and will delight and move many on a deep level.
3.5 stars (rounded up... always round up...)
The novel's form is fragmentary, and from the first it's clear the author is a poet. The lyrical prose is a pleasure, the fragments, though often short, are deeply thoughtful, and create a certain text density. The reader, despite all the space on the page, slows down to absorb what is being communicated.
This book will appeal to those who enjoy an immersion in ideas, and thematic explorations. This novel returns to the ideas of memory, love, the mystery of life, and science, to name a few. Likely it would be best read more than once, in order to really absorb all that's here.
The scope is wide; the novel follows generations of people, some of whose connections we can piece together, some, not so much. The form may be challenging in this respect. There is also the appearance of Marie Curie as a character, which I thought was a strange choice (not thematically, because she checks those boxes, I mean in terms of her being a known historical person in a dreamy tapestry of fictional characters) although perhaps I'm an outlier in that regard.
I have a great deal of admiration for Michaels' work. I'm not surprised that this would have taken years to create. My own preference, however, is for a less "idea driven" novel. As a reader, I am most excited by characters, not the authorial voice, which is quite strong here. One reviewer mentioned that sometimes Michaels' observations can be aphoristic, and that he prefers her more concrete writing, and that struck a chord for me.
That said, this is fine, artful work, and will delight and move many on a deep level.
3.5 stars (rounded up... always round up...)
February 3, 2024
This is one that takes some thinking about. Disjointed love stories in different times and places, it takes a while to figure out the connections, if you ever do. I feel like it needs to be read another time or two to really understand.
Beautiful writing.
Beautiful writing.
September 24, 2024
Shortlisted for Booker 2024
If I don’t make this brief, I’ll go on till next week. When a book leaves me breathless and smashed, shattered and hopeful, enters my dreams, epic it seems, I just can’t stop praising and raising it up for all eyes, to see, to touch, to hear, to succumb to its delicate beauty, woven with universal themes, of what it means, to be human, in life or demise. What you believe, it’s here in these pages, it took me ages to turn its leaves, I read every passage and then read it again. And again. However much agony, you survive, you die, but “We know life is finite. Why should we believe death lasts forever?” And that’s just the start. Even the white spaces damaged me, in all the best ways. It’s a lot. Like all Anne Michaels, you are changed by her story. I think I’ll go back, and begin the book again.
If I don’t make this brief, I’ll go on till next week. When a book leaves me breathless and smashed, shattered and hopeful, enters my dreams, epic it seems, I just can’t stop praising and raising it up for all eyes, to see, to touch, to hear, to succumb to its delicate beauty, woven with universal themes, of what it means, to be human, in life or demise. What you believe, it’s here in these pages, it took me ages to turn its leaves, I read every passage and then read it again. And again. However much agony, you survive, you die, but “We know life is finite. Why should we believe death lasts forever?” And that’s just the start. Even the white spaces damaged me, in all the best ways. It’s a lot. Like all Anne Michaels, you are changed by her story. I think I’ll go back, and begin the book again.
August 21, 2024
What a stunner. Gorgeous language. And the most quotable book of all the Bookers this year. And dare I say it is romantic through and through; really diving into desire in all of its forms. The desire for the perfect partner, for sex, for life, for faith, for self, for meaning, for a higher power, for closure, for peace, for solitude, for release. I was blown away. I liked her previous work FUGITIVE PIECES, but I devoured HELD. Breathtaking (and sad and haunting and sublime) beyond belief.
“He would understand, later, that there is a moment when your life must become your own; you must claim it from all the other stories you've been given, that have been handed down or thrust upon you, or that you've been left holding while someone else claimed theirs. He already knew that the life unchosen, left behind because of cowardice or shame, does not wither. But instead, without exception, grows rampant, choking the path ahead.”
“He would understand, later, that there is a moment when your life must become your own; you must claim it from all the other stories you've been given, that have been handed down or thrust upon you, or that you've been left holding while someone else claimed theirs. He already knew that the life unchosen, left behind because of cowardice or shame, does not wither. But instead, without exception, grows rampant, choking the path ahead.”
August 8, 2024
"Held" is one of a number of books on this year's Booker longlist that have tempted me. (I read Enlightenment before the list was published and I'm delighted to see it appear there.)
Michaels was a poet before becoming an author, and it shows throughout the book in both language and form. Consider this description of a couple who met by accident in a rural inn and became committed for life: “How many countless switch points had been necessary to bring them together at this table...?” Or this reflection on nature of life: "the constituent parts of our bodies make a soul".
The form of the book is fluid, like a running river that gurgles into side channels and pools that eventually rejoin the original, now changed by their absence and return. The vignettes that collectively constitute the book are scattered across a dozen times, from 1908 to 2025, and places, including England, France, Belarus, and Finland. Within each one we encounter multiple individuals and lyrical images of their life stories, often intertwined over the decades.
Michaels writes about the nature and persistence of love in the present and the way it extends to those who have died but whose presence remains alive in those they leave behind. The love experienced by her characters floats across that liminal distinction, overcoming the all-too-real gap between the living and dead.
The book opens on a WWI battlefield in France, with a wounded soldier drifting in and out of consciousness. Other battles, war zones, refugee camps and totalitarian states serve as backdrops to Michaels' message about the persistence of evil, love - and hope.
If you are fond of tight narrative structures you may not find this to your liking. Each short segment shimmers and fades, leaving behind a haunting, shadowy image that the reader must connect to what comes later.
Michaels herself narrates the audio version. In one way this enhanced my experience of the book, since her hushed voice provided additional context for her messages. And listening underscored the ephemeral nature of each small piece - it was there, and then it wasn't.
On the other hand, in some cases the prose is so gorgeous that it would have been pleasant to linger over phrases and images as they appeared on the page, something that is obviously missing from audio.
I was enchanted by the first two chapters, which make up nearly half the book; the next four chapters were nearly as good. But my enthusiasm waned in the final part, in which Michaels introduces characters and scenarios that serve to tie together the backstories of peripheral characters from the earlier sections. I would have been happy if she had stopped earlier; this felt a bit forced to me.
All in all, an exceptional book. I can see why it was long-listed, though I'm not sure it would be my choice for the short list.
Michaels was a poet before becoming an author, and it shows throughout the book in both language and form. Consider this description of a couple who met by accident in a rural inn and became committed for life: “How many countless switch points had been necessary to bring them together at this table...?” Or this reflection on nature of life: "the constituent parts of our bodies make a soul".
The form of the book is fluid, like a running river that gurgles into side channels and pools that eventually rejoin the original, now changed by their absence and return. The vignettes that collectively constitute the book are scattered across a dozen times, from 1908 to 2025, and places, including England, France, Belarus, and Finland. Within each one we encounter multiple individuals and lyrical images of their life stories, often intertwined over the decades.
Michaels writes about the nature and persistence of love in the present and the way it extends to those who have died but whose presence remains alive in those they leave behind. The love experienced by her characters floats across that liminal distinction, overcoming the all-too-real gap between the living and dead.
The book opens on a WWI battlefield in France, with a wounded soldier drifting in and out of consciousness. Other battles, war zones, refugee camps and totalitarian states serve as backdrops to Michaels' message about the persistence of evil, love - and hope.
If you are fond of tight narrative structures you may not find this to your liking. Each short segment shimmers and fades, leaving behind a haunting, shadowy image that the reader must connect to what comes later.
Michaels herself narrates the audio version. In one way this enhanced my experience of the book, since her hushed voice provided additional context for her messages. And listening underscored the ephemeral nature of each small piece - it was there, and then it wasn't.
On the other hand, in some cases the prose is so gorgeous that it would have been pleasant to linger over phrases and images as they appeared on the page, something that is obviously missing from audio.
I was enchanted by the first two chapters, which make up nearly half the book; the next four chapters were nearly as good. But my enthusiasm waned in the final part, in which Michaels introduces characters and scenarios that serve to tie together the backstories of peripheral characters from the earlier sections. I would have been happy if she had stopped earlier; this felt a bit forced to me.
All in all, an exceptional book. I can see why it was long-listed, though I'm not sure it would be my choice for the short list.
January 22, 2024
Ignore the Goodreads summary that mentions John twice. Yes, this exquisite book begins with John and his great love Helena, but it is not the story of generations of their family, although all those we encounter in the book are loosely related, it is not really a story at all. It is a meditation.
In moving vignettes that flow through time and place, some surreal or dreamlike, we meet a number of people who are experiencing loss or fear of loss under different circumstances-war, post war trauma, oppression, illness, or distance. Michaels shares their private thoughts, fears, and dreams and we witness their intimate moments with family, friends, and lovers.
Through each of the connected stories Michaels explores the ways that art, science, memory, even the supernatural can keep our loved ones present to us, even after their death.
It is apparent here, as it was in Fugitive Pieces, that Anne Michaels is a poet, she uses language to elicit feelings and emotions within the reader that feel like memories, and to pose questions that we begin to feel we too have wondered about all along.
This is not for readers looking for a plot driven narrative. It is an intelligent, sensitive reflection on our shared desire to remain close to loved one who have died.
Highly recommended
In moving vignettes that flow through time and place, some surreal or dreamlike, we meet a number of people who are experiencing loss or fear of loss under different circumstances-war, post war trauma, oppression, illness, or distance. Michaels shares their private thoughts, fears, and dreams and we witness their intimate moments with family, friends, and lovers.
Through each of the connected stories Michaels explores the ways that art, science, memory, even the supernatural can keep our loved ones present to us, even after their death.
It is apparent here, as it was in Fugitive Pieces, that Anne Michaels is a poet, she uses language to elicit feelings and emotions within the reader that feel like memories, and to pose questions that we begin to feel we too have wondered about all along.
This is not for readers looking for a plot driven narrative. It is an intelligent, sensitive reflection on our shared desire to remain close to loved one who have died.
Highly recommended
July 14, 2023
Briefly - Stunningly beautiful writing, somewhat puzzling maybe.
This book opens with John in 1917. He is on a battlefield in northern France, dazed and confused. His thoughts wander. In the next chapter it is 1920 and John has returned to North Yorkshire and his wife Helena. He reopens his photography business and maybe this is a clue to this book. We get snapshots of life. The book moves in time between earlier than the First World War and slightly past the present day. There are links between the snapshots and scenes we see though some are easier to find than others.
This is a strange book to read. Indeed I'm not sure I've read anything quite like this before. The fact that in some ways there is no "story" but a series of scenes from lives lived is maybe unusual. The writing - which is wonderful - is very poetic and is "stream of consciousness" at times. I would call it disjointed but not offensively so for me. In practice I'm finding it hard to review this book in a way that does it justice. Our journeys as readers of this book will be different.
I have to confess that parts of this book left me rather puzzled. However parts of it I loved. There is a scene where Helena, who has already been described as an artist, is a model for another painter. Then she paints again. This scene moved me in ways I find hard to describe. Peter gives a cap to (I'm fairly sure) his daughter's boyfriend - again that felt powerful and intense.
For me this is a book to be patient with and allow to happen to you. Experience this and let the flow take you
"Someday Anna would come to understand that everything she had thought of as loss was something found"
In here is love and loss, pain and beauty and maybe just life generally.
Overall I have no doubt that this will be one of the best books I read this year. I found it very interesting as well as powerfully moving. I guess I have to say that at times I did find it frustrating - what did happen to Helena for example. If you allow Held space and time it may well bring you good things. Held is a very special book. 4.5/5
"Who can say what happens when we are remembered"
Note - I received an advance digital copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for a fair review
This book opens with John in 1917. He is on a battlefield in northern France, dazed and confused. His thoughts wander. In the next chapter it is 1920 and John has returned to North Yorkshire and his wife Helena. He reopens his photography business and maybe this is a clue to this book. We get snapshots of life. The book moves in time between earlier than the First World War and slightly past the present day. There are links between the snapshots and scenes we see though some are easier to find than others.
This is a strange book to read. Indeed I'm not sure I've read anything quite like this before. The fact that in some ways there is no "story" but a series of scenes from lives lived is maybe unusual. The writing - which is wonderful - is very poetic and is "stream of consciousness" at times. I would call it disjointed but not offensively so for me. In practice I'm finding it hard to review this book in a way that does it justice. Our journeys as readers of this book will be different.
I have to confess that parts of this book left me rather puzzled. However parts of it I loved. There is a scene where Helena, who has already been described as an artist, is a model for another painter. Then she paints again. This scene moved me in ways I find hard to describe. Peter gives a cap to (I'm fairly sure) his daughter's boyfriend - again that felt powerful and intense.
For me this is a book to be patient with and allow to happen to you. Experience this and let the flow take you
"Someday Anna would come to understand that everything she had thought of as loss was something found"
In here is love and loss, pain and beauty and maybe just life generally.
Overall I have no doubt that this will be one of the best books I read this year. I found it very interesting as well as powerfully moving. I guess I have to say that at times I did find it frustrating - what did happen to Helena for example. If you allow Held space and time it may well bring you good things. Held is a very special book. 4.5/5
"Who can say what happens when we are remembered"
Note - I received an advance digital copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for a fair review
February 5, 2024
This novel is a mystical novel. “Attunement, boundaries, boundaries crossed. A bare micrometer.” From the first verse of the eighth chapter, whose character, Paavo, seems surely based on the contemporary classical composer of mystical and sacred works, Arvo Pärt. “The precipice of one word placed next to another, one note next to another.” The poet, the composer; imagine an invisible “l” inserted into “word”: the mystic.
One world next to another and the invisible boundary between them. Other than the mystic, suspect to science and the modern rational world, who is most attuned this locality? The lover, perhaps. The one left behind in grief, seems likely. Persons occupying these roles are the characters of Held, and they move in and out of the novel, related through family over time and space, their absence in one chapter proving their existence in another.
For “it is absence that proves what was once present,” Michaels writes, chapter 1. Here's a mystical experience: “He felt a presence, a thermal current, a tremor across the entire surface of things, like a heat mirage. A deepening, not a darkening. He knew he’d felt it because immediately he felt something even more certain and powerful: its dousing.”
That’s how it goes with mystical experiences. Often a brief flash and then gone. Unprovable to anyone. Unmeasurable. Unbidden by extremity likely to be regarded as suspect, delusion; and indeed, we have to be aware of this possibility, of tricks played on the mind. In other circumstances, in love and grief, we have more sympathy, at least, no?
A bereaved son in chapter 6: “I walked down to the water. I felt an overwhelming presence, the place itself seemed alive with strangeness. I watched the lake take in the darkness of the sky. No stars. The sense of a presence grew almost overpowering. Then, suddenly, the place was destitute. The presence was gone, though nothing outward had changed.” The son concludes: “If my father could have chosen any way to convince me of the soul, it would have been exactly this way - not by a sensed presence, but by its sudden absence.”
Can science uncover the truth of these experiences or is there a boundary line not to be crossed in this novel that is thinking about crossed boundaries, both of the mystical and of parallels to it in the natural world? A chemist muses on periodic table element 85, astatine: “We don’t know much about it, because the instant a sample is large enough to see, it vanishes. It appears when uranium decays, its most stable isotopes exist for less than a second - just long enough to detect its existence.” Interesting, but still dealing with something scientifically measurable, however brief its presence. An analogy, at least.
Back to Paavo/Pärt:
“When we are moved, Paavo thought, when we feel something beyond us, it is the boundary, the limit of the body that allows us to recognise it. Limit is proof of the beyond. Not the self, but what lies beyond the self. He would not be surprised if physics made sense of it someday; but only because science is bent on proving it doesn’t exist. Scientists will rip us to shreds looking for it, but it will not be found where they are looking. He remembered a joke, about someone who’d lost something and was searching across the street, under a street lamp. Why are you looking for it there? Because the light is better.”
The science/faith dichotomy and relationship is an interesting topic, but now I'm perhaps suggesting it to be more of a focus of the novel than it actually is. This is not Transcendent Kingdom. It is more poetic and mystical, perhaps broaching science simply because it can be a blockage to accepting certain experiences, and one may need to find a way around. “When we grew eyes did others of our kind believe us mad for what we saw?” Michaels, chapter 11, verse 3.
“Our machines govern our behaviour, thought Hertha, but they will never teach us meaning.”
This novel is a mystical novel.
One world next to another and the invisible boundary between them. Other than the mystic, suspect to science and the modern rational world, who is most attuned this locality? The lover, perhaps. The one left behind in grief, seems likely. Persons occupying these roles are the characters of Held, and they move in and out of the novel, related through family over time and space, their absence in one chapter proving their existence in another.
For “it is absence that proves what was once present,” Michaels writes, chapter 1. Here's a mystical experience: “He felt a presence, a thermal current, a tremor across the entire surface of things, like a heat mirage. A deepening, not a darkening. He knew he’d felt it because immediately he felt something even more certain and powerful: its dousing.”
That’s how it goes with mystical experiences. Often a brief flash and then gone. Unprovable to anyone. Unmeasurable. Unbidden by extremity likely to be regarded as suspect, delusion; and indeed, we have to be aware of this possibility, of tricks played on the mind. In other circumstances, in love and grief, we have more sympathy, at least, no?
A bereaved son in chapter 6: “I walked down to the water. I felt an overwhelming presence, the place itself seemed alive with strangeness. I watched the lake take in the darkness of the sky. No stars. The sense of a presence grew almost overpowering. Then, suddenly, the place was destitute. The presence was gone, though nothing outward had changed.” The son concludes: “If my father could have chosen any way to convince me of the soul, it would have been exactly this way - not by a sensed presence, but by its sudden absence.”
Can science uncover the truth of these experiences or is there a boundary line not to be crossed in this novel that is thinking about crossed boundaries, both of the mystical and of parallels to it in the natural world? A chemist muses on periodic table element 85, astatine: “We don’t know much about it, because the instant a sample is large enough to see, it vanishes. It appears when uranium decays, its most stable isotopes exist for less than a second - just long enough to detect its existence.” Interesting, but still dealing with something scientifically measurable, however brief its presence. An analogy, at least.
Back to Paavo/Pärt:
“When we are moved, Paavo thought, when we feel something beyond us, it is the boundary, the limit of the body that allows us to recognise it. Limit is proof of the beyond. Not the self, but what lies beyond the self. He would not be surprised if physics made sense of it someday; but only because science is bent on proving it doesn’t exist. Scientists will rip us to shreds looking for it, but it will not be found where they are looking. He remembered a joke, about someone who’d lost something and was searching across the street, under a street lamp. Why are you looking for it there? Because the light is better.”
The science/faith dichotomy and relationship is an interesting topic, but now I'm perhaps suggesting it to be more of a focus of the novel than it actually is. This is not Transcendent Kingdom. It is more poetic and mystical, perhaps broaching science simply because it can be a blockage to accepting certain experiences, and one may need to find a way around. “When we grew eyes did others of our kind believe us mad for what we saw?” Michaels, chapter 11, verse 3.
“Our machines govern our behaviour, thought Hertha, but they will never teach us meaning.”
This novel is a mystical novel.
September 5, 2024
I liked this a fair bit more than I thought I would, given that I’ve not been able to get on with Michaels in the past. I can’t count how many times I attempted and abandoned her much acclaimed
Fugitive Pieces.
The thing is: I like a plot, complex characterization, and clear prose. Michaels, essentially a poet, likes to play with language a lot more than I enjoy reading the resulting product. Some—many—describe her writing as beautiful, and I’d agree that it often is. I appreciate it as art, but, for me, the density and too-muchness of it create barriers to understanding and reading pleasure. I sometimes find myself more annoyed than moved. I have the same trouble with Michael Ondaatje’s novels. They, too, seem self-consciously literary and a bit precious.
In Held, whose themes concern love, death, and the ongoing bond between the living and the dead, Michaels employs many oblique and sometimes opaque metaphors, many of which draw on physics—its theories, processes, and apparatus. These, along with the experiences of some of her characters, underscore the mysteriousness of life and the limits of science. Much of what we know is not visible to our eyes. The author suggests that just as no one can see an atom, never mind protons, neutrons, and electrons (yet we now know they’re there), so it is for the soul. Connected to the body for a time, it is possible that it continues to exist (and may even yearn for loved ones left behind) once detached from matter. For those who remain on the physical plane, the beloved can often be sensed. Deep, passionate love that is somehow destined is also a thing for Michaels. The lovers—and there are a few pairs in this novel—are fatefully, mystically, and spiritually connected. Enduring love (unlimited by death) between parents and children (and between friends) is also acknowledged.
I no longer read much poetry, but when I do, I appreciate its economy, compactness, and precision. This perhaps explains my difficulty with the poetic novel: those rules are breached; plot and characters are often underdeveloped. There’s a cloying surfeit of images. Nevertheless, in this case, I was mostly “held” by the themes Michaels explores.
In Held, whose themes concern love, death, and the ongoing bond between the living and the dead, Michaels employs many oblique and sometimes opaque metaphors, many of which draw on physics—its theories, processes, and apparatus. These, along with the experiences of some of her characters, underscore the mysteriousness of life and the limits of science. Much of what we know is not visible to our eyes. The author suggests that just as no one can see an atom, never mind protons, neutrons, and electrons (yet we now know they’re there), so it is for the soul. Connected to the body for a time, it is possible that it continues to exist (and may even yearn for loved ones left behind) once detached from matter. For those who remain on the physical plane, the beloved can often be sensed. Deep, passionate love that is somehow destined is also a thing for Michaels. The lovers—and there are a few pairs in this novel—are fatefully, mystically, and spiritually connected. Enduring love (unlimited by death) between parents and children (and between friends) is also acknowledged.
I no longer read much poetry, but when I do, I appreciate its economy, compactness, and precision. This perhaps explains my difficulty with the poetic novel: those rules are breached; plot and characters are often underdeveloped. There’s a cloying surfeit of images. Nevertheless, in this case, I was mostly “held” by the themes Michaels explores.
July 29, 2024
Unanchored and incomprehensible. Can writers stop making regular people sound like pretentious poets, God it’s so cringe.
September 3, 2024
3.5, rounded down.
Hearing about this from other's reviews, I assumed I would have far greater difficulties with it than actually transpired, since I'd heard it was poetic, non-chronological and 'diffuse', three things which strike terror in me as a reader - and as those obstacles proved minor, I was extremely grateful.
As it was, I read it swiftly and finished it quickly (it's optimal to read it in one sitting, which I ALMOST did, since otherwise it CAN be difficult to ferret out connections between the chapters), and with the handy search feature on the Kindle, I could search out who the characters were and their relationships to each other (some fairly tenuous).
However, I just never cotton to works in which the thematic elements take sway over the narrative ones, and I was rarely convinced the insights and profundities were as clever, original or as vital as the author seemed to think they were (... much as I felt towards Orbital as well!).
I CAN appreciate the author's way with prose (and again, happy it was not pure poetry), and some chapters were mildly effective as standalone pieces - I just didn't feel it coalesced into anything terribly remarkable. Basically, it was just a mismatch between book and reader, but I have a feeling it WILL proceed from the Booker longlist to the shortlist, regardless of my lack of enthusiasm - but would be very surprised to find this the winner.
Hearing about this from other's reviews, I assumed I would have far greater difficulties with it than actually transpired, since I'd heard it was poetic, non-chronological and 'diffuse', three things which strike terror in me as a reader - and as those obstacles proved minor, I was extremely grateful.
As it was, I read it swiftly and finished it quickly (it's optimal to read it in one sitting, which I ALMOST did, since otherwise it CAN be difficult to ferret out connections between the chapters), and with the handy search feature on the Kindle, I could search out who the characters were and their relationships to each other (some fairly tenuous).
However, I just never cotton to works in which the thematic elements take sway over the narrative ones, and I was rarely convinced the insights and profundities were as clever, original or as vital as the author seemed to think they were (... much as I felt towards Orbital as well!).
I CAN appreciate the author's way with prose (and again, happy it was not pure poetry), and some chapters were mildly effective as standalone pieces - I just didn't feel it coalesced into anything terribly remarkable. Basically, it was just a mismatch between book and reader, but I have a feeling it WILL proceed from the Booker longlist to the shortlist, regardless of my lack of enthusiasm - but would be very surprised to find this the winner.
August 22, 2024
Held was an elusory type of reading experience. Not unpleasant but maybe akin to swimming through a kelp forest ?
Its murky, yet beautiful, strands of story float near your face but then when you go to hang onto them they elude your grasp. Its possible I spent too much time trying to link all the characters across time and actually maybe that wasn't the way to read this ? Is it really more short story adjacent ?
Shafts of light did penetrate occasionally and illuminated some passages of brilliance but mostly I spent my time trying not to get snagged and ending up drowned in the lush prose ( have I taken this metaphor too far - probably ).
Its murky, yet beautiful, strands of story float near your face but then when you go to hang onto them they elude your grasp. Its possible I spent too much time trying to link all the characters across time and actually maybe that wasn't the way to read this ? Is it really more short story adjacent ?
Shafts of light did penetrate occasionally and illuminated some passages of brilliance but mostly I spent my time trying not to get snagged and ending up drowned in the lush prose ( have I taken this metaphor too far - probably ).
Read
February 15, 2024This is a novel about the nature of human and life’s history, told in fractured poetic sentences in a mosaic of time. I loved the writing and marveled that I could follow it . . . until I couldn’t. I completely lost the thread in chapter IX, lost it even further in chapter X, to the point where I stopped struggling to understand or page back to refresh my memory so I could make connections between people and times. So by the time the very last short chapters came, seeming written to connect the dots and give the point of the book about how history isn’t as we see it, I’d stopped caring.
I can’t rate this book. I loved it for the longest time, and then didn’t.
I can’t rate this book. I loved it for the longest time, and then didn’t.
August 24, 2024
A Sweeping Family Saga
Review of the McLelland & Stewart hardcover edition (November 14, 2023) released simultaneously with the audiobook/eBook.
OK, I've put off reviewing this forever as I was just too intimidated about it. Shortly after reading the book I also happened to go to a local Toronto concert put on by Soundstreams which featured the music of Estonian composer Arvo Pärt. There was a prequel event where Pärt's music was performed at our local Estonian Canadian centre called Tartu College. Anne Michaels was one of the speakers at that event and the context was that she had written the libretto for a work by Canadian Estonian composer Omar Daniels.
Anne Michaels spoke about working with Omar Daniels and about Arvo Pärt in general. She did not mention a single word about her own book even though the fictional Estonian composer (who appears late in the book in the Estonia section) in Held is based on the real-life story of Arvo Pärt. But in the Q&A I did get a chance to ask about the book and her inspiration for it which she happily confirmed.
Afterwards I had a long chat with her about it as well. She kindly signed copies for myself and an additional one which I mailed to the librarian at the Arvo Pärt Centre in Estonia. I mention all of this just to give an example of how kind a person Anne Michaels is, that she wouldn't even mention her own related book in a situation, in order to not draw the focus on herself away from the composers and performers otherwise involved at an event.
Myself (left) and Anne Michaels chatting at Tartu College, Toronto, Canada. I do not remember what Anne Michaels said which caused me to look so surprised 😮. Photograph courtesy of Kai Kiilaspea.
I realize that this isn't much of a review about the book itself. It is a multi-generational saga that traces a family's journey from the early 20th century into the future. You might want to keep some notes as to who is who to help you follow along. Otherwise it is as beautiful a piece of writing as ever and one of my books of the year. But yes, I have a bias about it 😊.
Soundtrack
Probably the most well known works by Arvo Pärt (or at least the most recorded and performed) are Spiegel im Spiegel (Mirror in a Mirror), Für Alina (For Alina), Fratres (Brothers) and Tabula Rasa (Clean Slate). You can find dozens if not hundreds of recordings on YouTube and Spotify. To start you off, here is Spiegel im Spiegel.
Bonus Read
The most expressive writing about Arvo Pärt's music that I've ever read was in an article called Consolations by Alex Ross for The New Yorker, November 24 (online) December 2 (print), 2002. It may be behind a paywall at The New Yorker (unless you still have free reads), but you can read it at Ross' own blog The Rest is Noise here.
Review of the McLelland & Stewart hardcover edition (November 14, 2023) released simultaneously with the audiobook/eBook.
OK, I've put off reviewing this forever as I was just too intimidated about it. Shortly after reading the book I also happened to go to a local Toronto concert put on by Soundstreams which featured the music of Estonian composer Arvo Pärt. There was a prequel event where Pärt's music was performed at our local Estonian Canadian centre called Tartu College. Anne Michaels was one of the speakers at that event and the context was that she had written the libretto for a work by Canadian Estonian composer Omar Daniels.
Anne Michaels spoke about working with Omar Daniels and about Arvo Pärt in general. She did not mention a single word about her own book even though the fictional Estonian composer (who appears late in the book in the Estonia section) in Held is based on the real-life story of Arvo Pärt. But in the Q&A I did get a chance to ask about the book and her inspiration for it which she happily confirmed.
Afterwards I had a long chat with her about it as well. She kindly signed copies for myself and an additional one which I mailed to the librarian at the Arvo Pärt Centre in Estonia. I mention all of this just to give an example of how kind a person Anne Michaels is, that she wouldn't even mention her own related book in a situation, in order to not draw the focus on herself away from the composers and performers otherwise involved at an event.
Myself (left) and Anne Michaels chatting at Tartu College, Toronto, Canada. I do not remember what Anne Michaels said which caused me to look so surprised 😮. Photograph courtesy of Kai Kiilaspea.
I realize that this isn't much of a review about the book itself. It is a multi-generational saga that traces a family's journey from the early 20th century into the future. You might want to keep some notes as to who is who to help you follow along. Otherwise it is as beautiful a piece of writing as ever and one of my books of the year. But yes, I have a bias about it 😊.
Soundtrack
Probably the most well known works by Arvo Pärt (or at least the most recorded and performed) are Spiegel im Spiegel (Mirror in a Mirror), Für Alina (For Alina), Fratres (Brothers) and Tabula Rasa (Clean Slate). You can find dozens if not hundreds of recordings on YouTube and Spotify. To start you off, here is Spiegel im Spiegel.
Bonus Read
He has put his finger on something that is almost impossible to put into words—something to do with the power of music to obliterate the rigidities of space and time. One after the other, his chords silence the noise of the self, binding the mind to an eternal present.
The most expressive writing about Arvo Pärt's music that I've ever read was in an article called Consolations by Alex Ross for The New Yorker, November 24 (online) December 2 (print), 2002. It may be behind a paywall at The New Yorker (unless you still have free reads), but you can read it at Ross' own blog The Rest is Noise here.
February 11, 2024
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
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
August 29, 2024
"Held" by Anne Michaels, longlisted for the 2024 Booker Prize, is a haunting exploration of memory, love, and loss.
The novel centers on a handful of interconnected lives across the 20th century and into the future. As their stories unfold across continents and decades, the characters find themselves caught in a delicate dance between the past and present, each grappling with what it means to truly hold — or let go of — the people, moments, and emotions that shape them.
Michaels employs a nonlinear narrative structure that moves fluidly through time, much like the ocean currents and starlit skies that frequently appear in the story. Her writing is concise but densely layered, with every sentence rich in meaning. Recurring images of snow, moonlight, and the sea provide a sense of continuity, while artistic expressions such as photography, painting, journalism, and music serve as metaphors for capturing the fleeting essence of human experience.
Although I found the novel's layered style a bit challenging at first, it's the kind of writing that delivers as much reward as the work you are willing to put into the experience. As the story gains momentum, I found myself increasingly drawn into Michaels' world and her meditative reflections on life, love, and existence. The book made me see life as a candle flame — fragile, always on the verge of extinction, yet burning with intense brightness while it lasts.
Much like a Terrence Malick film, "Held" focuses more on imagery and evocative language than on traditional storytelling. Through this approach, we glimpse the characters’ lives in brief yet impactful moments. I suspect that "Held" will reveal even more of its depth and nuance upon a re-read, making it a novel that continues to resonate long after the final page.
The novel centers on a handful of interconnected lives across the 20th century and into the future. As their stories unfold across continents and decades, the characters find themselves caught in a delicate dance between the past and present, each grappling with what it means to truly hold — or let go of — the people, moments, and emotions that shape them.
Michaels employs a nonlinear narrative structure that moves fluidly through time, much like the ocean currents and starlit skies that frequently appear in the story. Her writing is concise but densely layered, with every sentence rich in meaning. Recurring images of snow, moonlight, and the sea provide a sense of continuity, while artistic expressions such as photography, painting, journalism, and music serve as metaphors for capturing the fleeting essence of human experience.
Although I found the novel's layered style a bit challenging at first, it's the kind of writing that delivers as much reward as the work you are willing to put into the experience. As the story gains momentum, I found myself increasingly drawn into Michaels' world and her meditative reflections on life, love, and existence. The book made me see life as a candle flame — fragile, always on the verge of extinction, yet burning with intense brightness while it lasts.
Much like a Terrence Malick film, "Held" focuses more on imagery and evocative language than on traditional storytelling. Through this approach, we glimpse the characters’ lives in brief yet impactful moments. I suspect that "Held" will reveal even more of its depth and nuance upon a re-read, making it a novel that continues to resonate long after the final page.
September 24, 2024
Absence of evidence does not mean evidence of absence. Michaels builds her book on fragments of stories of connections between people, visible and invisible connections. Changed connections as well because a person might no longer be present, but in some way, the connection remains. What's invisible is still there even if unseen as it can be seen through the effects, the feelings, the love, the longing, the grief, the loss.
There is a bit about a cap, which Peter made for his son in law, then we see the same cap again on the head of the son in law's daughter or maybe his granddaughter, the connections are ephemeral. But the connections remain, the cap becomes more than a cap but a link to a person, to memories, to happiness, to love and by letting it be part of your life you are also letting your past loves, your ancestors be part of your life.
There is a bit about a cap, which Peter made for his son in law, then we see the same cap again on the head of the son in law's daughter or maybe his granddaughter, the connections are ephemeral. But the connections remain, the cap becomes more than a cap but a link to a person, to memories, to happiness, to love and by letting it be part of your life you are also letting your past loves, your ancestors be part of your life.
August 28, 2024
Booker Book 6 of 13: 9/10. A beautiful difficult book that bears reading and re-reading. Michaels makes you do the work to connect the fragmentary chapters which trace related - by blood or by friendship- people through the 20th century and beyond. The book touches on many big thenes: the border between life and death/love and memory, scientific discovery and the traumas of war, and how all these themes inform each other. I know I missed much of it - there are many historical breadcrumbs (Marie Curie makes an appearance but others are more subtle) to be followed- and I look forward to reading again and savoring all this. Michaels’ prose is gorgeous, spare and epigrammatic but piercing and evocative. I could give this book the Booker.
November 8, 2023
I finished reading Held nearly two weeks ago but have been struggling to write a review of this beautifully poetic but enigmatic book. I say enigmatic because characters’ thoughts often move imperceptibly between past and present. This is particularly the case in the first section of the book.
The book’s title is reflected in numerous ways: the physical act of being held, of being held in another’s memory or the force that holds two things together, such as an apple clutched in a hand. There are scenes of tenderness and intimacy, many of which are incredibly moving. One in particular, in which a woman lies in a bath cradling her dying husband, moved me to tears.
Objects, clothing or traditional customs provide connections between one generation and the next. Photography is a recurring motif. And there is subtle use of repetition with little details that bring to mind previous scenes. For example, a character remembering another person’s gestures – ‘how you held a glass, or a pen, or a fork and knife’ – or habits – ‘whether you opened and read a magazine from the front cover or the back’ – as a way of bringing them back to life, as it were. Or as evidence of intimate knowledge of another person. ‘Her small ways known only to him. That she matched her socks to her scarf even when no one could see them in her boots. That she kept beside the bed, superstitiously unfinished, the novel she had been reading the day they understood they would always be together… The boiled sweet tin she kept her foreign change in.’
Held‘s fluid narrative structure may not be to every reader’s taste but the beauty of the language (unsurprising perhaps given the author is a poet) makes it a rewarding read. Just go with the flow is my advice, as if listening to a piece of classical music that has moments of intensity interspersed with stillness.
The book’s title is reflected in numerous ways: the physical act of being held, of being held in another’s memory or the force that holds two things together, such as an apple clutched in a hand. There are scenes of tenderness and intimacy, many of which are incredibly moving. One in particular, in which a woman lies in a bath cradling her dying husband, moved me to tears.
Objects, clothing or traditional customs provide connections between one generation and the next. Photography is a recurring motif. And there is subtle use of repetition with little details that bring to mind previous scenes. For example, a character remembering another person’s gestures – ‘how you held a glass, or a pen, or a fork and knife’ – or habits – ‘whether you opened and read a magazine from the front cover or the back’ – as a way of bringing them back to life, as it were. Or as evidence of intimate knowledge of another person. ‘Her small ways known only to him. That she matched her socks to her scarf even when no one could see them in her boots. That she kept beside the bed, superstitiously unfinished, the novel she had been reading the day they understood they would always be together… The boiled sweet tin she kept her foreign change in.’
Held‘s fluid narrative structure may not be to every reader’s taste but the beauty of the language (unsurprising perhaps given the author is a poet) makes it a rewarding read. Just go with the flow is my advice, as if listening to a piece of classical music that has moments of intensity interspersed with stillness.
July 30, 2024
A story of family and friends spanning more than a century, distilled down to its core poetry and metaphysics.
July 31, 2024
The book opens in World War I with John lying wounded on a battlefield. It moves to memories of John’s meeting his wife-to-be, Helen, an artist, and to their life together. It touches on his career as a photographer. There is no storyline, per se. It moves through time and place, forward and backward, to various European countries and from the late 1800s to the near future, covering four generations. John's relations make an appearance. It moves quickly from one image or thought to another. A primary theme is the trauma and pain caused by war. It also explores the line between life and death, the possibility that the dead coexist with the living. There are recurring supernatural elements and appearances by Marie Curie and Ernest Rutherford.
This is a short beautifully written book told in an extremely fragmented manner. I think people who can relate to the expressed emotions in this book will appreciate it more than those (like me) who are looking for more of a narrative arc rather than a series of scenes. The writing is elegant throughout. In fact, the poetic prose is my favorite part, and it almost reads as a long poem. Unfortunately, I never felt immersed in it. It is one of those where you either relate to the feelings that are being conveyed or you don’t. I just didn’t and it is hard to explain why. Perhaps I was so busy admiring the writing that I did not connect with the emotional content. Perhaps it was just too fragmented for my taste. At any rate, I don’t have anything bad to say about it, but I didn’t connect to it in any deep fashion. This book has been nominated for the Booker Prize, and in my opinion, even though it is not a personal favorite, it deserves its place on the list.
3.5
This is a short beautifully written book told in an extremely fragmented manner. I think people who can relate to the expressed emotions in this book will appreciate it more than those (like me) who are looking for more of a narrative arc rather than a series of scenes. The writing is elegant throughout. In fact, the poetic prose is my favorite part, and it almost reads as a long poem. Unfortunately, I never felt immersed in it. It is one of those where you either relate to the feelings that are being conveyed or you don’t. I just didn’t and it is hard to explain why. Perhaps I was so busy admiring the writing that I did not connect with the emotional content. Perhaps it was just too fragmented for my taste. At any rate, I don’t have anything bad to say about it, but I didn’t connect to it in any deep fashion. This book has been nominated for the Booker Prize, and in my opinion, even though it is not a personal favorite, it deserves its place on the list.
3.5
April 29, 2024
"history is liminal"
Well worth the read just for Michaels' writing style which is unsurprisingly stunning.
Well worth the read just for Michaels' writing style which is unsurprisingly stunning.
August 6, 2024
Gorgeous prose writing by this Canadian poet at heart, brimming with her lyrical meditations about what connects us as humans across space and time, the power of love to transcend death, and the force of the invisible and the unknown permeating our lives and our planet as a whole. Although not entirely succeeding as a novel, as the threading seams stitching together four generations of characters can get too loose and shapeless in later parts, it's a beautiful book to read, offering thoughtful observations about the limits of our civilization once it stops searching beyond the tangible and visible, failing to recognize the interconnectedness of our lives as humans on both the individual and collective planes.
Photography is often featured as a metaphor for that elusive line between the past, present and future, between the memory of someone (anyone) whose life is not defined by mortality but by its continuation through the lives of others, like here:
As I was reading, the beauty of Michaels' language kept me dazzled:
Photography is often featured as a metaphor for that elusive line between the past, present and future, between the memory of someone (anyone) whose life is not defined by mortality but by its continuation through the lives of others, like here:
“You don’t need a camera to see or to remember," he said, "but you need a camera for proof of what is no longer – so that others can remember.”
As I was reading, the beauty of Michaels' language kept me dazzled:
Our beautiful spring day. The glorious flower meadow, the armful you carried home for us, Eugène, filling the huge heavy glass vase so that the thirsty marsh marigold, mahonia and broom in all their shining yellows could drink and drink the singingly clear cold water.
That evening, I could not comprehend that the wildflowers you’d picked for us had outlived you.
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