A Heartfelt Dive into Open, Heaven by Seán Hewitt
As I flipped the cover of Seán Hewitt’s Open, Heaven, I was struck instantly by its promise—a journey through the tender corridors of memory and desire. The evocative excerpts from the text beckoned my curiosity, urging me to explore the depths of nostalgia and longing. In a world that often feels rushed, Hewitt’s debut fiction novel offers a reflective pause, an opportunity to examine the fragile threads of youth through a lyrical lens.
Set in the picturesque, if fictitious, Thornsmere, where time feels suspended between the Great Wars, we meet James—a shy and introspective teenager who returns to revisit his past. His journey is both physical and emotional, oscillating between moments of radiant joy and suffocating regret. "There are intervals of light and dark overhead, like the sun breaking through willows," Hewitt writes, capturing the duality of James’s experience. It’s a fine metaphor for how our memories can illuminate or shadow our present selves.
As I navigated through the pages, I found myself immersed in the potent themes of desire and self-discovery. James’s relationship with the charming, enigmatic Luke is at the heart of this narrative. Their connection blooms amidst an electric tension that leaps from the page—a testament to Hewitt’s poetic background. The intimate details, like a trail of hair or shared warmth, resonate deeply, evoking feelings of yearning that I suspect many readers will find familiar. Today, reflecting on my own adolescent struggles, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of James’s internal conflicts; his fear of visibility and simultaneous yearning to be known echoed my own experiences growing up.
Hewitt’s prose is undoubtedly beautiful, with a dreamlike quality. However, it risks losing some readers in its occasional moments of vagueness. There are times when the weight of longing feels almost unbearable, and while this ache is part of the narrative’s charm, it can also be frustrating. Phrases like “time runs faster backwards” linger in my mind, their poetic essence laying bare the struggle against the irreversible tide of nostalgia.
I was particularly touched by the way Open, Heaven navigates the complexities of platonic love and the unfulfilled desires that shape our identities. James recalls his deep obsession with Luke and the visceral feeling of longing—“I could not take my eyes off him.” Here, Hewitt masterfully captures adolescence’ raw, vibrant intensity, reminding us how friendships can exist in the realm of the unspoken, creating a layered sense of intimacy.
Ultimately, Open, Heaven resonates with anyone reflecting on the bittersweet symphony of youth. It’s a poignant meditation on memory, love, and the heart’s tenacious desire to reach back into the past. This novel will appeal to readers who appreciate literary fiction steeped in lyricism and emotional depth—think fans of André Aciman or Richard Powers.
In closing, the reading experience felt like a tender embrace, one that reverberated long after I turned the final page. I am grateful to Random House UK, Vintage | Jonathan Cape, and Seán Hewitt for gifting me this ARC in exchange for my honest opinion. As the sunlight breaks through my memories, I’m left with a warm, lingering sense of nostalgia—a feeling that proves to be both beautiful and, yes, achingly familiar.