Heap Earth Upon It

Rural Ireland, 1965. The four O’Leary siblings turn up in the small town of Ballycrea, each haunted by their past. This is all we know. The rest of Heap Earth Upon It has Chloe Michelle Howarth drip-feeding us fragments of crucial information from the perspectives of Tom (the eldest and desperate to please), Jack (isolated and grieving), and Anna (scornful and overwhelmed). They are all anchored by little Peggy – only nine years old and growing up without parents. As the family’s friendship with locals Bill and Betty Nevan sparks connection and work opportunities for the family, who are all desperate for belonging, it also sees obsessions begin to simmer.

Howarth has created a formidable, Gothic-style novel, and with great success. The style is tight and incisive, while maintaining a slight mystifying tone across the novel with first-person insight from Betty and the siblings. I found it like experiencing a very vivid dreamscape. The story is well-grounded, but with enough unknowns referenced that you never truly feel as though you know what is going on – somewhat reminiscent of Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go.

Heap Earth Upon It is an engrossing tale of broken families and passion that doggedly paces along the edge of violence. Howarth has somehow managed to give us a book that is one big, sustained sinking feeling, full of complex family dynamics, all-consuming sapphic desire, and small-town tensions. You are privy to every neurosis that each sibling tends toward and every uncharitable thought they have – as well as every proclamation of grief and bid for hope. I, for one, hope there is another book in the works for Howarth, and that it is as good as her first two.