Helm by Sarah Hall was my book group’s last pick. Our host, the wonderful Katie at Ramona Books, sent out a reminder email which made me laugh –

Helm, or Hmmm? … I’ll be pouring generously for all who managed to wade through.

In summary, it’s a story spanning hundreds of years, told from many perspectives, including that of a most unusual narrator – the wind. More specifically, the wind is the Helm, a strong, cold, northeasterly Foehn wind that blows down the slopes of Cross Fell in Cumbria, England. Helm is the only officially named wind in the British Isles and it is notorious for bringing freezing temperatures, roaring noise, and wrecking damage across the valley.

Helm is very creative and imaginative. I appreciated it on many levels but unfortunately, I did not enjoy it.

The writing is beautiful in parts and clever – distinctive voices for the various narrators (there were at least ten, which ranged from a woman in a Neolithic tribe and a Victorian steam engineer to a climate scientist in the near future). Helm is the constant as we move through time, an observer of change, emerging as a distinct character with a wicked sense of humour. Of humans, Helm says –

Their making improves. Furnaces. Farms. Roads. Medicenes to heal wounds and sadness and the shits. Baths. Wheels. Helm topples trees, uproots crops, overturns feed stacks, steals loose blankets. They rebuild, reweave, reknot, renail: better designs, stronger glue, neater stones (Romans, very anal).

Some voices I found more compelling than other but the standout was a little girl called Janni. Her story was set in the 1960s. Janni sees Helm’s presence as a comfort. Other people, particularly her mother, view Janni’s behaviour as peculiar and unnecessarily high-spirited. Without too many spoilers, Janni is taken away to an asylum (and treated for what I interpreted as schizophrenia). The story is absolutely devastating but Helm’s influence is incorporated in such a clever way.

She doesn’t think of Helm. She doesn’t have a friend. Only spaces in her mind where something extraordinary and companionable and wrong used to reside. Empty pockets in her life where shiny things no longer are collected.

The book also covers some meaty themes. It’s essentially organised around the shift between nature-man-machine from ancient tribes placating Helm, to humans attempting to capture and control the wind, and ultimately to the future, where there’s an understanding that damage has been done and nature will take its course.

There is also an interesting theme of power, notably trying to have power over nature, and men/ society having power over women. For example, the Victorian engineer, Thomas, struggles to understand how to test the movement of the wind. He is boarding at the house of an intelligent woman, Beatrice, who, because of the time, could be nothing but a wife. But Beatrice understands Helm and explains the wind to Thomas with a neat sketch. Thomas promises that he will acknowledge her when his work is published. His next chapter consists simply of a sketch, published in a government document, and attributed only to ‘T. F. Bodger’.

So, why didn’t I enjoy this book? Some of the perspectives felt superfluous and some I simply didn’t like – I found myself skimming through particular characters (others in my book group reported the same). There were also multiple interludes – sketches, maps, lists, mathematical equations related to wind – that were mildly interesting and occasionally sent me on internet searches, but could have been omitted.

Overall, the book felt long (it wasn’t really – 340pp) and I think that was because of the constant shifts between narrators. I wanted more from Helm – Helm as a character was insightful and funny –

Helm’s Wind-Force Scale … 5. Fresh Helm (naughty). Wind speed 19-24 mph. Trees swaying, wavelets on puddles and cattle troughs, garden birds grounded while hawks consider position, gentlemen’s handkerchiefs levitating; zesting of libidos.
… 11. Violent-Storm Helm (berserker syndrome). Wind speed 64-72 mph. Widespread chaos, flattened woods and roofs removed, children weeping uncontrollably, last wills and testaments produced, la mort d’amour.

If Hall had done away with a handful of characters, I think Helm would have been a far more compelling read.

2.5/5

The doctor sets the bottles on the table. 
I can make you a cup of tea? Mammy says quickly. And I have some pepper cake just baked.
No thank you, Mrs Calder, the doctor says. I have my rounds… Give the cake to Janni. Nice and soft for her to chew.
Mammy glances over at her daughter and away so quickly it’s as if her eyes have been burned. What am I to do with her? she snaps.