Book Review: The Vessel by Adam Nevill (2022)
Ritual Limited
(This review is spoiler-free.)
Something felt askew with The Vessel from the outset, but I had a hard time articulating what it was until very late in the novel. This was my tenth Adam Nevill read, and I had to entertain that perhaps a bit of reader’s malaise was settling in, as not every author can continually present a new side to their game as their career moves into its second (or third, fourth, etc.) decade. Still, this didn’t feel like a phone-in or a failed pivot by one of my favorite modern authors, but something distinctly new and intentional in the stylistic construction of the story.
The Vessel felt leaner than his other books, wiry and eager like a boxer stepping up from the amateur circuit for the first time. Like certain Tom Waits songs, everything was visual, the page space devoted to action and vivid descriptions while the thoughts of the characters remained decidedly off-scene. The story was always before the reader, spooling out relentlessly as each uneasy moment begat a deeper, darker one. There was no reflection by the characters, no lengthy interior monologues about how they would make it past the challenges of the moment.
Natural Horrors
Jess, our main character in The Vessel, is a single mother fighting to make a place for both her child, Izzy, and herself while living in a perpetual state of insecurity. This hit close to home, as it is how I spent the first few years of my life: the wolves are always at the other side of the door, and there’s usually some other entity–an undeserving man, a demanding job, a parent whose assistance comes only on their own stark terms–upon whom the woman’s well-being depends. It’s a scenario that cuts deep whenever I encounter it.
Jess’s challenges are legion, and beset her from all sides: her ex-husband and past abuser just got out of jail, her daughter, Izzy, is the repeated target of her school’s bullies, and the apartment she lives in is able to provide neither restful sleep nor security. Her one gilded chance out of these troubles is a new work contract: a caregiving job at Nerthus House, an old vicarage which serves as the residence to an elderly dementia patient named Flo who has seemingly lost all familial ties. Even the other women of her neighborhood seem to shun her, tending their gardens as they look on at the happenings of Nerthus House from a safe distance.
“Nerthus House remains under a shadow. Even on a day as beautiful as this, you can see it.”
The Nerthus House job pays more than most gigs in the caregiving world, and Jess’s boss wastes no time in reminding her that her service to the aged Flo must be impeccable. This is her shot to change her life, escape her ex-husband, secure her daughter’s wellbeing, and the reader feels the daunting weight of how much this means to the character.
But nothing comes easy: her new charge shows intense spite despite her near-catatonic state, spitting at and striking Jess almost upon their first meeting. Flo’s once-regal home is an unlit cavern littered with fifty-years’ worth of refuse and disused affects that Jess is forbidden to touch. To make matters worse, her fellow caregiver, a hardscrabble woman named Morag, seems determined to undermine any and all of Jess’s efforts to improve Flo’s treatment and make Nerthus House a more habitable place.
“As on the ground floor, up here a poorly-lit exhibition of antiquities with no curator is strewn, piled and propped. A jumbled archive of a long life bereft of a librarian”
At first, the position seems untenable, but fortunes appear to turn when Jess is unable to procure a last-minute babysitter and must take Izzy to work with her. Flo takes an immediate and unfathomable liking to the girl, all at once becoming a much more manageable patient when the child is around.
That’s when the strangeness starts for Jess. Her dreams are filled with visions of Nerthus House and the mysterious grove that lies beyond it, where scythe-carrying women once walked in a procession before a woven hawthorn cage. Izzy and Flo become secretive, whispering when she is out of sight, and Jess finds fleshy trophies and tiny altars hidden around the house.
To make matters worse, her ex-husband is released from jail and is seemingly determined to overstep the boundaries set for him by the courts. Izzy’s troubles at school escalate, and it becomes more and more difficult for Jess to draw any boundaries in her life as she seems to be beset from all sides by challenges both of and apart from the material world.
“Across the road, those who watch the vicarage’s transformation see windows beaming golden. Not only has the grin at ground level broadened, but the eyes are open and alight upstairs. A watcher may remark that after sleeping for so long, the building appears to have been roused from within.”
While there’s nothing overly explicit on the page, The Vessel is a book where I felt perpetual dread about the fate of the main character. Jess has had a tough hand dealt to her so far, and despite little glimmers of promise that seem to come into her life, as a reader you know things are likely going to get worse in ways she’s not prepared to confront. There’s an oppressive weight about the novel, and I was quickly trained to mistrust anything that felt like a turn for the better.
New Life for Old Gods?
Adam Nevill is exceptionally good at building layers, (I touched on in an earlier review of his book, Under a Watchful Eye) but the strength of this novel is that each inevitably ends up going on a much longer and darker journey than initially presented. I continually found myself impressed with his creativity as the story gave up its secrets, and while it ultimately went more-or-less where I expected at the outset, that place looked very different once I got there.
When I finally reached the afterword, Nevill was kind enough to name the thing that had been troubling me in a thoughtful, reflective essay on the evolving structure of fiction. My sense that this book was fundamentally different from his past entries had a clear cause: The Vessel began life as a screenplay, and, when the realities of being a modern horror author played out, it was ultimately adapted into the novella we have now. This explains the shift in style, the reason we don’t get to examine a lot of Jess’s thoughts directly, and why I hope this masterful little tale one day finds its way to the screen.
As I’ve detailed in other reviews, I personally don’t have a great appetite for these concise, busy works of fiction that don’t do much character development, showcase personal reflection, or engage in complex plots, but works like this are more tailored to today’s audience and their shorter attention spans. That being said, Nevill makes the transition to the modern style expertly here; his story is well-written and may well lead to him finding an expanded audience, even if it lacks the patient builds that I loved in The Ritual, Cunning Folk, and House of Small Shadows. If you’ve bounced off of his work in the past because it was too dense or detailed, consider giving The Vessel a try. Maybe it will give you what you need to tilt at those older titles anew.
Score: 7.2/10
Strengths
Tight manuscript, keeps the story moving
Mystery feels grounded in reality, as though Nerthus House could very well be an actual place tucked away in a small town in England
Some of the horrors in this book remind us of real life’s struggles
Surprising, satisfying ending
Weakness
Not as deep as some of his other works
After the superb Cunning Folk, short length may leave established fans wanting more
Doesn’t lift the veil as much as some Nevill’s novels, which may frustrate some readers
You can purchase The Vessel at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or preferably, directly from the author.
You may also like: The Fisherman by John Langan; Under a Watchful Eye
