An exhilarating, twisted tale of desire, suspicion, and obsession between two women staying in the same house in the Dutch countryside during the summer of 1961—a powerful exploration of the legacy of WWII and the darker parts of our collective past.
A house is a precious thing...
It is 1961 and the rural Dutch province of Overijssel is quiet. Bomb craters have been filled, buildings reconstructed, and the war is truly over. Living alone in her late mother’s country home, Isabel knows her life is as it should be—led by routine and discipline. But all is upended when her brother Louis brings his graceless new girlfriend Eva, leaving her at Isabel’s doorstep as a guest, to stay for the season.
Eva is Isabel’s antithesis: she sleeps late, walks loudly through the house, and touches things she shouldn’t. In response, Isabel develops a fury-fueled obsession, and when things start disappearing around the house—a spoon, a knife, a bowl—Isabel’s suspicions begin to spiral. In the sweltering peak of summer, Isabel’s paranoia gives way to infatuation—leading to a discovery that unravels all Isabel has ever known. The war might not be well and truly over after all, and neither Eva—nor the house in which they live—are what they seem.
Mysterious, sophisticated, sensual, and infused with intrigue, atmosphere, and sex, The Safekeep is a brilliantly plotted and provocative debut novel you won’t soon forget.
Yael van der Wouden is a writer and teacher. She currently lectures in creative writing and comparative literature in the Netherlands. Her essay on Dutch identity and Jewishness, On (Not) Reading Anne Frank, has received a notable mention in The Best American Essays 2018. The Safekeep is her debut novel and was acquired in hotly-contested nine-way auctions in both the UK and the US. Rights have sold in a further twelve countries. In 2024 it was longlisted for the Booker Prize.
Update! Now winner of the Women’s Prize for fiction 2025
for the Booker prize 2024
Beautiful, just beautiful.
I read this in Romanian because I was a bit bored with reading only in English. The novel was nicely translated by Ana Dan and narrated by Cosmina Dobrota. The novel is set in 1961 and, as the blurb says, it explores the legacy of WW2. It is also a story about passion.
Isabel lives alone in a country home and is content with her discipline and routine. All her life tumbles upside down when her brother’s girlfriend comes to stay with her for a few months. At first, Isabel deeply dislikes the unsophisticated woman but, after a while, her opinion changes. As I mentioned, Isabel, is a very meticulous woman, who has lists of all the things in her house. After Eva moves in, things start to disappear. She suspects the newcomer but has no proof.
A warning for the reader, this novel is quite hot and if you are bothered by explicit sex scenes, then it might not be for you. I read reviews complaining about this, so I thought I should let you know about this aspect. On the other hand, you will miss a beautifully written novel. The characters were exceptionally well written and I could feel the tension the writer tried to convey. I find it incredible that it is a debut novel.
The initial allure of The Safekeep faded quickly as the narrative, poised to be a tale of psychological suspense, delivers a conventional, and occasionally trite, story. The novel’s tense atmosphere quickly gave way to a sentimentality that felt unearned and out-of-place, disappointingly milquetoast (better suited to a generic period-drama if you ask me).
In the summer of 1961 in the quiet Dutch province of Overijssel, Isabel, living alone in her late mother's country home, finds her daily routine disrupted by the unwelcome arrival of Eva, her brother Louis’ latest girlfriend. Despite her protestations, Louis, the ‘official’ owner of the house, forces his decision onto Isabel before setting off. Eva is very much an unwanted guest and behaves in a way that sets Isabel’s teeth on edge. Isabel, already prone to paranoia and possessing a rather sanctimonious outlook, abhors Eva. She seems to believe that Eva’s girlish, laid-back nature is a front and soon suspects her of stealing when several items go missing. Now and again they spend time with Isabel’s other brother, who to her disapproval is living with a close male ‘friend’ of his. Nothing much happens beyond a series of domestic scenes in which Isabel is depicted as a repressed, slightly neurotic woman who, like many repressed fictional characters before her, lets out her frustration and anger by stuffing her face into a towel or a pillow or whatnot and screaming. Or giving Bateman-spiraling-over-a-business-card energy. I’m not against conceal don’t feel type of characters, (eg. the lucys authored by Brontë and Kincaid or one of Shirley Jackson’s girlies), or ones who become fixated or obsessed with someone they are also suspicious of (These Violent Delights by Micah Nemerever, Apartment by Teddy Wayne), but Isabel, who is neither complex nor intriguing enough for me to feel any sort of way towards her, fails to evolve beyond a one-dimensional character. Her contradictions and inner conflicts lack depth and come across as contrived and uninspiring. The promised exploration of her 'forbidden' attraction feels forced and fails to make her a compelling or fleshed-out character. Eva, the object of Isabel’s desire, was even less interesting. Her character consists of a series of thin impressions, making her into a barely-there sort of presence. This is surprising given that she is meant to be the catalyst to Isabel, the reason behind the ‘unravelling’ of her studied outer self. We are probably meant to find Eva to be the more approachable character, but I found her for the most part to be forgettable, although occasionally she did strike me as irritating. Her hidden agenda felt disappointingly moviesque, especially the way her backstory is presented to us…it was very giving historical melodrama, which may work for many, but does zilch for me.
The novel initially promises to be something more in the realm of psychological suspense, a story where we follow the type of character that is rather off-putting. Isabel is unyielding, rather misanthropic, and believes herself to be the subject of many slights. I was fine with her being this type of character, after all, two of my favorite novels are Giovanni’s Room and Madame Bovary, both of which focus on morally reprehensible characters…but then along the way Isabel’s arc ends up being surprisingly sentimental.
There were so many scenes in The Safekeep that should have made me feel a certain degree of something but I just didn’t buy into them. Supposedly charged moments and tense discussions didn’t land, often because they seemed overly dramatic in a way that felt unearned, forced even. I didn’t buy into Isabel’s obsession with Eva, mostly because Eva is for the most part portrayed as very wishy-washy. I’m not against narratives where one character is projecting their feelings onto another character, or letting their paranoia tinge their understanding of another person (their personality, their ‘true’ motivations), or where the central relationship is very much push/pull, but here...the supposed tension, or chemistry, between these two women felt simultaneously rushed and overdone. I would have preferred more of a slow burner, but they go from nothing to 100% in a way that took away from the novel’s initial atmosphere of ambivalence. I was surprised by how banal the plot was. The main characters were dramatic in a way that brought to mind The World Cannot Give by Tara Isabella Burton, a novel I don’t care for in the slightest. The side characters were very one-note, and Isabel’s brother's story was presented to us in a way that made me think of so many period dramas (in other words, cliched).
It’s frustrating because van der Wouden’s writing is top-notch and those first chapters were very absorbing. Her descriptions of the house and its contents, as well as the way she describes the characters’ expressions and body language, were very well done. Her writing style exudes a cool, polished quality reminiscent of Barbara Vine, Sarah Waters, and Magda Szabó. On paper, The Safekeep explores compelling themes. Against the backdrop of the 1960s, the narrative has the opportunity to unveil the societal expectations and constraints placed on women. Isabel's adherence to conservative values leads her to perceive her burgeoning attraction to Eva as morally 'wrong.' Additionally, her prejudices extend to those outside her racial, cultural, and class spheres. The novel does allow us to see how Isabel's narrow mindset becomes a self-imposed trap, hindering her from experiencing true fulfillment, living in the shadow of her mother and resentful of her brothers' freedom. The central themes of inherited guilt and reparations are also pivotal to the narrative. However, the way these issues are handled struck me as somewhat schematic, leaning towards a simplistic and moralizing tone.
Alas, the novel’s initial tense atmosphere just...fizzles out. I’m all for books where fraught character dynamics are at the centre stage, but here Isabel and Eva lacked substance, consequently, their friction and their developing relationship left me feeling very uninvolved. Maybe the reason I was so unbothered by this novel is that I read it not long after reading Winter Love, an overlooked lesbian classic narrated by someone not that dissimilar from Isabel herself (Han Suyin's narrator is aloof, unpleasant even) who embarks into a love affair with a married woman. Or I just have come across this type of dynamic and atmosphere in several other novels (Sweet Days of Discipline by Fleur Jaeggy, The Inseparables by Simone de Beauvoir, and Passing by Nella Larsen, Belladonna by Anbara Salam, books by Danzy Senna, Patricia Highsmith). van der Wouden's is a clearly talented writer, it's a pity that her novel falls victim to a lacklustre execution.
Still, in spite of my negative review, I encourage prospective readers to give van der Wouden's debut a shot. I may have simply been unable to enjoy it due to my overexposure to this type of genre. If you liked Claire Fuller's Bitter Orange or Ian McEwan's Atonement, or if you happen to enjoy the historical fiction penned by authors like Rose Tremain, there's a good chance you will find van der Wouden's debut to be a satisfying reading experience.
i keep taking this off my tbr and then adding it back 2 months later until i finally decreed it there to stay.
good call.
someone in the comments told me that this book is best read in a day or two. unfortunately i was reading 6 other books at the time, as is my wont as an unhinged person, but.
they were right, and i did read it in three.
these characters, hard to like and complex, interested me right away, as did this breathlessly close writing and suffocating plot. but it wasn't until i got two-thirds of the way through (and on the third day) that i found myself unable to put this book down.
this manages to be that rare thing of an excellent, tight story and thematic riches.
that does mean its first half drags, lulling its reader, but it's a trade i'll take.
An exhilarating, twisted tale of desire, suspicion, and obsession between two women staying in the same house in the Dutch countryside during the summer of 1961—a powerful exploration of the legacy of WWII and the darker parts of our collective past.
A house is a precious thing...
This was a deliciously riveting piece of fiction involving a woman named Isabel who is desperately attached to her familial country house. It will one day belong to her brother Louis, who has not yet settled down and prefers city living. Her other brother Hendrik lives with his significant other Sebastian in city digs as well. But this house, with its prized contents like the dinner plates adorned with hares- is everything to Isabel. Louis seems to dither from girlfriend to girlfriend, but now he's shacking up with Eva. When he's called away for a business trip it's proposed that Eva stay in the country house with Isabel- to her horror and disgust. However, Eva has a strong, direct, charismatic personality that challenges Isabel and leads to unexpected consequences and intimacy. This taut, languidly unfolding tale had me in the palm of its hand and is quite possibly the best piece of fiction I've read this year.
Thank you to the publisher Avid Reader Press / Simon & Schuster for providing an advance reader copy via NetGalley.
Now Winner of the Women's Prize for Fiction 2025 Nominated for the Dylan Thomas Prize 2025 Shortlisted for the Booker Prize 2024 The first Dutch author to be longlisted for the Booker, van der Wouden gives us a somewhat traditionally told story with a twist ending that you see coming from a mile away, but the deep empathy for her characters and the fact that this is a story about the aftermath of World War II told from a perspective I have never read before have won me over: This debut novel about a stolen home might not be the most aesthetically daring feat to ever make it on the Booker list, but it's a page turner with complex queer characters about an important issue, which is a lot more than we can say about many Booker nominees in recent years.
With the historic theme of dispossession, van der Wouden pairs the psychological theme of repression: Our protagonist is Isabel, a lonely young woman with obsessive-compulsive traits who struggles to connect with other people. It's 1961, and after the death of her parents, she lives alone in a remote house, while her gay brother Hendrik has made a home with his half-Algerian boyfriend Sebastian and her second brother Louis spends his days in the big city womanizing. When Louis asks Isabel to let his latest romantic, no, rather: sexual interest, Eva, an apparently rather poor girl, stay at the family home with Isabel while he is abroad for business, Isabel has no choice but to agree: The house officially belongs to her uncle, and it is promised to Louis, she is only tolerated there as long as her brother agrees. What then ensues is a chamber play revolving around personal memories, historic guilt and submerged emotions coming to the surface.
All of this is very well plotted, and I liked how the author employs her two main symbols, the pear that you can also see on the cover (hello, peach in Call Me By Your Name) and the hare that appears in different contexts. I greatly enjoyed how she constructed those believable, damaged, messy characters, and how the story never plays its heavy historic content in a cheap, melodramatic way. There are also quite some sex scenes in here, which, as all of us Haruki Murakami stans are painfully aware, is a challenging subject to pull off even for the best (Garth Greenwell is still the contemporary GOAT in this category).
So a well-deserved entry on the Booker list, and I applaud the judges for taking a closer look at authors writing in English, but hailing from outside the English-speaking world.
So… wow.. what a book, can’t believe it’s the author’s debut! I went in blind and… woah… I am going to leave you with a wonderful review from Tudor Queen, as it is amazing..
I am an outlier on this one. The writing is excellent as is the very creative plot. This is a subject that I have not read before. The author does an outstanding job with character development and descriptions in addition to the many current topics she includes. A women manipulates members of a family so that she can move into the house where only the daughter lives, alone. What's holding me back on the rating is the explicit sex scenes which are intense and detailed. The more I tried to rate this, the more unbalanced it became. I'm no prude and certainly far from a Saint, yet the depth of descriptions and details regarding these scenes seemed to take over, similar to a disruption of where the plot was going. Did it take away from that plot- I think it did for me. The ending was terrific, but not enough for my scale so I chose not to rate it at all. In discussion with friends, the details of sex seem to be the first comments they made. Not sure those scenes were meant as support for the book. There was a fleeting moment I thought the length of these scenes may be filler. One would never assume this was the authors debut book. I wish her nothing but success and look forward to her next.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.25 a gut punch of a novel and a love story to literature, this was so beautiful and got such a visceral reaction from me (the ending especially)! would highly highly recommend
I feel punched in the gut. This story unlocked something slumbering in me like in a deja vu. The nostalgia, the Dutch culture seeping off the page, the silence and suffocating tension. The confused longing for someone you are supposed to despise. All of it so vivid, so real - shedding light on a devastating part of Dutch history they did not teach us anything about in school
The first Dutch author ever nominated for the Booker Prize 2024, and shortlisted! Winner of the Women's Prize for Fiction 2025 An assured debut novel, about guilt, secrets from the past and hiding away identity during the 1960s in the Dutch province You will be nice to her? I will be nothing to her.
Despite the plot twist/central mystery being very obvious, I liked The Safekeep. Isabel, uptight and sheltered away in her villa in Zwolle is confronted with an unwanted guest. Louis, her serial dating brother brings a new mysterious woman to a diner. Isabel herself as a woman in the early 60s has little agency, especially with her parents dead and her brothers living in The Hague or abroad, which translates to her severe attachment to her house where she has some semblance of control. Events escalate but the conclusion is surprisingly parsimonious.
Intimacy (or lack of being able to accept it rather), repression in various ways, and possession (What’s the point of having good things if you can’t touch them?, including paranoia on losing stuff come back as recurring themes. For a debut this was a quite sweeping read, even though the monicker of thriller would be wrong, with the neurotic (and quite rude) initial behaviour of Isabel, and the reader being able to better understand her throughout the book as a highlight. At times I did wonder what the attraction of Isabel would be to anyone, but the pear scene is a masterfully written real turning point, and almost as sexy in terms of visualising sexual awakening as the peach scene in Call Me By Your Name.
Also the story line of Hendrik, a brother who has almost the same name as I do, was touching, as it comments on erasure of identity. Overall the history touched upon in the novel is important and sobering, especially when The Netherlands is compared to other West-European countries.
Quotes: Does nothing bring you joy Isabel?
Why are you so determined to dislike me? Will you ever tell me anything Isabel?
First of all, the aesthetics and romantic setting of this book was very reminiscent of Call Me By Your Name- we’re talking hazy, dreamy, summertime vibes. The world was brought to life and captured like a Monet painting, with blurry beautiful descriptions that felt like art.
Then it got verrryyyy sexy- which I wasn’t expecting actually lol. The romance itself felt so honest and beautiful and fragile. It held an air of tragedy in it and I was constantly holding my breath in anticipation of it possibly ending at any moment.
And then there was a twist. 😦 And then there was ANOTHER twist. 😧
I was NOT expecting this to be such an emotional and stunning read.
Ultimately, the story seems to be about home in all of it’s forms and asks us: what makes a house a home, what memories do our homes hold, who does a home really belong to, and also can a person become your home when you fall in love? It’s also about how people can surprise you- sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse.
Beautiful. Stunning. Moving. Romantic as hell. Five stars and will be reading anything else the author writes in the future. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
A novel of post-war Holland that isn't quite sure what it wants to be. It is not a thriller or a novel of psychological suspense, so you can totally disregard the marketing. It's also not a Sarah Waters comp except that it's a historical sapphic novel.
There is a kind of book that turns into something else where it makes you realize there was a whole extra layer of depth in what you already read. Then there is this kind, where it just feels like you spent all this time reading the less interesting story instead of the good one you didn't know about.
I was enjoying myself before the book decided it was a different book. Though there were issues. It's not that Isabel is unlikable. She's eccentric, likely these days we'd say neurodivergent, and she likes things the way she likes them. She doesn't like Eva, her brother's new girlfriend who is staying in her house for a few weeks. With the Sarah Waters comp I knew that something would happen between Isabel and Eva but I was confused. Why would Eva have any interest in Isabel? Even if she found her attractive, Isabel is so cruel to Eva that it doesn't make much sense. And even when the book tries to explain it later it still doesn't actually make sense. It irked me. Though at least the sex scenes were nice.
Van der Wouden has chosen to tell her story in this very specific framework when it probably would have been better without the tricks if it had been told in a more straightforward manner. At least then I would feel like I was able to take in what she wants to say all along the way instead of feeling like a moral got tacked on at the end of the story.
Completely breathtaking. It starts out being one kind of story and it's so good, and then it goes somewhere so unexpected and becomes something else entirely and it's just astonishing. The characters and their journeys are so rich and the sense of longing throughout is powerful - not only romantic and sexual longing (which is abundant and beautiful) but bone-deep hunger for safety, home, belonging, justice - the way that desire, especially queer desire, is also an ache for belonging - the way that revenge, reparative justice, redemption is a longing for things to be as they should be, for things to be as right as being home is right - it's all so much and I feel changed having read it. I was continually amazed at the writing even at the level of the sentence. It's so lush and so exact. An incredible feat.
Just absolutely stunning. It feels like such an immense privilege to have read this early - both for my own experience and for getting to know that the world is on the cusp of receiving this absolute gift.
I am reading this Booker longlist at a languid pace but I can almost see the finish line !
This book took me a long time to read, which for a book this size is always a bad sign.
It is entirely possible that reading The Safekeep immediately after All Fours by Miranda July was an ill-timed manoeuvre and a less relationship-focused novel might have been best. I was bored by this mostly which is a lazy critique. It’s more accurate to say Isabel didn’t interest me as a character. The central relationship was mostly a jigsaw of arms and legs, ( at this point I would have welcomed July back to direct things ). My interest was piqued briefly by the diary section and I then I nodded along blissfully to the end. I am a little mystified by the general praise for this, but I bow to other readers who have rated it highly and obviously it’s got a shot at the big prize. Objectively the writing is solid, it contains a very interesting central premise which I won’t spoil here and yet I remain unmoved by the entire experience. Also it’s a problem when I need to keep reminding myself it’s the 1960s and not Victorian England and a slow paced Sarah Waters novel ….
Sometimes books and readers …it just doesn’t work out.
Thank you to the author, Netgalley and Avid Reader Press for an ecopy. This was released May 2024 and shortlisted for the Booker Prize as well as WINNER OF THE NATIONAL JEWISH BOOK AWARD FOR DEBUT FICTION.
Warm thanx to Stacey B, Adina, Brandice, Debra and luce whose reviews I bumped into about this book.
This novel has depth, complexity and tells of a forbidden lesbian love within neurosis, traumata and loss in post war Holland. The psychologies are immensely authentic and deep with emotions that dip and dive into oceanic passion. Complexities of motivations are colored by memories and heartbreaking grief and then illuminated by union, sexual passions and a search for deep symbiosis. Deeply sensual, always astute and terribly upsetting this is a novel that took my breath away again and again and again....and again....
Pfff. Ik kan een heel genuanceerde recensie schrijven, maar ik heb al lang niet meer mijn nachtrust opgeofferd om een boek uit te lezen, dus ik ga gewoon 5 sterren geven.
Non existent – Unseen – not there. No welcome back.
Story of two groups, life between the two, falling in between the cracks, no safety net, no safekeep. A country, a nation, is rarely only made up of one group. Usually, there is more than one, even if the difference between the groups is economic only. In this story, we have the Netherlands, and the two groups mentioned above are the Dutch and the Dutch Jews and what happened during World War Two and the long lingering aftermath.
Reading through some academic papers about why Dutch Jews suffered more than their counterparts in other parts of Europe I saw that one of the reasons is the Dutch tendency to respect rules and authority regardless of who this authority is. After I read this, I saw that van der Wouden does show this in the Dutch narrative and how what she recounts in her story becomes so callously real and possible. Her insistence that 'They must have known' rings so true plus the frustration, anger, and grief felt by Eva so achingly real.
In 1961, a house in rural Netherlands harbors secrets and deceptions that are rooted in the past, propelling its residents on a journey of discovery and reckoning.The journey uncovers the rationalizations and self deceptions that individuals and society use to soothe consciences and obscure intentions.
“ Isabel found a broken piece of ceramic under the roots of a dead gourd…the vegetable garden was shrinking into itself…Isabel was on her knees, gloved hands and a stringed hat, removing dying things.The shard nicked through her glove, pierced a little hole. “ It had once been a plate, which was part of a set—-her mother’s favorite: the good China, for holidays, for guests. “ There was no explanation for the broken piece, for where it had come from and why it had been buried.”
These excerpts from the opening paragraphs introduce Isabel and contain elements of intrigue and thematic symbolism that are present throughout the novel.Isabel has struggled to come to terms with her mother's death.On her sunniest days she is persnickety and judgmental.She is living in her family home although she has no legal claim to the property.The home is promised to her older brother Louis as soon as he weds. Isabel is relegated to a custodial role, channeling her emotional struggles into obsessive possessiveness of the household and its objects. The house has become a protective shield for Isabel, swaddling her in a barrier that repels physical and emotional incursions into the boundaries of her domestic safe space.
The moorings of Isabel's world begin to shift during a luncheon with Louis and her younger brother Hendrick. Louis, a serial womanizer, has brought Eva, the latest object of his affection, to the family luncheon.Eva’s persona is the obverse of all that Isabel holds dear. Eva’s impoverished background does not align with Isabel’s tightly ordered middle class existence. She is brasher and more free in her personal interactions. She is more comfortable in her body and unrestrained in physical expression. Shortly after the luncheon, Louis arrives at the family home and insists that Isabel open the home to Eva for one month while he travels abroad.
Eva’s entry into Isabel’s domain launches the expository and thematic elements of the novel.Within the constricted confines of the house, the two women haltingly circle each other in a dance of suspicion, repulsion and attraction.Their emotional thrusts and parries explore displacement and trauma that is fueled by love, obsession and retribution. Their stories reach back to World War Two and encompass efforts to deal with guilt and avoidance on both personal and societal levels.
The narrative engages one’s interest as these expository and thematic strands develop.However, the novel is not without its flaws. The writing can become slightly disjointed and there is a “ twist” to Eva’s story that becomes obvious well before it is revealed. The storyline vacillates between psychological thriller, erotic love story and historical polemic without smooth synthesis. Ultimately, these flaws are overshadowed by the novel’s strengths.
Throughout there is a recurring thread of reckoning and avoidance that are interwoven on personal and geopolitical levels. The stories of Isabel and Eva are stories of personal and physical awakening stimulated by contact with people and ideas not previously familiar to either protagonist. In this journey, the family home or “ Safekeep” becomes both a silent character and an oxymoronic metaphor. The history of the family home intertwines with the characters’ life arcs and prompts the realization that a home can either protect or oppress. It can protect memories and give comfort while also limiting options and excluding outside influences.Both individuals and societies struggle to balance and manage these conflicting impulses. “The Safekeep” chronicles a journey that poses questions relevant to all sentient beings.
Update : Now longlisted for Women's Prize for Fiction 2025
Shortlisted for 2024 Booker Prize - This debut novel about queer loneliness and love has some of the energy of Ian McEwan's sexually neurotic books. However, don't think of Ian McEwan's most accomplished works. Think of the ones that have already been forgotten, even if they were once Booker favorites. There's also a plot twist with a resolution similar to Damon Galgut's The Promise. So, you could call it promising for a debut novel, or you could say it's too familiar with other works. For a debut, that may not be surprising, but for a book aiming for prizes, it's disappointing. I prefer a little more originality from a new author than a by-the-numbers, conventional book.
I typically take issue with sapphic sex in novels because in my experience, it veers into two boner-killing camps:
1. Hyper-vigilance: Here’s the thing. If you’re lucky enough to tangle with me after a very expensive date, you’d better ask before moving from play to penetration. If I say no—stop. But if I say yes, you don’t need to ask ten more times, or make sure I’m sure that I’m sure, or tell me five different ways you only want to lick me senseless because you respect me so much and I’m the wind beneath your wings, or whatever. This is sex, not an anxiety spiral. If we’ve built something safe, the bedroom can get reckless.
2. Lameness: She entered my core. Lingered at my mound. Stroked my fold. Found my center. Need I say more? Actually, yes. There’s also talk of female happy places smelling of coastal rock pools, which just shrivels my shrimp.
This book’s a different breed of crustacean. The sex is hot—I was surprised by what they reached for, touched next. Of all the positions, the one I can’t shake is a sweaty Isabel fucking her lover’s bare thigh. It’s embarrassing, but it’s also sexy. She’s so turned on, she just mounts the nearest body part and rides herself home. Other options exist, but she can’t wait. I laughed, then rolled over, glad the lights were out.
I should mention this novel also deftly describes the historical intersection of yada yada blah blah…
“What was joy, anyway. What was the worth of happiness that left behind a crater thrice the size of its impact. What did people who spoke of joy know of what it meant, to sleep and dream only of the whistle of planes and knocks at the door and on windows and to wake with a hand at one's throat— one's own hand, at one's own throat. What did they know of not speaking for days, of not having known the touch of another, never having known, of want and of not having felt the press of skin to one's own, and what did they know of a house that only ever emptied out. Of animals dying and fathers dying and mothers dying and finding bullet holes in the barks of trees right below hearts carved around names of people who weren't there and the bloody lip of a sibling and what did what did she know—“
Humans are probably the only mammals who get to *choose* what they know. What they know of others, what they know of themselves.
The only mammals to choose what to see, who to see, what they are *willing* to see or pretend they didn’t see. Especially in the name of safety.
Humans also do that very well collectively. Shockingly well. This choosing. This repression. This inhibition.
But the deeper you submerge an object under water, the more forcefully it will push its way back to the surface, in a surge of bubbles and a violent gathering of energy. A tightened fist opening, one finger at a time.
This electrifying debut novel is an ode to all these things, all at once. An opening. A revelation. An integration.
It felt like Claire Keegan had a few too many drinks and decided to write a novel. The love child of “Portrait of a Lady on Fire” and “The Postcard”. Henry James, but with no restraint. Carl Jung meets “Atonement”.
“The Safekeep” is a quiet flame. The lightning that lights up the entire room, without making a sound, and leaves you counting down the seconds until the detonation.
I liked this, but I would have liked it better if it had been more balanced. So much time is spent building up one side of the story/POV and it felt like not enough was spent on the second POV. That person's motivations, emotions, history could have been fleshed out in a more convincing way as well, but really, so could POV #1 and the various other side characters. You don't really know them as deeply as you should, there are emotions described but not really felt.
I'm also not sure if Isabel was meant to be portrayed as neurodivergent?
It's an interesting story, though, with shades of Fingersmith lite and a setting/feel/dynamic similar to that of the hushed, frenzied, forbidden relationship in Sister, My Sister (and a teeny bit of another film, but it's spoilery). But it's not quite as deep or complex or polished as either.
3.5 stars
Audio Notes: Very good on audio, with narration by Stina Nielsen and Saskia Maarleveld.
In her debut novel, The Safekeep, Yael Van Der Wouden crafts an evocative and atmospheric narrative that immediately pulled me in. The writing is lush, with a strong sense of place that gives the story an intense quality. I found she excelled at setting a mood, creating a world that feels both intimate and unsettling in the best way. The prose shines and immerses you in the quiet tensions and small mysteries that permeate the book.
However, while the style and tone are undoubtedly strong, the plot and pacing left something to be desired. The narrative unfolded in a way that felt a bit too neat, with a structure that follows a predictable rhythm. The third-act twist, while well-written, didn’t deliver the impact I was hoping for, as it was hinted at heavily throughout the story and lacked a surprising or subversive element.
Overall, The Safekeep is a solid read with beautiful writing and a haunting atmosphere. If you enjoy books that focus on mood and setting over intricate plot developments, this one might work better for you. Despite the tidy execution, it’s a well-crafted novel that would appeal to readers looking for a more atmospheric literary experience. I don't expect it to win the Booker Prize, but I am glad they nominated her, especially as a debut novelist, and am interested in seeing what she comes out with next.
I struggled with this book and judging by other reviews, I’m in the minority. Not alone, but in the minority. The story felt extremely slow and much longer than 272 pages. The characters didn’t appeal to me and nothing much happened for quite a while. The publisher’s blurb calls it “An exhilarating, twisted tale of desire, suspicion, and obsession between two women staying in the same house in the Dutch countryside during the summer of 1961—a powerful exploration of the legacy of WWII and the darker parts of our collective past.” For me it was definitely not exhilarating. And it wasn’t all that twisted either. I saw the “twist” coming from a mile away, so there was zero suspense for me in that regard
The relationship between Isabel and Eva turned from dislike to obsession way too suddenly. I didn’t buy it. And the multiple explicit sex scenes added nothing to the story. I wish more time and space had been spent on Eva’s backstory, which is an important one.
Thank you to Avid Reader Press/Simon & Schuster and NetGalley for the opportunity to read a review copy of this book. All opinions are my own.
[4.5] No stop it right now!!!! I was not expecting to love this so much. It felt like it crept up on me. The beginning actually had me feeling nervous and almost sad for our fmc, then something happened…I kind of didn’t want to read it because it had an overarching way of making me feel somewhat macabre, yet with the two women this follows and their relationship I just simply couldn’t put it down one it got going. Amazing. So close to five stars!!
A house holds secrets, quietly breathing life into closed memories until those memories open like buds to a breaking dawn and the sunlight that seeps into the darkest corners sets the world on fire.
In 1961, the Netherlands is primly cleaning up the remnants of war. Isabel, nearly thirty, lives alone in the provincial countryside in a home her family was quickly shuttled into during the war's tumult, purchased fully furnished by a benevolent and resourceful relative. Her younger brother, Hendrik, is anticipating a move to Paris with his lover. The eldest, Louis, shuffles girlfriends like a deck of cards, discarding one after the other. The house is his to inherit when he decides to settle down. In the meantime, Isabel clings to its very foundations, praying not to be dislodged. When Louis installs his latest girlfriend in the bedroom of the siblings' late mother while he takes an extended business trip abroad, Isabel's solitude is shattered.
The girlfriend, Eva, disturbs the peace with an electric intensity. She is inquisitive and insistent, cheap with her frizzy bleached hair and loud red lipstick. She clings to Isabel, who rebuffs her with snide and cutting asides.
Then tiny things begin disappearing: a teaspoon, a thimble. Isabel suspects the maid who comes in nearly everyday to cook and clean, but she also questions her own sanity, and the fickleness of memory.
Quiet tension underlies every breath of this exquisite psychological thriller. Yael van der Wouden explores the legacy of Holland's participation in the ethnic cleansing of Jews in the thirties and forties through the eyes of a young woman singularly bent on revenge. Her writing is taut and understated, except when writing of the body's most secret and deepest pleasures, when it becomes lush and visceral. This is also the story of discovery of desire, of self, and of the redemptive possibilities of love.
A stunning debut from a gifted and generous writer. Highly recommended.
This went in such an unexpected and poignant direction. I loved it. It’s 1961 and lonely and isolated Isabel lives in the Dutch countryside in the house her mother had loved, surrounded by her treasured possessions. Her brother brings his girlfriend, Eva to stay while he is away on a work trip. There is a lot of tension between the two women until things gradually change, and family histories and plans for revenge are revealed.
Readers complain mostly about two things in this book. One is a gripe about gratuitous sex. So, depending on what you think is sexy, chapter 10 may be hot or not. The other is that the big twist was no surprise, the reader had figured it out. But I think the author purposely dropped clues like acid rain along the way, luring us to follow her lead. We weren’t reading in order to solve the mystery; rather, we came as voyeurs, or, if lucky, we twinned with the characters as the truth is revealed. One character’s truth is the other’s harrowing discovery. This is the first novel I’ve ever read that covered this little-known persecution of Jews that extends to beyond the Holocaust.
Still, I gave it four stars. I was deeply absorbed in the narrative but I did think the conversations/dialogue contained too many ellipses that seems written for cinema rather than a book. It may be realistic, as people often talk over each other--or drop words, thoughts-- or mumble something incomprehensible, but it gets tedious for me as reader. Give it to me on the screen, but “mumblecore” in serious, historical novels pauses the pace. A few scenes were also a bit flat and repetitive, at least until later, when it makes more sense.
Isabel and Eva are total opposites, diametrically opposed in numerous ways. Isabel is a control freak that has nothing for herself except the family house, which she keeps tidy (while, inside herself she’s a mess). Even the house isn’t really hers. She is safekeeping it, essentially. Parents have died and the house in the rural Netherlands countryside is left to oldest brother, Louis, who would rather be in the city living the playboy life, one girlfriend after another.
Louis asks Isabel if his current lover can stay at the house while he’s out of town. Eva, a spicy spitfire of a young woman with little filter on her thought-to-speech conduit, is judged harshly by Isabel. Isabel is repressed and tightly wound, with a habit of pinching the skin on the back of her hand. She inwardly criticizes Eva’s bottle blonde hair and flirty clothing as cheap and low class. To Isabel, Eva’s restless and chatty behaviors are like “a bee stuck in a room with all the windows shut.”
Some of the best parts of the book are not even on the page. Rather, it is in the interpretation of the interlocking pieces of plot and character. Dig to the core and you mine family secrets and hidden cruelties. A cracked, buried plate means multitudes, a diary contains horrors, the eating of a pear exposes concealed appetites. You could design an entire classroom study on this book, but does it appeal to a non-academic reader? Yes, it is visceral, revealing, sexy, and bottomless. It read as noir-ish, with a heavy cloak of dread hovering above the narrative. Hope and redemption are in the air, too. Hunger pervades the story, hunger of many tastes.
Isabel “had held a pear in her hand and she had eaten it skin and all. She had eaten the stem and she has eaten its seeds and she had eaten its core, and the hunger still sat in her like an open maw.”
AS A GIRLS GIRL, I STRUGGLED TO IDENTIFY WITH ISABEL BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE NOT INSTANTLY INLOVE AND OBSESSED WITH EVERY FEMALE THAT YOU MEET, SEE, INTERACT WITH, SEE FROM AFAR, WATCH JUST EXISTING, OR MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH?????????????
I HELD OUT SO MUCH HOPE FOR THE ISABEL PERSONAL DEVELOPMENT ARC.......
Because nothing says ✨REDEMPTION ARC✨ like having the most ASS rotten MC who's a rude, mean, destructive, all-round hateful, lonely, sad, spiteful little bitch.... Turn into the sunshine/secret smile/mentally changed/sees the error of her ways now-kind of character…
(spoiler: it never happens)
She's such a fucking spud until the end.
I understand she was battling her inner 'I'm a lesbian to my core and dont want to face it" demons, but GURL, I WAITED THE WHOLE BOOK FOR ANY KIND OF REDEEMING FACTOR........... Big nope on that front my friends.
ALL THIS BOOK ACHIEVED WAS BEING 10/10 BEAUTIFUL AND BY THE END I HATED BOTH WOMEN. (this is kinda why it was an incredible book because I was invested in 2 humans that I didn't even like)
It reads like a whimsical, artsy, indie film, with beautiful cinematic head cinema visuals.
European, Sapphic romance, deceit & lies, mystery, hurt, sensual & spicy goodness, girlypops kissing in dark hallways...
STUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNING, even if everyone was kinda a cunt. Now gtfo of the way Isabel and Eva give me the brothers queer story, like yesterday.
"There isn't a version of me that could have looked away from you"