The Safekeep by Yael van der Wouden Review

Dive into our comprehensive review of The Safekeep by Yael van der Wouden, a standout debut novel shortlisted for the 2024 Booker Prize. Set in 1961 Netherlands, this evocative blend of psychological thriller, historical drama, and queer romance explores the lingering scars of World War II through the life of Isabel, a reclusive woman whose world unravels with the arrival of Eva, her brother’s enigmatic girlfriend. Our review delves into van der Wouden’s atmospheric prose, complex characters, and incisive critique of Dutch wartime complicity, highlighting the novel’s emotional depth and lyrical beauty. Perfect for readers of literary fiction, historical narratives, or queer stories, this analysis uncovers why The Safekeep is must-read. Discover its themes of desire, trauma, and redemption, and see why it’s a powerful addition to contemporary literature. Join the conversation and explore this haunting tale today!

BOOKS REVIEW

Chaifry

6/9/20256 min read

The Safekeep by Yael van der Wouden

Yael van der Wouden’s debut novel, The Safekeep, published in 2024, has captivated readers with its intricate blend of psychological thriller, historical drama, and queer romance. Set in the Netherlands in 1961, the novel delves into the enduring wounds of World War II, exploring themes of trauma, desire, and historical reckoning through a deeply personal narrative. Van der Wouden, a Dutch writer and teacher, infuses the story with a perspective shaped by her exploration of Dutch-Jewish identity, bringing a nuanced lens to the complexities of post-war society. The narrative centers on Isabel, a reclusive woman whose meticulously ordered life in her late mother’s provincial home is disrupted by Eva, her brother’s enigmatic girlfriend, leading to revelations about love, loss, and buried truths. This review argues that The Safekeep is a luminous debut, distinguished by its atmospheric prose, complex character development, and incisive critique of historical complicity, though its pacing and resolution may not fully satisfy all readers. By examining the novel’s thematic depth and narrative craft, this analysis seeks to illuminate its status as a significant literary achievement.

The Safekeep unfolds in the Dutch countryside in 1961, where Isabel, a woman in her late twenties, lives a solitary existence in her family’s country home, a space filled with her late mother’s cherished possessions—plates adorned with leaping hares, polished silverware, and delicate china. Isabel’s life is governed by routine and an obsessive need to maintain order, cataloging every item as a way to anchor herself to the past. This fragile equilibrium is shattered when her brother Louis, a charming but unreliable figure, leaves his new girlfriend, Eva, to stay with Isabel for the summer while he travels for work. Eva is Isabel’s antithesis: brash, carefree, and careless with the house’s treasured objects. When small items—a spoon, a knife, a bowl—begin to vanish, Isabel’s suspicion of Eva spirals into an all-consuming obsession, which unexpectedly evolves into a complex attraction. This shifting relationship becomes the catalyst for uncovering secrets about the house’s wartime history, revealing its connection to a Jewish family displaced during the Holocaust and exposing broader societal complicity in wartime atrocities.

The novel weaves together several key themes: the lingering legacy of war, the repression and awakening of queer desire, the burden of inherited guilt, and the tension between memory and oblivion. The house serves as a central metaphor, embodying both Isabel’s personal stagnation and the suppressed truths of her family’s past. As Isabel and Eva’s relationship moves from hostility to intimacy, the narrative explores Isabel’s sexual awakening, challenging her self-imposed isolation. The climactic revelation about the house’s wartime ownership forces Isabel to confront her family’s role in perpetuating injustice, reframing her attachment to the home as an act of unwitting complicity.

Four quotes from The Safekeep capture its emotional depth and thematic richness:

  1. “She belonged to the house in the sense that she had nothing else, no other life than the house.” (p. 17)
    This line establishes Isabel’s profound isolation, tying her identity to the physical space of the house.

  2. “How quickly did the belly of despair turn itself over into hope, the give of the skin of overripe fruit.” (p. 132)
    This sensual metaphor marks the pivotal moment when Isabel’s resentment toward Eva transforms into desire, encapsulating the novel’s exploration of emotional volatility.

  3. “The canals had frozen over. Isabel tested one with her foot and found it solid, and then stood on it in wonder; a miracle, she thought, to stand so solidly on what could also engulf you.” (p. 245)
    This evocative image symbolizes Isabel’s precarious emotional state, balancing between revelation and vulnerability.

  4. “If they cared about it, they would have come back for it.” (p. 189)
    Spoken by a character rationalizing the appropriation of Jewish belongings, this chilling statement underscores the moral callousness that enabled post-war dispossession.

These quotes reflect van der Wouden’s ability to blend lyrical prose with sharp historical critique, anchoring the novel’s exploration of personal and collective trauma.

The Safekeep is a remarkable debut, distinguished by its atmospheric intensity, complex character development, and bold engagement with history. Van der Wouden’s prose is a standout feature, striking a delicate balance between restraint and sensuality. The novel’s opening chapters create a claustrophobic mood, with Isabel’s obsessive cataloging of household items—down to the exact number of forks—mirroring her need for control in a life marked by loss. Isabel is a compelling protagonist, her internal struggles externalized through subtle gestures, such as pinching the skin on the back of her hand during moments of anxiety, a recurring motif that grounds her psychological complexity in physical reality. This vivid characterization makes Isabel both relatable and unsettling, drawing readers into her tightly wound world.

The novel’s exploration of queer desire is handled with a boldness that sets it apart. The evolving relationship between Isabel and Eva, marked by tension and eventual intimacy, is rendered with visceral intensity. The line “How quickly did the belly of despair turn itself over into hope, the give of the skin of overripe fruit” captures this shift with poetic precision, evoking the tactile and emotional transformation of Isabel’s awakening (p. 132). These scenes are not merely romantic but serve as a vehicle for exploring repression and liberation, as Isabel’s desire forces her to confront her self-imposed isolation. The narrative’s ability to weave this personal awakening into a broader historical critique is one of its greatest strengths.

Van der Wouden’s engagement with the Netherlands’ wartime history is equally compelling, particularly her critique of Dutch complicity in the Holocaust. The revelation that the house was appropriated from a Jewish family during the war is a pivotal moment, reframing Isabel’s devotion to it as an act of inherited guilt. The chilling quote “If they cared about it, they would have come back for it” encapsulates the moral indifference that facilitated such dispossession, lending the novel a layer of moral urgency (p. 189). The house itself becomes a character, its history unfolding alongside Isabel’s personal reckoning, a structural choice that deepens the narrative with each chapter. The metaphor of the frozen canal—“a miracle, to stand so solidly on what could also engulf you”—is a masterstroke, encapsulating the precarious balance between stability and collapse in both Isabel’s psyche and the house’s history (p. 245).

The novel’s structure is meticulously crafted, with a slow-burning pace that builds tension and allows readers to inhabit Isabel’s paranoia and gradual self-discovery. Van der Wouden’s ability to balance multiple genres—psychological thriller, historical fiction, and romance—demonstrates her versatility as a debut novelist. The narrative’s gradual unfolding, with each revelation building on the last, creates a sense of inevitability that is both haunting and satisfying. The interplay of personal and historical narratives is enriched by van der Wouden’s exploration of Dutch-Jewish identity, adding depth to the novel’s thematic ambitions.

However, The Safekeep is not without flaws. Its deliberate pacing, while effective in building atmosphere, can feel sluggish, particularly in the first half. Some readers may find the early sections overly focused on mood, with the plot taking time to gain momentum. The central plot twist, while emotionally weighty, is heavily foreshadowed by the recurring motif of missing objects—a spoon, a knife, a bowl—which points too clearly to Eva’s role, reducing the suspense for attentive readers. This predictability may diminish the thriller element for those expecting more surprise.

The resolution is another point of contention, with some finding it overly optimistic. Isabel’s decision to confront her family’s past and embrace her relationship with Eva, while redemptive, risks simplifying the complex historical and personal wounds the novel unearths. The conclusion’s upbeat tone may feel at odds with the narrative’s earlier darkness, potentially alienating readers who prefer ambiguity or a more unflinching engagement with trauma. Additionally, the novel’s focus on Isabel and Eva leaves secondary characters, such as Isabel’s brother Hendrik and his partner Sebastian, underdeveloped. Their subplot, which touches on Hendrik’s life as a gay man in 1960s Netherlands, is intriguing but lacks depth, representing a missed opportunity to broaden the narrative’s scope.

Despite these shortcomings, The Safekeep remains a formidable achievement. Its ability to weave together personal and historical narratives while delivering a searing critique of complicity is remarkable. The novel’s exploration of the Netherlands’ failure to fully reckon with its wartime actions, combined with van der Wouden’s lyrical prose and emotional depth, elevates it beyond a mere character study. The vivid imagery and complex characters ensure that the novel lingers in the reader’s mind, a testament to van der Wouden’s skill as a storyteller.

Yael van der Wouden’s The Safekeep is a haunting and beautifully crafted debut that weaves together personal and historical narratives with remarkable skill. Its atmospheric prose, complex protagonist, and bold exploration of queer desire and wartime guilt make it a standout in contemporary literature. While its slow pacing, predictable twist, and somewhat tidy resolution may not satisfy all readers, these flaws are overshadowed by its emotional depth and intellectual ambition. The novel’s ability to evoke both personal and collective reckoning, as seen in lines like standing on a frozen canal or the callous dismissal of displaced belongings, leaves a lasting impact. The Safekeep is highly recommended for readers who savor character-driven narratives, historical fiction with a moral edge, or queer stories that challenge conventional boundaries. It is particularly suited for those interested in post-war European history or the intersections of identity and memory. Book clubs will find rich material in its layered themes, from complicity to redemption, making it a catalyst for meaningful discussion. Van der Wouden’s debut heralds the arrival of a bold new voice, and readers will close the book with anticipation for her future work.

References: Wouden, Y. v. d. (2024). The safekeep: a novel. Penguin Random House Ireland Limited