Evie Wyld’s previous novel, The Bass Rock, was a disturbing, cunningly constructed triptych on the theme of violent misogyny as seen through the eyes of characters including a gaslit 1950s housewife and a girl on the run from 18th-century witch hunters. Rapturously reviewed, it won the Stella prize in Australia (where Wyld, a Londoner, grew up), yet I can’t help feel it didn’t quite get the renown it deserves – no UK award nominations – perhaps because it had the misfortune to be published in March 2020, three days into lockdown, when simpler distraction was wanted?
In The Echoes, her fourth novel, darkness lies below the surface. At heart, the story is one of everyday strife involving a thirtysomething London couple, as Hannah, a barmaid, and Max, a creative writing lecturer, find their relationship strained by whether they’ll marry and have children. The unvoiced tension finds an outlet in bickering about why, after six years together, she hasn’t introduced him to her family in Australia. She tells him they’re boring, and says something else vague about a tragic road accident, but the novel shows that the truth is more complicated – her past being one of many things Hannah is keeping to herself, not least the abortion she’s just had.
