Helm is more a cabinet of curiosities than a novel
Book review: Helm by Sarah Hall
“Helm isn’t feeling Helmself.” And it’s thanks to humans – or “up-monkeys,” as Helm calls them. Human waste pollutes the air: “burger wrappers, testicle deodorant, lip plumpers.” It feels “insidious, sneaky, infectious,” like a “toxic waft when you’re asleep.” Honestly, all of it has Helm feeling a bit under the weather.
Who is Helm? Helm is the weather – or part of it. Sarah Hall’s latest, Helm: An Extraordinary History of a Ferocious Wind from Neolithic Times and the Connection Between Nature and People, is narrated by Britain’s only named wind.
Helm has blown over Neanderthals, medieval pilgrims, wars, geological surveys, and everything in between. At times, Helm sounds wise and poetic. At others, they make fart jokes and “[blow] eggs back up hens’ tusses.” Their voice is intoxicating, and that kept me hooked for a bit. But, despite the ambitious concept and stunning prose, Helm ultimately disappoints. The experimental structure comes at a cost: the human characters who should ground this epic never come to life.
Hall’s command of language is virtuosic and has earned its laurels. Lists of items lost to the wind convey the sheer length of human evolution: “Howdah pistol, iron skullcap, Apple iPhone 11 64GB, Tornado F3 series, eject pin.” I was delighted when these reappeared later. Rain doesn’t just patter, it “[hisses] like soft glass.”
The text sparkles with aphorisms that beg to be highlighted.
“For no creature is ugly in this world… there is nothing wicked or sick or ugly, when it is loved.”
Beautiful stuff. Hall clearly has the skills for this ambitious project. However, it falters: for a book about humanity’s relationship with nature, the humans are underdeveloped.
We meet a huge cast of intriguing characters: NaNay, a Neolithic seer with visions of stone monoliths; Michael Lang, a disfigured medieval priest intent on dragging a wooden cross up a mountain to exorcize Helm; and Selima Sutar, a modern scientist studying climate change harassed by skeptics. Each gives us a glimpse of humanity’s evolving relationship with nature, but as characters they lack depth.
In Helm’s expansive experience of time, the human cast feels secondary. This is a shame, given the novel quickly pivots from Helm’s subversive voice to spend the most time with them. They don’t learn, change, develop, or grow.
Take Michael Lang. His will to dominate nature defines him. He views Helm as a demon and aims to drag a heavy wooden cross to the summit to exorcise the wind and reclaim the mountain for God. He struggles physically against the incline. But internally, he remains convinced of his righteousness. No doubt creeps in. There’s no reckoning with his fanaticism. The same is true of NaNay, who pursues a stone monument until her death, never questioning if her visions are worth the cost. Or Selima, who remains locked in paranoia.
Hall freezes her characters in their initial postures. Perhaps she means for humans to feel ephemeral, showing that their lives are “as fast as fireworks.” But spending most of the novel with people we never come to care about makes for exhausting reading. Theyremain symbols of their eras rather than individuals worth following.
Helm is more a cabinet of curiosities than a novel. It’s a collection of ephemera in search of a story. Characters and themes feel underdeveloped, with little payoff beyond appreciation for dazzling prose. This will suffice for some, especially readers who appreciate a fragmentary, non-linear approach. But the execution doesn’t match the ambition. To chart humanity’s relationship with nature across millennia, you need humans we want to follow – and Hall doesn’t give us that.
Helm by Sarah Hall was published Nov. 4, 2025 by Mariner Books.
Chris Greer is the co-owner of Nottawa Cottage Bookstore. He grew up in Creemore and has a degree in English from the University of Toronto.
