James spends much of his time adrift in daydreams, slipping through the cracks of an isolated town that feels too tight around the collar, a home that hums with unspoken difficulty, and a version of himself that’s tolerated but never truly seen. His wandering thoughts are not just about sex, though he is a boy full of restless teenage longing, but about something softer, and more complicated to name. The ache for closeness— to be touched, held, understood, not in grand gestures, but in the gentle silences where loneliness settles in.

Everything in James’s world feels on the verge; of changing, of collapsing, of becoming something else, but the direction is never quite clear. That is, until Luke arrives.

A so-called ‘troubled youth’, Luke comes to work on James’s uncle’s farm after his mother vanishes and his father disappears into silence. Over the shifting seasons, a friendship forms— tentative at first, then close enough to blur the lines James never knew how to draw. That intimacy, the one James has longed for in the half-light of dreams, suddenly feels real, almost within in grasp, if only he could read what lives behind Luke’s eyes.

In his debut novel, written with the quiet, almost suffocating beauty of a poem so many of us once knew how to recite, Seán Hewitt captures the rawness of adolescent desire, the haunting weight of memory, and the ache of an unrequited love that exists in the space between friendship and something more. The loneliness in these pages hums low and constant, stretching across fields, folded into seasons, and lingering somewhere between what you once wanted and what you never quite had.

I wouldn’t be a teenager again for all the money in the world.

The writing was beautiful but I struggled to connect with the characters and overall really felt like I've heard this story before and had connected more closely with other versions of it.

This is a gorgeous book about isolation and connection as we follow a person learning about himself and the world - the good and bad. It reads in a way that feels like poetry. I loved it. Do yourself a favor and get this one. Beautiful.

This book was a beautifully written story of a young man trying to evolve into the person he'd like to be and the challenges presented by his environment, sexuality, and hesitancy to speak for what he desires.

This joins the ranks of books like Shuggie Bain, A Little Life, and The Prettiest Star. Beautiful coming of age stories that absolutely gut you. I'll be thinking about the beautiful writing and the central characters for a very long time.

This book felt like reading poetry. I felt so captivated by the thoughts and feelings of the main character that I discovered and felt things as he did and it made for a lovely, heartbreaking journey.

Thank you to Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group and NetGalley for the ARC

4.5 rounded up to 5
I keep seeing Open, Heaven described as gorgeous, and this truly is a fantastic word to describe it! This is a coming of age story in the north of England that explores identity, the isolation felt by the main character—James—when he comes out, and feelings of love and (sometimes obsession) with another boy in the village. This also explores family responsibilities and I found some of the decisions James made were so stressful and the impact they had were heartbreaking.

I thoroughly enjoyed the writing and found myself highlighting passages to revisit afterwards.

Thank you so much to NetGalley and Knopf for an ARC!

A beautifully written exploration of desire, identity, and self reflection. Readers who enjoy savory, poetic prose and character driven stories will not want to miss this one.

Something about this book felt deeply personal and relatable to me. I found myself highlighting quite after quote that echoed feelings and emotions I’ve felt throughout my life. I cannot wait to read more of Hewitt’s work after this.

“I didn’t know which love I wanted more: the love that consumed me, burned me, that fired my dreams and made me want to give myself up to it, or the love that held me, that had made for me this soft, beautiful cocoon.”

A coming of age story of a young gay man in a small village in Ireland. James is confused, lonely and lost, and meets another young man, Luke. The story is of the year they spend together, their tender growing friendship and James’s unrequited love. It’s a sweet novel, with evocative writing. But, I ultimately found myself a little bored as the plot was meandering and largely nothing happened. It captures the confusion and frustration of late adolescence well.

happy pub day to this gorgeous book <3

the yearning in this one… oh my god. the writing was stunning. I decided to read this while on vacation—which was definitely a mistake since I couldn’t think about or do anything else until I knew how it ended. I finished it right before we were all leaving to go out for the night, and all I wanted was a cathartic cry. It almost physically hurt to read the loneliness and isolation of James’ character. I wish this was a longer book, and I can’t wait to read seán hewitts other work.

Thank you to Seán Hewitt, Knopf, and NetGalley for this advance copy!

When I read All Down Darkness Wide last year, I added Sean Hewitt to my list of auto-buy authors. Every word is deliberate in every sentence - not a single word or letter is out of place. They all come together as a whole lot of spectacular storytelling that is full to the brim with feeling and longing. Open, Heaven was no different for me in terms of reading experience. It filled me with a sense of nostalgia that I can't quite place but that simultaneously feels amazing and painful. I loved it so much and I can't wait to buy a hard copy.

I'm so happy to be alive while authors like Sean Hewitt are writing and sharing their work.

Several of my book friends sang the praises of this book after receiving early copies. I was thrilled to also be able to read this early and am glad to say that my friends didn't let me down (they don't often!).

Open, Heaven is a beautiful coming-of-age novel. Teenaged James has recently come out to his family and classmates. No one in his small town is sure how to react or how to relate to him. James is unsure how to handle these new feelings and withdraws within himself as much as possible. That is, until Luke arrives at a neighboring farm, sent to stay with his relatives for the year. What follows is an aching portrait of James as he falls for Luke and tries to understand what the really means in his life.

James was such a vividly painted character. He was the kind of character that you feel like you can reach through the book and give a hug. Hewitt does an excellent job at portraying the mix of emotions that he feels, from the rush of love to the confusion of it all. James is sometimes a frustrating character, particularly in how selfish he comes off with his younger brother Eddie, but that just made him feel all the more real. Luke is perhaps less dimensional but there are some tender moments with him that really tug at your heartstrings.

The landscape around James is a character in itself. Hewitt is a poet and it shows in the way he writes about nature and the village. There are many lush descriptions of the setting that make you feel like you are right there with James, adding to the emotion of the whole story. I felt like I could see exactly where the story took place and each of the places that James and Luke explore together.

This was a beautiful book. I think it is in line with a lot of other queer coming of age stories that I've read over the last few years. But Hewitt's James' stands out in his portrayal. I will certainly not forget about this character soon.

4.5 stars, rounded up.

“I was never really loving, never really inhabiting my days, because I saw them all as a prelude to something else. I would always have the sense, deep inside me, that there was another world beyond my own.”

I am always most excited to read novels from poets. I look forward to the strengths they inherently bring, the lyricism with which they can describe even the most monotonous of settings, the prose they can use to fill every crevice of a book. Seán Hewitt brings all this in spades to his debut, “Open, Heaven,” weaving a stunning narrative held together with delicious run-on sentences that beg to be cracked open, taken apart slowly.

At the core of it, Open, Heaven is about pain. The pain of growing up feeling different, feeling aloneness, feeling queerness that transcends the mortal form. In meeting and knowing Luke, James feels the exquisite pain of wanting something to the point of utter need, something that feels so necessary to your essence that it hurts you physically to not have it — even when you’re afforded moments so close that you can, quite literally, almost taste it. He moves through (but never beyond) the pain of unknowing, the dark muck of loving someone who can’t love you in quite the same way.

This novel is also a study in isolation, both emotional and physical. He has parents that yield a specific queer-adolescent pain: they don’t shun him for his otherness, but they don’t know how to understand what he’s going through or how to handle it. The fictional setting of Thornsmere gives us a small, relatively empty village that we rarely venture outside of. It provides a sparse backdrop that, while idyllic and beautiful, presents us with further scarcity of connection. Within this town, James is receiving so little of what he needs (intimacy, love, touch) that the smallest notions leave lasting impacts: a hand on his shoulder, a finger pressed into his palm, maintained eye contact.

I was briefly worried about the direction that Open, Heaven might have been going. Certain pieces could have spun off into a completely different genre of book, but instead I believe we were given a perfect ending. The anxiety in the build-up lends itself to the teenage tendency towards exclamation, to heightened emotions and what-ifs in the face of entirely new experiences.

Maybe I’m being melodramatic, but the final 8% of this book might have changed the trajectory of my life. It sent me further into the depths of the existential crisis that is the loss of childhood, through the lens of someone who both wants to move forward from the past, and is stuck in the thick, lethal tar pits of it. And so I have to ask — what is the mortality rate of melancholy? What is the prognosis for a person trapped by no disease, no scheming enemy, but time itself?

Movies and television shows to watch after you read this book: Call Me By Your Name (obviously), Moonlight, Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Sex Education.

Thank you to NetGalley and Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor for sharing an advanced copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

<i>Open, Heaven</i> is a classic coming-of-age story. It follows a gay teenage boy as he grapples with masculinity, desire, and growing up while experiencing his first unrequited love and all of the angst and longing that come along with it.

It takes place over a year in the early 2000s but reads more like the 1980s or even earlier at times (the characters work as <i>milkmen</i>, read <i>magazines</i>, go to <i>discos</i>, walk 6 miles to school, etc.), although it lends it the timelessness of classic stories of boys growing up. There’s the rural setting and the sickly little sibling and the secret spot with a rope swing where all the teens hang out and drink—it’s perfectly by-the-books.

It's strength it in its voice which captures teenage intensity and handles with care the experience of falling in love for the first time. It would have been a life-changer for a high-school me (“Rather than feel angry [...] I only felt the arrival of the inevitable obliteration of my life, which I had been expecting for years” and “Sometimes when I saw [boys] my whole body would fill with a heavy anxiety, a dread that only beauty can bring out, because I was afraid of them and I was drawn to them with an instinctive, overwhelming need.” etc!!! Real!). It’s only because I tend to devour any bildungsroman (especially lgbt+ ones) that I wish this one had broken the mold a bit.

A novel slim in page count but large in heart. Unrequited love written as truthfully as I’ve ever read it. Anyone who has ever felt it, especially gay men, will see bits of themselves in this beautiful novel.

This is a book that brought me back to my youth. Growing up gay and not understanding what it all meantand living in a small town. This beautiful novel by poet Sean Hewitt captures the tender moments of what it like growing up and and having that fiest crush. The fear of does he know and if i say something what will happen? Will it be reciprocated or will anger ensue. To see how the writer carefully opens up the characters emotions without being trite and letting them be who they are with honestly even though it may not be how they truly feel until they get deeper into things. The feelings of loneliness, yearning, love, and heartache are all richly explored. After finishing the novel I wished that I had soemthing like to read when I was young. There were some great books out there but nothing like this. You don't have to be queer to love this book. You will fall in loved with these characters. I promise you that. Thank you to #netgalley and #knopf

Open, Heaven is the debut novel by Irish poet Sean Hewitt. Wonderfully lyrical, set in rural northern England, this lush queer coming-of-age is a tender exploration of the yearning and obsession of first love, rural isolation, and self-acceptance. Our main protagonist, James, is such a lonely character that my heart ached for him. I just wanted to hug him. The rural landscape is eloquently described, and I could feel myself being pulled along on the countryside walks. Open, Heaven is a heartbreaking but delightfully written book, and I look forward to reading more of Sean Hewitt's work.

4.5 rounded up.

*Thank you to NetGalley and Knopf for an eARC in exchange for an honest review.

Daddy issues are powerful among men. (Probably women too, but I have no direct information about that.) People never love you the way you think they do, or should. Teenage is bloody awful to live through, and golden gorgeous once you know what the rest of life is.
Time runs faster backwards. The years–long, arduous, and uncertain when taken one by one–unspool quickly, turning liquid, so one summer becomes a shimmering light that, almost as soon as it appears in the mind, is subsumed into a dark winter, a relapse of blackness that flashes to reveal a face, a fireside, a snow-encrusted garden. And then the garden sends its snow upwards, into the sky, gathers back its fallen leaves, and blooms again in reverse.

This, my olds, is the way reading this book progresses. Imagery, metaphor, simile, all deployed in gorgeous swathes of lushness. Does anything *happen*? ask my Plotters. Does anyone get fucked? ask the Smutleys. What about character growth? wonder the odd (very odd, frankly) straights who accidentally stumble across things I write. (Howdy, both of y'all!)

If you are reading this story with An Agenda (eg, what happens to Daddy, does the kid get his cherry popped), put it down and read something not by a poet. One of those Seán Hewitt decidedly is. I am not a poetry reader. Let go of your pearls, that's far from the first time I've said it. Then I read a line like, "It was like walking through a folk song that afternoon—the blackbirds and the thrushes, the sweetness if the flowers, the boy who I loved, and who might even love me, waiting for me between the trees," and I get all swoony and wander around smiling (scared my roommate to death, he thought I was having another stroke) and vow to read more poetry.

I'm better now.

So we're clear: You're here for the writing, not the first-love-coming-of-age story. It is lovely writing indeed. I honestly never once thought about how rural north-of-England boys in the Aughties found out how absolutely mind-blowingly amazing it is to fall in love with another boy. I'm closer to knowing that now, and whaddaya know it's a lot like the ways city boys in Seventies Texas did. Hence the evergreenness of that plot. It's never going to be all that dissimilar to other times and places. Plotters, you've read it before, and nothing unusual happens here. Very slowly. Described in words and images designed to make your tear ducts open like stopcocks on a clepsydra. Until the ending, when it's more like the outflow channels through the Three Gorges Dam.

As to why, you'll find out.

What makes this journey down a well-worn cart track, jolts and ruts and huge potholes of Emotional Discovery℠ and all, worth my while is that I'm really there with young James. A poet who understands the power of leaving something unsaid, unheard, and all there in the spaces between the words—the boys—can make an old cynical great-grandpa think about how it happened, how it felt, who to hide from and how to cover it up. Things that hurt, that warped me in the moment, that felt like having my skin ripped off and salted vinegar poured on the wounds, are visible now in a gentler light, more importantly a context that makes them Meaningful Developments towards adulthood.

Is that good? Dunno, but it makes me feel good and likely will you, as well.

4.25 stars

Thanks to NetGalley for the ARC!!

This was great. It falls into the sad gay boy reflecting on his childhood trope that I love so much. Very beautifully written and I ate it up so quickly. Solid book! Definitely recommend!!

This one hurt!! The writing was absolutely beautiful. I added everything else this author has wrote to my TBR about 50% through the book. This is what CMBYN wishes it was. I do wish there was a little more of a concrete ending regarding James family at the end. Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC!