Artifact by Arlene Heyman (Bloomsbury £12.99)

Reaching the end of Arlene Heyman’s debut novel, Artifact, I found myself hard-pressed to say why I’d enjoyed the book, or even what it was really about. The novel covers several decades, from the 1940s onwards, and straddles subjects including feminism, motherhood, scientific research, depression, poetry, sex and sexual violence, without necessarily focusing on any of them.

It is a meandering tale, graphic and shocking at times and meditative at others, which doesn’t so much reach a conclusion as simply end. By the final pages, I wasn’t sure I really knew more about the protagonist’s motivations than I did at the outset.

And yet, for all that, it was never a struggle to read; on the contrary, I found myself eager to turn the pages. Heyman’s heroine, Lottie, comes from a typical middle-American family and her life looks set to follow a certain pathway; early marriage to the high-school football star, motherhood and suburban bliss. An accident and getting a job — in a laboratory — puts paid to that conventional expectation (this is not a spoiler, as the book opens two decades on with her hitched to a Jewish music teacher and living outside New York) and instead she embarks on a road towards independence and self-discovery.

Lottie isn’t always likeable – she’s a know-all, bristly at times and with few female friendships — but you gradually learn how she came to be that way.

Some of the experiences Heyman documents provide heartbreaking glimpses into the trials of being a woman in a man’s world. The sections showcasing Lottie’s slow career rise and the battles she had to fight in order to get a seat at the table are some of the most compelling of the book.

Heyman, a psychoanalyst and writer who previously authored the well-reviewed short story collection Scary Old Sex, and who was for a long time the companion of Bernard Malamud, is interested in relationships, good, bad, ugly and fleeting. Through Lottie’s eyes, we see all those and more; the men who let her down, those she lets down, and the one who balances her fiery personality.

We see her as a parent and stepmother, and witness the sacrifices she makes in order not to be consumed by her caring responsibilities.

But this isn’t a just a book about relationships; ultimately it’s about individuals, and all the myriad, multifaceted stories they have to tell. A quirky, unusual read but one that has plenty to say.

Jennifer Lipman is a freelance journalist