EARLY SOBRIETIES

The witty, fiercely intelligent story of a young alcoholic in the fragile early days of sobriety, suspended between addiction and whatever life might come next—the shape of which he can’t yet see.

Twenty-six-year-old Dennis Monk, just months sober, gets the boot from his parents’ suburban Philadelphia home and begins what will be, over the novel’s episodic chapters, a half-year odyssey as the serial houseguest of relatives, old flames, and running buddies from high school and college. Dennis jumps from makeshift situation to awkward makeshift situation (pushed-together couches he hopes won’t get sold out from under him, cots in basements alongside washing machines) all over a rapidly gentrifying Philadelphia filled with his only-marginally-less-lost peers. Sometimes he’s a freeloader; sometimes he earns his keep, sort of, through errands not always handled successfully, projects he can fake his way through, or fitful employment. Dennis is nimble-tongued and keenly observant, and the book offers all sorts of humorous delights. Yet the reader quickly sees, too, that irony is Dennis’ protective coloration, that his wit is anxious and self-preserving. He may not be a gentrifier, but he is a kind of hipster who, like his coevals, simply wants to cobble together, from the unpromising materials available, an identity he can live in. Beneath the world weariness and sarcasm we get glimpses (for instance, in the bit-by-bit-revealed story of a friend who died from drinking) of a sweetness and vulnerability, even a fragile hopefulness, that Dennis is at pains to hide and resist. This is less a traditional novel than a linked collection of stories, a serial picaresque, but ultimately that approach feels like the right one for a book about navigating—or maybe just drifting through, in search of some useful piece of flotsam to grab hold of—a limbo of one’s own making. As a starting point for a new life, “non-drinker” is a necessary condition...but by itself that datum doesn’t get one very far. The book ends with Dennis, one year sober, on the verge of—well, who knows what, but verges beat sloughs every day.

Wry, sharp, charming, resistant to neat closures and easy turns—a debut of enormous promise.