The announcement of a major literary debut: What begins as a celebration takes a sudden turn when a shocking betrayal shatters the trust between families.

It’s an autumn weekend at a comfortable New York country house where two deeply intertwined families have gathered to mark the host’s fifty-second birthday.

Together, the group forms an enviable portrait of middle age. The wives and husbands have been friends for over thirty years, their teenage daughters have grown up together, and the drinks, dinners, rituals, and games that form their days all reflect the rich bonds between them.

This weekend, however, something is different. An unforeseen curdling of envy and resentment will erupt into an unspeakable act, the ramifications of which are enormous. Accusations, denials, and shattered illusions follow, driving wedges between friends, spouses, children and parents, and exposing the treacherous fault lines on which these families have dwelt.

Written with hypnotic elegance and molten precision, and announcing the arrival of a major literary talent, Hal Ebbott’s Among Friends examines the aftermath of betrayal within the sanctuary of a defining relationship. It explores themes of class, marriage, friendship, and power, as well as the things we tell ourselves to preserve our finely made worlds.

This is one of those books that’s hard to review because it left me with such a complicated reaction. On a craft level, it’s great. The prose is rich and will appeal to lit-fic lovers who like to get lost in poetic writing, and the pacing is smooth enough that I was never bored. The audiobook, narrated by Rebecca Lowman, is equally strong. She captures the quiet tension and shifting undercurrents between characters with a delivery that feels spot-on for this kind of intimate, domestic drama.

That said, I found the overall story to be problematic to the point that I was left feeling like I needed to power wash my soul once I finished. It was a similar reaction to what I had after finishing “Fox” by Joyce Carol Oates. The difference is, the latter book at least had a payoff I could get behind. I didn’t like what the privileged white man did in that story, but he eventually paid the price. That’s not the case in this book.

Basically, this is a book about privilege. Specifically, straight, white, male privilege in its most disgusting form. (Because, yeah, we don’t see enough of that displayed on the news every day.) The setup is simple: two long-entwined families gather for a weekend at a country house in New York to celebrate a birthday. On the surface, it’s all comfort, shared history, and familiar rituals. But something happens that in any normal family would tear friendships apart. That wasn’t the case here. The synopsis would lead you to believe that something horrible happens (it does) that changes the course of their friendship (it doesn’t). And this is where the book lost me. Because “the act” should have changed everything. If you don’t want spoilers, stop reading now.

One of the men SAs a teen girl. His victim, who also happens to be the teenage daughter of his best friend, is labeled a liar by nearly everyone around her, including her own parents. I cannot overstate how much this enraged me. The book doesn’t shy away from showing exactly how societal structures protect men like him. In that sense, it’s very true to life. But that truth is hard to sit with. There’s no possible way to walk away from this book and think “Wow, what a great read that was.” If the author was trying to show us just how despicable white male privilege is–he succeeded. But again, I see it every day. We all do. I don’t want to read about it, too. I almost DNFed the book, but pushed through because I hoped that someone would eventually wise up and finally make him pay for what he did, but no.

To play devil’s advocate, I think the discomfort is the point. The way the other characters bend over backward to protect the man, preserve their social circle, and maintain the illusion of their perfect little world is exactly how these situations play out in real life in some circles. That realism will resonate with some readers. For others, like me, it will leave you angry and feeling very gross afterward.

And I get it. Literature doesn’t have to be comforting. At times, it can (and should) challenge us. This book definitely does that. It forces you to look at the ugliness lurking under the veneer of civility. It makes you think about the lies people tell themselves in the name of friendship, loyalty, or “keeping the peace.” And it refuses to give you a clean resolution.

If you go in knowing that this book is about a man who does a very bad thing and gets away with it, and you’re okay with that, the book may work for you. But if you’re looking for justice, catharsis, or even the faintest glimmer that the bad guy won’t win, be prepared for disappointment. This is a story about the ones who get away with it, and the people who let them. It is unflinching in its portrait of privilege. I just wish it had given me something that felt like justice.

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