A riveting debut novel for readers of Celeste Ng, Greenwich explores the nature of desire and complicity against the backdrop of immense wealth and privilege, the ways that whiteness and power protect their own, and the uneasy moral ambiguity of redemption.

Summer, 1999. Rachel Fiske is almost eighteen when she arrives at her aunt and uncle’s mansion in Greenwich, Connecticut. Her glamorous aunt is struggling to heal from an injury, and Rachel wants to help—and escape her own troubles back home. But her aunt is oddly spacey and her uncle is consumed with business, and Rachel feels lonely and adrift, excluded from the world of adults and their secrets. The only bright spot is Claudia, a recent college graduate, aspiring artist, and the live-in babysitter for Rachel’s cousin. As summer deepens, Rachel eagerly hopes their friendship might grow into more.

But when a tragic accident occurs, the family turns on Claudia in a desperate bid to salvage their reputation. Caught between her upbringing and her feelings for Claudia, her desire to do the right thing and to protect her future, Rachel must make a pivotal choice. She’s the only one who knows what really happened—and her decision has consequences far beyond what she could have predicted.

I received an advance galley of this book courtesy of the publisher via NetGalley. All thoughts are my own.

What an impressive debut! I gotta admit, though. I went into this one expecting a rich-people-behaving-badly kind of thriller, but that’s not what this is. Not even close. And honestly, I’m glad it surprised me the way it did. I’m definitely not mad at it.

Like I said, this isn’t a thriller. It’s not even a mystery. It’s a tightly written, emotionally sharp literary novel that examines race, privilege, silence, and complicity. It’s about the lies people tell themselves when the truth threatens the status quo, and how easy it is to do nothing when doing something might push you out of your comfort zone.

The story centers on eighteen-year-old Rachel, who’s spending the summer of 1999 with her aunt and uncle in Greenwich, Connecticut. Her aunt has been injured, and Rachel’s meant to help out around the house and with her young cousin Sabine. From the start, there’s a quiet sense of unease. Her aunt floats through the house in a haze. Her uncle’s either absent or distracted. Rachel feels isolated within a family that doesn’t seem to function but clings to routine anyway.

Then Claudia, the live-in nanny, enters the frame. Claudia is a recent college graduate. She’s Black, artistic, independent, grounded, and quietly commanding in a way that makes it impossible for Rachel to not notice her (and become a little obsessed with her). Their bond grows slowly, but it’s clear from the beginning that Rachel is drawn to Claudia, and not just as a friend or mentor. And what begins as a subtle coming-of-age story soon evolves into something heavier, messier, and completely unexpected.

About halfway through the book, something happens that completely changed the trajectory for me. I was tandem reading and listening to the audiobook, and I had to pause, rewind, and listen again. It hit like a punch. I saw it coming maybe a sentence or two before it happened and I so desperately wanted to jump into the book and intervene. It hit me so hard that I had to pause the book and take a breath. In less than a page, the entire story shifts, the tone darkens, and the fallout begins.

From that point on, every interaction felt loaded. Every decision, no matter how small, pulsed with tension. Relationships change. Silence grows louder, and everyone is only looking out for themselves. If you get caught in the crossfires? Oh, well. That’s your problem.

The true brilliance of this novel lies in how it explores complicity. Rachel knows the truth of what really happened. She knows that what is happening (and I am being deliberately vague here) wasn’t right. But she also knows that speaking up could unravel her own future. Her decision—what she chooses to say versus what she chooses to keep to herself—is the beating heart of this story. It’s maddening, infuriating, and real.

What really grabbed me about this book was how sparse yet precise the writing is. Every line matters. Every detail cuts. Like I said, this isn’t a thriller, but it does get tense and the author builds tension without theatrics and lets her characters drive the emotional weight. Nothing is heavy-handed. Nothing is overdone. This is a book that trusts its readers to sit with discomfort, to observe the nuance, and to question their own silence.

The audiobook, narrated by Amani Jane Powers, is outstanding. Powers doesn’t just read the story—she breathes life into it. Each character sounds distinct, grounded, and emotionally resonant. The narration amplified the tension and intimacy in a way that pulled me even deeper into the story. If you enjoy audiobooks, I highly recommend going that route or tandem reading, as I did.

If you’re looking for an explosive thriller, this won’t scratch that itch. But if you want a book that interrogates race, class, and power through the lens of a single summer—and the weight of one white girl’s silence—this book delivers. It’s a slow burn, and it lingers. It gets under your skin and stays there. The shift from light to dark happens almost without you noticing, and by the time you realize where it’s going, it’s too late to look away.

Read it. It’s worth the time.