From #1 Sunday Times bestselling author Jennifer Niven, a novel about America’s favorite TV family, whose perfect façade starts to crack, for fans of Lessons in Chemistry and The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo.

For two decades, Del and Dinah Newman and their sons, Guy and Shep, have ruled television as America’s Favorite Family. Millions of viewers tune in every week to watch them play flawless, black-and-white versions of themselves. But now it’s 1964, and the Newmans’ perfection suddenly feels woefully out of touch. Ratings are in free fall, as are the Newmans themselves. Del is keeping an explosive secret from his wife, and Dinah is slowly going numb—literally. Steady, stable Guy is hiding the truth about his love life, and rock ‘n roll idol Shep may finally be in real trouble.

When Del—the creative motor behind the show— is in a mysterious car accident, Dinah decides to take matters into her own hands. She hires Juliet Dunne, an outspoken young reporter, to help her write the final episode. But Dinah and Juliet have wildly different perspectives about what it means to be a woman, and a family, in 1964. Can the Newmans hold it together to change television history? Or will they be canceled before they ever have the chance?

Funny, big-hearted, and deeply moving, Meet the Newmans is a rich family story about the dual lives we lead. Because even when our lives aren’t televised weekly, we all have a behind-the-scenes.

I received a complimentary copy of this audiobook courtesy of the publisher. All thoughts are my own.

I have a deep soft spot for old-school television. The Brady Bunch, Leave It to Beaver, Bewitched, I Dream of Jeannie—those shows were always on in syndication when I was growing up, usually playing in the background at my grandmother’s house while I ate mac and cheese or stole one too many chocolate chip cookies. They’re comfort TV, but they’re also fascinating time capsules. This book taps directly into that nostalgia and then peels it apart layer by layer.

On the surface, the Newmans are America’s perfect family. For decades, Del and Dinah Newman and their sons have dominated radio and television as wholesome, smiling versions of themselves. They are the picture of mid-century American ideals. But it’s 1964 now, and the world is changing fast. Ratings are dropping. Cultural expectations are shifting. And that carefully curated version of family life is starting to crack.

What I loved most about this book is how clearly it understands that disconnect between image and reality. The Newmans aren’t nearly as perfect as they appear on screen. The parents haven’t shared a bedroom in years. One son, a teenage heartthrob beloved by millions, is hiding the fact that he’s gay. Another son is desperate to shed his squeaky-clean persona and figure out who he actually wants to be. Behind the laugh tracks and scripted smiles is a family barely holding itself together.

Set against the rise of feminism and the growing pushback against the “ideal American housewife,” the story feels especially timely. Dinah Newman’s arc is the standout for me. She’s spent years playing a version of herself that no longer fits, quietly numbing herself to survive expectations she never chose. Watching her awaken to her own dissatisfaction and finally take control of her narrative was deeply satisfying. She doesn’t just question the role she’s been given. She challenges it head-on.

The introduction of Juliet Dunne, a young and outspoken reporter, adds an interesting generational clash. Juliet represents a new wave of thinking about womanhood, autonomy, and ambition, and her dynamic with Dinah is layered and compelling. They don’t always agree, but that tension is where the story shines. It asks what progress looks like when different generations are forced to confront the same problems from wildly different angles.

The men in the story are just as complex. Del’s secrets and failures complicate the idea of patriarchal control. Guy’s quiet struggle with his identity is handled with care and empathy. Shep’s desire to break free from the image that made him famous feels both rebellious and heartbreaking. Every member of this family is standing at a crossroads, and the stakes feel real even without melodrama.

Despite tackling heavy themes, the book never feels bleak. There’s humor, warmth, and a real affection for these characters. Their growth feels earned. Their mistakes feel human. And the question at the heart of the book—who are we when the cameras turn off—lingers long after the final page.

I also listened to this on audio, and it’s an excellent production. Marin Ireland does a fantastic job bringing Dinah and the rest of the cast to life with nuance and emotional depth. Tim Campbell’s narration of the newspaper and tabloid excerpts adds texture and grounds the story in its historical moment without feeling intrusive. If you enjoy audiobooks, this is a great way to experience the story.

This book is a love letter to retro television and a clear-eyed critique of the ideals it sold us. It’s about family, performance, reinvention, and the courage it takes to change course when the world expects you to stay the same. If you love classic TV and stories about people stepping out of carefully constructed boxes, this one is very much worth your time.

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