Adam Ross’ captivating second novel, “Playworld,” transports readers to a bygone era—a simpler time before the advent of helicopter parenting, smartphones, and what often feels like an ever-growing wave of cynicism. Set primarily over a single transformative year, it chronicles the journey of Griffin Hurt, a prep school freshman navigating a rather unconventional coming-of-age experience. Griffin introduces us to this unique chapter of his life with a startling revelation: “In the fall of 1980, when I was fourteen,” he recalls, “a friend of my parents’ named Naomi Shah fell in love with me. She was thirty-six, a mother of two, and married to a wealthy man.”
The story unfolds through Griffin’s eyes as an adult, recounting this pivotal time with a blend of irony and detachment. Even the most shocking events—a whirlwind affair, the trauma of muggings, a catastrophic apartment fire, and devastating instances of abuse at the hands of his wrestling coach, Mr. Kepplemen—are filtered through a nostalgic lens. It’s as if the magnitude of these experiences remains hazy, with Griffin confessing, “I so rarely feel things when they happen. I remain so insulated from myself.”
Griffin is an astute observer and a captivating narrator, yet his reliability is constantly in question. Trained from an early age as a successful child actor, Griffin has mastered the art of concealing unsettling truths—a skill he honed to protect himself from prying adult eyes. Even his longtime psychoanalyst, Elliot, a close family friend who offers therapy to the entire Hurt clan, remains at arm’s length. Elliot is as likely to doze off as he is to spout cryptic epigrams such as “we process all trauma like the oyster” or “strong swimmers often drown.”
Inhabiting Manhattan as if it were a magical kingdom reminiscent of Neverland, Griffin and his band of misfit friends traverse the city with carefree abandon. The Upper West Side becomes their playground, filled with adventures in parks, nightclubs, stairwells, and each other’s apartments—mostly free from adult supervision. Smoking and underage drinking slip by unnoticed.
For Griffin and his younger brother, Oren, parental attention is scarce. Their parents, Shel and Lily, are preoccupied with Shel’s evolving career. Griffin describes his mother, a ballet instructor and perpetual graduate student, with a poignant metaphor: “… [I]n our family food chain, Dad was her apex and Oren and I were at the bottom.” Shel, a talented singer relegated mostly to jingles and voice-over work, watches enviously as Griffin garners acting roles with ease—opportunities Shel would have sacrificed much to secure, but which Griffin pursues half-heartedly to support the family’s finances during lean times.
Ross’ world-building prowess is so immersive that readers are swept away by his enchanting vision of New York City, a place as mesmerizing as Griffin’s own Dungeons & Dragons realm. In this mythified cityscape, the inherent dangers seem peripheral, teaching resilience rather than fostering fear—a lesson Griffin embodies. Balancing acting commitments with school demands, he passionately pursues wrestling, even enduring self-imposed weight restrictions by jogging in a rubber suit. Then there is Naomi, whose daily presence in her silver Mercedes signals her longing for Griffin’s affection—an affection he feigns, aware of his lack of control in the situation.
Spanning over 500 pages, “Playworld” is an engrossing tale that leaves you yearning for more, filled with complex, morally ambiguous characters you can’t ignore. Ross’ prose enchants line by line, as seen through Griffin’s keen observations—from his classmates to family voices described with vivid, imaginative language. A bus ride with a crush is depicted as if the city becomes a dazzling diorama, every detail sharp and luminous.
Drawing on his own experiences, Ross weaves authenticity into the narrative. Like Griffin, Ross was a child actor, sharing the screen with luminaries like Alan Alda and excelling in wrestling, channeling his own life’s struggles and triumphs into the fabric of this novel. The parallel between Griffin’s and Ross’ familial relationships, particularly with their fathers, infuses the story with genuine emotion.
The conclusion of “Playworld” leaves the reader pondering the future that awaits Griffin and his eccentric, endearing family—a choice that feels delightfully fitting. As Griffin enthusiastically pedals home, his world alive with possibility, we’re left alongside him, exhilarated and hopeful for what lies beyond.
Leigh Haber, a seasoned writer, editor, and publishing strategist, was formerly the director of Oprah’s Book Club and books editor for O, the Oprah Magazine.
