REVIEW:

The People We Keep is the type of book that has a lot of scenes where “new adults” have mid-makeout discussions about stopping and getting (or not getting) a condom. And that’s…

…just not really my thing. Even if “condom” is the most gratuitous c-word used, there are so many other subjects and situations I find more interesting. Especially when one of the new adults is really a young adult aged 16, having relationships with several man-boys including a 27-year-old.

It’s 1994 and budding singer/songwriter April has an absent mother and an ass-bite dad. She takes off to make it on her own and flies through a series of towns, friends, and bed mates. While I do think author Allison Larkin has written a realistic portrait of a girl her age in her situation, I just wasn’t the right reader for April’s story.

Many of my trusted reviewer friends have loved this book and praised its heartwarming elements though. I hope Larkin continues to expand her audience, even if I’m not a part of it.

My thanks to Gallery Books for the advance print copy to review. The People We Keep is now available.

PUBLISHER SYNOPSIS:

The People We Keep is about a young songwriter longing to find a home in the world.

Little River, New York, 1994: April Sawicki is living in a motorless motorhome that her father won in a poker game. Failing out of school, picking up shifts at Margo’s diner, she’s left fending for herself in a town where she’s never quite felt at home. When she “borrows” her neighbor’s car to perform at an open mic night, she realizes her life could be much bigger than where she came from. After a fight with her dad, April packs her stuff and leaves for good, setting off on a journey to find a life that’s all hers.

As April moves through the world, meeting people who feel like home, she chronicles her life in the songs she writes and discovers that where she came from doesn’t dictate who she has to be.

This lyrical, unflinching tale is for anyone who has ever yearned for the fierce power of found family or to grasp the profound beauty of choosing to belong.