A big and big-hearted novel—one enthralling, transformative year in the life of a child actor coming of age in a bygone Manhattan, from the critically acclaimed author of Mr. Peanut (“A brilliant, powerful, and memorable book” —The New York Times)
“In the fall of 1980, when I was fourteen, 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. Like so many things that happened to me that year, it didn’t seem strange at the time.”
Griffin Hurt is in over his head. Between his role as Peter Proton on the hit TV show The Nuclear Family and the pressure of high school at New York's elite Boyd Prep—along with the increasingly compromising demands of his wrestling coach—he's teetering on the edge of collapse.
Then comes Naomi Shah, twenty-two years Griffin’s senior. Unwilling to lay his burdens on his shrink—whom he shares with his father, mother, and younger brother, Oren—Griffin soon finds himself in the back of Naomi’s Mercedes sedan, again and again, confessing all to the one person who might do him the most harm.
Less a bildungsroman than a story of miseducation, Playworld is a novel of epic proportions, bursting with laughter and heartache. Adam Ross immerses us in the life of Griffin and his loving (yet disintegrating) family while seeming to evoke the entirety of Manhattan and the ethos of an era—with Jimmy Carter on his way out and a B-list celebrity named Ronald Reagan on his way in. Surrounded by adults who embody the age’s excesses—and who seem to care little about what their children are up to—Griffin is left to himself to find the line between youth and maturity, dependence and love, acting and truly grappling with life.
Adam Ross's debut novel, Mr. Peanut, a 2010 New York Times Notable Book, was also named one of the best books of the year by The New Yorker, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The New Republic, and The Economist. His story collection Ladies and Gentlemen, included "In the Basement,'' a finalist for the BBC International Story Prize. His nonfiction has been published in The New York Times Book Review, The Daily Beast, The Wall Street Journal, the Washington Post, and the Nashville Scene. He was the Mary Ellen von der Heyden fellow in fiction at the American Academy in Berlin, as well as a Hodder Fellow at Princeton University. His current novel, Playworld, published in January 2025. He is the editor of the Sewanee Review.
Releasing a novel every 15 years is a tough way to build an audience. In 2010, when Adam Ross published his first book, the dark comedy “Mr. Peanut,” Apple had just introduced the iPad and Americans still hadn’t seen “Downton Abbey.” The next year, when Ross published “Ladies and Gentlemen,” a celebrated collection of short stories, anticipation for his second novel started building. And building.
More than a decade ago, Ross was giving public readings from a manuscript titled “Playworld” and suggesting that the book was almost done. But in the end, he made us wait so long for his second novel that it risked sliding along the asymptote of never-quite-completed texts like Fran Lebowitz’s “Exterior Signs of Wealth” or Ralph Ellison’s “Three Days Before the Shooting.”
Happily, “Playworld” is finally in ourworld, and the book’s interminable gestation was worth the wait. Indeed, starting off 2025 with a novel this terrific gives me hope for the whole year....
Ross' latest tome tells the story of 14-year-old Griffin Hurt who, much like the author at his age, is a child actor and competitive wrestler living in New York. And yes, the navel-gazing autofiction trend is long past its prime, especially as it tends to focus on the "how hard I had it as a child"-angle (where are Annie Ernaux' and Édouard Louis accounts of being rich members of the Paris cultural elite? Not sympathetic enough as a topic?), but Ross envelops it in an epic social realist time capsule about the 80's in the big city. The whole thing is at least as aesthetically conservative as Jonathan Franzen's oeuvre, only sometimes letting through some magic realist light with hints to "Dungeons & Dragons". Yes, folks: This goes back to the classic novel, with the author's life experiences fueling his topics, without turning into a meditation about himself.
Griffin oscillates between the world of grown-ups and the world of his peers, fighting off the demands and attacks of adults while being in transformation to become one himself: Most notably, there is Naomi, a friend of his parents, who grooms him, commits statutory rape and tries to emotionally exploit him. Then, there is his wrestling coach, who is known to sexually harass the boys on his team. And we all know what the movie world has done mentally to children in successful shows. Griffin's parents live in precarious circumstances, which puts additional pressure on their son. Ross investigates how these experiences shape Griffin, an average teenager, but never in a flashy manner, and never in cliched ways -other than some reviews, that fully count on the Naomi/Griffin shock potential to garner attention, although it's not like this is what the text is mainly focusing on; rather, it's just one aspect of this tale about adolescence (headline: "The Hero of This Novel Is 14. His Married Girlfriend Is 36." - get a grip, NYT).
So as was to be expected, the story modulates the idea of "play" in various contexts, and the author takes his frequently meandering plot lines into various digressions and asides, adding plenty of details and minor bits and pieces. And sure, as the text is written from the perspective of adult Griffin, these decisions can be seen as hints to what is important to him, and thus who he is, but Jesus, there are some seriously tedious parts. I enjoy more stringent texts that are more aesthetically daring, which is, admittedly, not what Ross aims to do with this chatty, longish tale. But he could have added some kind of proper ending, because unlike in the case of, say: Bret Easton Ellis, this non-resolution or non-climax doesn't feel deliberate, it feels like a let-down.
A mixed bag by an unquestionably very smart and talented writer.
““So who had the better life?” I asked. Elliott shrugged. “It’s pretty obvious, but here’s my point. Back in the office you said you felt like you were speechless. That you had things you saw but struggled to communicate. Those are the two most heartfelt things you’ve ever shared with me. So maybe that’s what you’ve been put on the earth for. To come up with a language for your life.””
Oh but to come up with a language for the experience that is this book.
This was an elusive, gorgeous, at times frustrating, often maddening, bewildering, enchanting, heartbreaking, elegiac White Whale well worth pursuing.
Don’t get me wrong. I almost put it down several times. There are a lot of predatory adults. There is a lot of wrestling. There is a lot of acting. There is a lot of waiting while acting. But Adam Ross told me that the novel was a slow walk for a reason, and to enjoy the longueurs.
So I pushed through. And I was rewarded a thousandfold.
“Playworld” is an ode to a New York City that few of us got to know. An era of children running wild, let loose and free among adults behaving like children.
A magical and terrifying kingdom, a terra incognita with literal dungeons and dragons at every subway stop, inside every turret, an awe-striking place indeed where blue whales haunted the shores before they graced the ceilings of museums.
But ultimately, “Playworld” is all Griffin Hurt, high school wrestler and child actor extraordinaire, all eagerness and desires, navigating rough waters with nothing but a mythical name and heart and more heart. And he will break yours. Like a twig.
A wondrous Brothers Grimm tale for the twentieth century, filled with fraught family bonds, social disparities, wicked godmothers, fated crossroads and good vs evil.
Manahatta. Here be dragons, and the birth of the self.
PS: I have saved multiple podcast conversations, references, reviews and interview links with Adam Ross in my highlight for this novel in Instagram at @mybookhunter
4.5 stars. If you'd asked me if I wanted to read a 500-page, coming of age novel narrated over the course of a year by a 14-year-old boy, well, my enthusiasm would be limited. But, there was strong buzz for this novel, more than a decade in the writing. And if Ron Charles says it's good, I'll give it a look.
And yes, it is very good. This is not your typical 14-year-old leading a typical life, for a start. Griffin Hurt's artsy, affluent Manhattan upbringing is a world apart from my conventional suburban existence. It is, however, very much like author Adam Ross's life. Like his protagonist, he was a successful child actor. It's hard to imagine a kid less impacted by "fame." Well, a limited kind of fame. This kid is no diva. In fact, he's not into it at all. But his earnings pay for his fancy private school, his coming college, and there's a definite impression that he's keeping his family afloat between Dad's acting jobs. A life in the arts, it's not for everyone.
Griffin, who like the other members of his family, sees a shrink regularly, is surprisingly well-adjusted given the number of predatory adults in his life. Most characters are depicted with nuance, and this is a subtle, observant novel centered on a subtle observant boy. This is a long read, but it's worth the effort.
Superb, exemplary writing that is a joy to encounter but which Ross has inexplicably applied to a coming-of-age story most notable for its longeurs and plodding pace. It's a bit like watching Rudolf Nureyev mow the lawn. All that talent put to use for something so mundane. I can't be the first to note that John Iriving treats most of the major themes within Playworld in several of his best novels but has done so with far greater wit, pathos, and propulsion.
***Upping this from 4 to 5 stars in September 2025. Still thinking about it months after reading it, and with many books in between, including the so far brilliant The Slip which links rather nicely with this one. ***
There is a ton to love in this snapshot of a very particular time in a very particular place. I always say I was raised by wolves. Unless I did something that would embarrass my parents in front of the neighbors, or gained a pound, my parents did not engage much with me. I traveled through life and faced things I was far too young to face without protection or guidance. The same can be said of Griffin, our guide through a 1970's Manhattan childhood. Griffin's parents love him, but mostly treat him like a little adult living rent-free in their apartment. They take as much from from Griffin as they give. Griffn's father is a stage and voice actor who has not hit the big time. When he sees his son has natural gifts he drafts his son into child acting. Griffin succeeds despite himself and ends up with the responsibility to work hard for his father's dreams, regardless of whether he shares those dreams. Other adults in Griffin's life exact heartbreaking, horrible payments for the love, acceptance, and guidance they show him, and Griffin, sorely in need of those things, is willing to pay some very high prices, including the price of developing a crushing facility for detachment. I understood this and I expect many other readers will understand that response well.
This also provides a brilliant rendering of 1970s prep school teenage life in Manhattan. I was not yet in NYC then, I got here in my early 20s, but I have a number of friends who lived on the UWS and UES and went to the schools name-checked here (Griffin's school is made up, but Collegiate, Spence, and others are represented) and this meshes with their stories of drunken nights at Studio 54 and Dorians when they were in the early high school years
I absolutely recommend this book, which is an old-fashioned page-turner stylistically but includes some very modern messaging about a moment in time and its impacts. It is also funny, sad, smart, insightful and beautifully written.
I enjoyed the writing, and the characters in this novel felt very real, but there was just too much action in the book that didn’t seem relevant to the story. Had this been pared down a little, it could have been a 5⭐️ read.
Back in the day, this cat named Adam Ross came out with a wildly quirky and entertaining novel called MR. PEANUT, which was gravid with Hitchcock references. I loved the ever-living hell of it. Then Ross followed this up with an elegant short story collection. The guy had an undeniable voice: one that seemed to be building to something bigger and deeper.
Fourteen years passed.
Nothing from Adam Ross.
And then Ross came out of the blue and dropped this elegiac and emotionally poignant masterpiece, which not only blew EVERYTHING he had previously written out of the water, but is now my clear front-runner for Best Book of 2025. Really, you NEED to read this book. This goddamned novel needs to win awards or at least get nominated. (Come on, publishing world. I know many of you think I'm a maniac, but I'll live up to your false impression of me if you don't give this one ALL THE FUCKING LAURELS!)
Yes, PLAYWORLD is truly this great! Anyone who knows me KNOWS that I rarely give A Pluses. But I'm telling you. Adam Ross has fucking hit a homerun here.
This is a novel is about life, love, growing up, the risks of pretending and following a talent that doesn't suit who you truly are. It is written with deeply honed prose that rarely wastes a word. Yeah, we get a bit of the MR. PEANUT name joshing with a wrestling dude named after Paul Volcker and even a JULES AND JIM reference among one of the crews whom our "hero" -- child actor Griffin Hurt -- works with.
But all that is gravy for Adam Ross's deeply understated voice. He has clearly thought out -- or, perhaps more accurately, FELT out -- every emotional cadence of his character. And despite Griffin's ostensible privileged upbringing, this book is NEVER pretentious. I found myself deeply moved by Griffin's efforts to figure out how to be real. There's a great deal of pain in this book, ranging from the utterly vicious way in which Griffin has to keep within a certain weight range for his wrestling to his failure to act (much less recognize) what he feels for Amanda. And then there's Naomi, an older woman in an unhappy marriage with a Reagan Republican who seems to value little more than wealth who seduces this hapless fourteen-year-old.
Ross does so many amazing things here that I doubt I will cover everything, but here are just some qualities that stand out: (1) the book covers its time period without ever feeling nostalgic, (2) I loved the way the shadow of politics hangs over everything, which is itself a kind of pretense reflecting the pretenses of Griffin's life, (3) we both seem to see everything but also DON'T see everything, as one flashback to Griffin's father's previous lover makes clear, (4) the Jewish family background is handled with an intriguingly muted quality (again, suggesting a true identity that is deeply covered up), (5) Griffin's younger brother Oren is fascinating, particularly with the way he constantly drops the words "Old Testament" in relation to everything, and (6) the family dynamic initially SEEMS all-encompassing, only for Ross to show us that it is not as straightforward as presented.
You could call this a Great American Novel in the way that Ross subtly shows how pretending to be someone you're not is increasingly rewarded and upheld by forces outside our control. But it's also very much a volume of a man trying to make sense of his childhood past. I utterly loved the way Ross drops this nuggets of adult wisdom within this childhood chronicle. You RARELY see writing that is this nuanced anymore, but that still remains a hypnotic portrait.
One more thing about Ross's prose. It's measured as hell. It literally forces you to slow down, which is why it took me a while to finish this. A lot of people know me as a speedy reader, but Ross is such a brilliant writer that I was forced to slow down to appreciate the very pace of life itself, as it existed circa 1980.
Many people who are far smarter than I am have suggested that a novel is a prayer sent into the universe. In this case, Ross seems to be chronicling something that is lost but not so easily identifiable. Which is itself the very definition of spirituality.
I urge all Goodreads readers to read this novel in the strongest possible terms. It moved me. It made me mist up. It made me reflect on certain childhood events in my life. And it reminded me that we are all very often the sum of all our traumas and the chances we get and the bad decisions we make. Perhaps fiction, in the capable hands of Adam "Holy Shit You Knocked It Out of the Fucking Ballpark" Ross, represents a way to find peace and new meaning.
3.75 stars "Adults, I think now, were the ocean in which I swam."
Playworld is brilliantly written from the perspective of an adult looking back on his childhood at 14-15 years old. Griffin is a child actor who uses his salary to pay his private school tuition. This is one way his father exploits him. In addition, his wrestling coach is abusive, and a woman who is friends of his parents is grooming him. The predatory behavior of adults towards Griffin in this book made it hard for me to say I loved it. The writing is brilliant, and nothing is graphic only alluded to. The story is told against the historic backdrop of the Carter administration and the Reagan administration. It is a coming of age story and a love letter to NYC and the 80s. Themes of identity, the influence of adult relationships on teenage development, loneliness, and public perception vs. reality are explored. This is a lengthy, highly character driven novel that I highly recommend for those who are fans of that.
I came in hot wanting this to be a big sprawling, Franzen-esque epic novel, and it nearly was. There’s a greaaaaaat novel in here somewhere. Perhaps an indicator of my reading headspace more than anything, but I found the tangents this story went down limited the cohesion of the story being told. That being said there is a lot to like here, some wonderful writing, and incisive observations of the human condition. Not quite right for me right now, but probably just right for others.
Made it to page 340 and haven't touched it in two months, it has slowly moved from one stack to another to slowly be tucked away in some dark corner of my living room
It's time to call it
Beautiful writing and I wasn't hating it, but wasn't loving it either.
Described as a coming-of-age/historical/literary fiction book, Playworld is a chunky book. Clocking in at over 500 pages; it’s a book that demands attention!
At its best, this novel is atmospheric and the writing is great. The characters are memorable, and I have no doubt that this is a book I’ll be able to remember next December when I begin reflecting back on my reading year. Poor Griffin…I’d love to know what happened to him as he grew up and how he came to terms with everything that happened in this one year span of the book!
Another aspect I loved was how Ross made New York City SHINE! It made me want to travel these streets like Griffin did in the early 1980s. If anything, this book is a love letter to the city and she basks in the praise!
‼️ Trigger Warning: The one aspect of this novel that was hard to understand was the predatory behavior of the adults. Naomi is a family friend who is 36 years old, a wife, and mother to two girls. She is obsessed with Griffin who is 14 YEARS OLD! in this book. It is wildly inappropriate and I couldn’t understand what the purpose was. In addition to Naomi, Griffin’s wrestling coach is sexually abusive to his players, and again, it was just too much.
Since finishing, I’ve concluded that life in NYC in the 80s was something very different than we’re used to now. This is pre-helicopter parenting - where children roamed much more freely than kids do now. Regardless, in places, Ross took that too far for me when the kids became neglected by every adult in their lives - and not just neglected - but flat-out preyed upon and ignored. I think I would have liked to discuss this with others to try to understand the purpose of this aspect of the story.
This was such a long read for me. It was mostly without plot and at times quite pedantic. It is a very winding story about a child actor and his experiences as a teenager. This book really did not hold my attention and I considered a DNF several times, but I hate to leave a book unfinished.
I received this book through a Goodreads giveaway in exchange for my honest review.
What do you think occurs at that line between decency and indecency? Right and wrong? Good and bad? What lies in that morally gray area that can become a vast void in the blink of an eye? Do you think we pause, staring at that chasm, contemplating where our decision will take us? Or do you think many of us just act on impulse, relying on what is inherent in our nature?
I know that's a heavy-handed opening and a whole lot to think on at the start of a book review. I like to push buttons and make people uncomfortable. Too much of our world is slathered in a moisturizing layer of comfort. But this book isn't only a piece of extraordinary writing to savor; it is one that questions many morals and many lines between good and evil. In other words, it's the best kind of book.
I have never been one to shy away from controversial books, and I will warn you that this book contains conflicting subject matter for many. Look up any synopsis of this book, and it will tell you immediately what's up.
Quick synopsis: Griffin Hurt is a 14-year-old child actor growing up in NYC in the 1980s. He plays a balancing act between actor, friend, son, student, and wrestler. He attends Boyd Prep School, acts as Peter Proton on the hit TV show The Nuclear Family, and manages to have some time for his friends and family. One more thing, he has an older woman, Naomi Shah, a friend of the family, who has fallen for him. Talk about a full schedule for an early teen.
While most of this book was not focused on Griffin and Naomi's relationship, it was a gray area in the first half of the book or so, with storm clouds appearing and disappearing on a day when the weather was questionable. Will it rain or not? As the story progresses, the clouds become stormier, and then by the end, we have a full-on monsoon season. The rest of our story details the trials and tribulations that Griffin navigates, with Naomi being not the only unsavory morsel in his life.
Having grown up in the 80s/90s myself, I can understand the thoughts, feelings, and themes very acutely that the author nailed in this book. The whole world, so it seemed, had a laissez-faire attitude, especially about parenting. There is a nonchalance about everything that just hits home. I have recently read several books containing similar MMC coming-of-age storylines; but this one hits the mark the hardest for me personally. It's that attitude that was so prevalent in that era: let the kids take care of themselves and work at a young age (my own first job was at 14), let the parents be absent supporters (both emotionally and physically), and let the world be yours. It's a carefree coming and going, one that we particularly see in this book; for Griffin, it's a feeling as if the city is his playground.
To quote from the Goodreads synopsis, "Less a bildungsroman than a story of miseducation." Miseducation—isn't that the truth? The author pinned down (with a rather large finger) the essence of being a child in the 80s. Parents didn't teach their children much, at least mine didn't, and in our story, Griffin's didn't either. When I think on this, it occurs to me why I relate so highly to Griffin's story. Our backgrounds, our gender, and our class are all completely different. One does not need to inherit the same socioeconomic background to feel and understand a harsh word like neglect. Many would scoff at the use of that term, but isn't that what it is?
"Go outside and play, and I don't want to see you for the rest of the day" would be a common phrase in many households in that era. What a way to tell a child that they should not be seen or heard, that who and what they are doesn't matter.
Although I listened to this as an audiobook, if you are the kind of reader who likes to highlight beautifully written passages in a book, then I would definitely recommend reading the physical book. The writing was whimsical and nostalgic—albeit containing heavy-themed undertones—and full of the kind of prose that makes you think and grants your heart permission to sing. This is an undeniable thunderstorm of a book, filled with light and heavy rain, lightning, wind, and the rainbow that emerges after the storm.
There are all kinds of memes out there that try to make light of what it was like to grow up in a generation whose parents famously left us to parent ourselves and get home “before the street lights came on” without bothering them too much in-between. At times, while reading, I found myself feeling nostalgic for the freedom and independence that kind of parenting style afforded us (or, as a parent myself (now), how freeing it might have been to be less entrenched in the claustrophobic parenting style we adopted when raising our own). I liked the story’s resistance of nostalgia, even though its set-design is littered with surprisingly wonderful ephemera (Charlie perfume, Members Only Jackets,—InTelevision!). But nostalgia is just memory without the pain, right? Playworld obliterates any “good old days” tropes (thank God). It seduces us into taking a peek backstage and punctuates scenes with the unfettered pain that often accompany actions in verboten spaces. I, for one, felt validated by the discomfort that never gets airtime—especially in the coming-of-age genre epic.
Ross’ book is populated with characters who emulate the complications that arise when the power dynamics of order are less defined by expectations by positions of authority (parent/child; teacher/student, coach/player; older/younger sibling; doctor/patient; president/constituent) while raising uncomfortable questions about power itself through the experiences of people who endured the fallout from switching positions. I was particularly moved by his portrayals of vulnerability; his characters regularly defied tired gender tropes of strength and weakness. Are you strong because you endure pain without bothering your parents? What does it mean for a father to rely on his children to pay his family’s rent? Doesn’t every young man secretly lust over a teacher, a friend’s mom, a mother’s friend? A disciplined athlete follows directions from his coach, but what if that coach manipulates his position for his own weaknesses? Shouldn’t a young man’s masculinity be elevated to hero level if he achieves these fantasy positions so early in his life? I loved the story’s resistance to easy answers to all of these questions. And though it took a long time to write, somehow the timing of its publication seems perfect. The prose is downright gorgeous, and the imagery hits all of the senses: music (operatic to jingles), scent (the inside of a rubber suit to L’air du Temps), sight (his description of sailors’ eel-ing vomit will stay with me), touch (too many to list—the scary & the sensual), and taste—really—hunger. The denial and gorging of food left me breathless (and hungry).
This is such a big book. I’m still trying to process it. I started reading the hard copy, but after hearing the author read, I bought the audiobook and listened. I loved the way Ross read it and marveled at his capacity to capture the intense and quiet moments with perfect tension/tenor. I know it is semi-autobiographical and often wondered what parts were difficult to read out loud; which parts may have felt righteous. I was genuinely sad when it ended, and I hope he writes a sequel—with a request that it comes out a bit sooner than Playworld did!
Playworld is a story spanning a year in the life of Griffin, a 14-year-old child actor and high school wrestler. He plays Peter Proton on TV, a family of superheroes based around the "nuclear" family - a role where he struggles to interact with people on set except for the man who plays his father. Griffin wrestles for his private school's team, and while Coach Keppleman is creepy, he does lead the boys to significant improvements. Amidst this, Naomi, a 36-year-old friend of his parents, starts taking an interest in Griffin as he ages into puberty, and he accepts these advances. He’s in over his head in the rest of life and wants someone, anyone to care about him. He feels like Naomi actually understands him and genuinely listens to his worries, so he allows these advances. This relationship helps Griffin navigate the changing NYC scene — from navigating his high school days, to coming to terms with the political change with Reagan’s inauguration, to the disintegration of his true nuclear family.
For context, I like a sad book, I like melancholy, and I like a book with well-balanced or well-utilized trauma that grows with the character or functions as societal commentary. I'm no stranger to these kinds of complex topics, and some of my overall favourites include some of these quasi-problematic topics. I say all of this because I want folks reading my review to understand that I knew what I was getting myself into with this book.
However, when it comes to Playworld I felt like the story was trauma for traumas-sake. Griffin is a 14-year-old who is just traumatized again and again for no reason — his therapist sleeps during his sessions, he’s only at his private school so long as he can work in television (which he hates), his parents don’t pay attention and instead use him as a cash dispenser, the 36-year-old Naomi is touching him on every page, Coach Keppleman wrestles the boys at his apartment without underwear and moans... I almost feel like this was trying to combine Lolita with A Little Life, but it got the worst of both.
I originally was listening to this book as an audiobook, which is narrated by Ross. However, in an attempt to avoid Naomi and Keppleman, I switched to reading the book myself so I could read around them. In the first 30 pages after I switched .
The one main positive thing I will give Ross is that the writing is beautiful. He managed to capture nostalgia, melancholy, and yearning in nearly every sentence. If it wasn't for the content, I'd be singing the praises of this book on technical prowess alone!
I wasn't sure about Playworld after the first paragraph: “In the fall of 1980, when I was fourteen, 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. Like so many things that happened to me that year, it didn’t seem strange at the time.” I wasn't sure I wanted to read about that or if I wanted to spend over 500 pages in the head of a 14 year old boy, but this book is much more than that. We get to spend a year with Griffin Hurt and Ross' exquisite sentences, and I'm shocked that I didn't really want it to end.
Playworld is very much an 80s novel, a coming of age novel, and a New York City novel. The world was so different in so many ways, and yet being a teenage boy is still being a teenage boy. Yes, Griffin is a professional actor, and yes his life has some absurdities to it, and yet he is still a teenage boy. This book was way less about the acting and this 36 year old predator than I was anticipating. Griffin's psychologist urges him to consider that he was put on this Earth to come up with a language for his life. These 500 pages feel like an exercise in trying to craft that language as an adult looking back.
Griffin says that adults were the ocean in which he swam. It is absolutely appalling the way so many adults fail him in so many ways. Griffin needs to act in way more senses of the word than just the TV show he stars in. What I found beautiful was the way his childlike spirit persisted to exist in the ways he chased after a crush, explored NYC, and made mistakes as teenagers do.
Yes, parts of this are hard to read, but the sentence level writing made it very worth it for me. It feels very reminiscent of Russo and Irving and I'm grateful for my time spent with Griffin. Thank you @aaknopf for the egalley and finished copy of this one.
my goal for 2025 is to finally dive into all those long bildungromans on my tbr bc i typically love them but just rarely take the time for a lengthy book. Playworld reminded me of why i love these books - Ross’s writing makes it feel like a coming-of-age movie.
It’s a drama following a year in the (quite unique) life of a 14-year-old boy in the ‘80s, a child actor and wrestler. And although it follows his journey there, the focus of the book is the adults in his life and how he gets accustomed to being treated certain ways by them; it explores the ways adults can subtly be abusive, and the book itself is never really graphic and leaves a lot implied which feels metaphorical for what Griffin himself is experiencing. a really interesting and well-paced book (i flew through this 500-page book in 3 sittings) that will stick with me for a long time, and likely end up being one of my 2025 favorites.
Playworld feels like a coming of age story you’d read and analyze in a lit class and I’m not sure if that’s a bad thing to me yet.
Griffin is a child actor, living in 1980’s Manhattan. Set against the backdrop of Reagan’s presidency, Princess Diana and Prince Charles’ wedding, and the rise of MTV, Griffin is being taken advantage of by almost every adult in his life. He feels like he owes his father (someone who has tried and failed to be Big many times), he feels like he’s boring his therapist, and he’s being abused by two people who should be trusted: his wrestling coach, and a friend of his parents.
At the age of 15, he’s feeling like everything and everyone around him is a mystery. Acting, something that comes seemingly natural to him, gets harder and harder to do when the dynamics of everyone in his life is constantly shifting.
The character dynamics and relationships within this book were some of the best parts. Griffin feels things acutely but doesn’t have the language to call them what they are. He feels like he’s always acting, which adds distance between him and the things that are happening to him. What is the role he’s playing? His father? The girl he likes?
Playworld is more slice of life than anything else. A Year in the Life of Griffin. This is not plot heavy, but it is marked with memorable moments. The writing is completely immersive at times, but far too bogged down at others. I mostly listened to this on audiobook and I suggest that—it’s narrated by the author and his inflection helps make ginormous paragraphs seem a little less daunting.
It’s been a long time since I’ve read a book like this, and I could probably spend hours analyzing each character and their motivations and their pivotal moments which is why this feels like an epic lit project.
*I received a free copy for review from the publisher.*
I can’t even begin to express how much I did not enjoy this book lol. Though I understand that a book like this is meant to meander in order to fully capture the years that apparently represent Griffin’s “coming of age”, there was a complete lack of any narrative or even thematic thread to keep me at all interested. Is it a story of adults leading Griffin astray? Is it a story of his search for young love? Is it a story of the pressure put on a child actor? I’m not sure, because none of these questions were fully explored. Each time I found myself interested or emotionally invested in an event in his life (whether it be the older woman trying to seduce him, or his abusive wrestling coach, or the even the lingering guilt he must have felt from the fire that seemingly lead him into feeling the need to act in order to make money for his family) that thread would just end without any resolution, leading to a different moment in Griffin’s life that was far less interesting.
The narrator’s voice never finds itself, which makes it that much harder to feel at all invested. The 80s setting showcases all of the most boring parts of the decade. The young adult characters speak (and think) like 40 year old former lit majors. I don’t think Adam Ross fully thought about what he wanted this book to be, yet somehow managed to write over 500 pages. Great cover though!
DNF around pg 200 (of an almost 500 pg book). It had some beautiful writing but I was bored and found it meandering with way too many characters and uninteresting details (way too much about high school wrestling) of the 14 year old MC’s life. The come-on with the book is the 14 year old MC’s affair with a 36 year old family friend. As well as being unsavory, I found that boring also. - as hard is that might be to believe.
I’m not sure why this hasn’t been more talked about—at least where I’ve been looking as I try to find the best new reads of the year. This is such an accomplishment. Autobiographical fiction can be, to me, the very best, richest, rawest of writing; it can also be a dumping ground for forced pithiness and gauche self-aggrandizement. In Playworld, Ross reaches a new level of achievement in the genre: you forget that he’s a writer and experience him only as pure human realness. The young years he recounts are painful as we watch a boy fight his battles alone in a world where adults either don’t have time for him or (in a way I can only describe as vampiric) try to rob him of his youth and innocence. But at the same time, those lonely years he shares with us just radiate humanity. I’m struggling to put my experience with this book into words, but I highly recommend giving it the time (it’s a bit of a door stopper) it deserves.
2.5 ⭐️ read some reviews of feeling weird about the age gap relationship but my biggest problem with this book was the length and the payoff not feeling worth it. The “relationship” in question is hardly there and while this is mostly made up of pieces of Griffin’s life in the span of a year, I would have actually enjoyed it being more fleshed out and seeing him grow up and dealing with the repercussions of all that happened in this year. Mostly felt like a lot of ok small stories but nothing really great.
Snore. I usually enjoy coming of-age novels but this mess? For one thing, it’s endless. I liked the main character at the beginning but started n disliking him intensely by the middle of the book because why do I need to read 8 pages of dull prose about every single place this guy went during his youth. It’s a coming of age-novel—grow up already. Are there no editors left?
The narrator here is as old as one can be as part of Gen X--aged 15 when Reagan was first elected. It details a year in high school in Manhattan, the wrestling team with a predator coach, dating someone his mom's age, trying to date someone age appropriate, playing RPGs, stealing a car, being an actor on stage and screen--yaknow, regular kid stuff. Likely if he knew how to jerk off, much of the problems could be avoided.
I found relatable his adolescent reticence, knowing something is off but lacking a language of protest and grievance. Humorous throughout. Plenty of commentary on the early Reagan years. The narrator is incompetent at everything except acting, and that is revealed to be a mechanism of deceit in his everyday life, which mechanism we easily read back into the backdrop of actor Reagan getting elected. I suppose it also applies to the present moment of charlatan thug Trump, more fit for a reality show than office.