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Walking on Air
William Addams is dying. Controlling, mercurial, and estranged from his family, he is consumed by the fear that he'll be abandoned by Henry and Susan, his closest friends, the only people on whom he can rely. What he wants is for their faithfulness to last until they take him home to his beloved house to die. But as William's condition worsens, it becomes apparent that his expectations of devotion and loyalty involve not simply a loving commitment but the virtual handing over of his friends' vitality and independence; indeed, William covets their very lives. Filled with penetrating insights and dazzling beauty, Walking on Air explores the shadowy, often disturbing parameters of devotion, demonstrating its inevitable limits as well as its astounding powers of transformation.
272 pages, Paperback
First published October 16, 1995
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
June 7, 2026
4 stars
It is baffling that a novel as precise and psychologically devastating as Walking on Air remains buried in near-total obscurity. Set against a nameless urban backdrop heavily resembling a claustrophobic Manhattan, the novel acts as a universal allegory for the AIDS epidemic. Yet, by stripping the prose of proper names, medical jargon, and specific landmarks, Jones lifts the narrative out of a localized era, forcing the reader to confront a timeless human anxiety: What will we extract from the living to avoid dying alone?
The story follows William Addams, a mercurial, wealthy, and fiercely intellectual man dying of a degenerative, terminal illness. Estranged from his family, William becomes utterly obsessed with his two closest friends and caretakers, Henry and Susan. Terrified of abandonment as his physical autonomy slips away, William’s demands for care slowly morph into an emotionally predatory siege. He begins to systematically hijack his friends’ lives, freedom, and vitality in a desperate, final bid to maintain power.
The strength of Walking on Air relies on three distinct layers, beginning with the terrifying realism of its flawed humanity. On the surface, none of the main characters are inherently "nice." Some readers might find them difficult to like, but Jones handles their characterization with such a stark, staggering balance that they don't just feel fleshed out on the page—they feel dangerously real. They are kind, mean, selfish, smart, and foolish all at once. Jones refuses to sanitize the messy, ugly reality of long-term caretaking and impending mortality, giving us authentic human friction instead of predictable literary archetypes.
Furthermore, this tragedy is consistently supercharged by a razor-sharp, dry wit. Though the core narrative is inherently bleak, Jones’s style is never suffocating. In an extraordinary feat of tonal restraint, the prose is consistently amusing. Jones understands that real life doesn't stop being absurd just because it gets tragic; one day is cheerful, the next is gloomy. By juxtaposing long, heavy blocks of internal monologue with tense, funny dialogue, the book captures the exact emotional volatility of a sickroom without ever collapsing under its own weight.
This leads to an inevitable, clinical conclusion that is fiercely true to its nature. When Henry takes matters into his hands, it is not an act of malice, but a grand, inevitable double-liberation. Knowing that William would rather die than endure his parents' presence for another second, and recognizing the unsustainable trajectory of William's psychological tyranny, Henry chooses the only path left. It is an ending that feels shocking to the intellect but entirely loyal to the reality of their twisted, complex bond.
Ultimately, Walking on Air is a brutal critique of romanticized devotion; a sharp, menacing work that deserves to be read by anyone who values uncompromising literature.
It is baffling that a novel as precise and psychologically devastating as Walking on Air remains buried in near-total obscurity. Set against a nameless urban backdrop heavily resembling a claustrophobic Manhattan, the novel acts as a universal allegory for the AIDS epidemic. Yet, by stripping the prose of proper names, medical jargon, and specific landmarks, Jones lifts the narrative out of a localized era, forcing the reader to confront a timeless human anxiety: What will we extract from the living to avoid dying alone?
The story follows William Addams, a mercurial, wealthy, and fiercely intellectual man dying of a degenerative, terminal illness. Estranged from his family, William becomes utterly obsessed with his two closest friends and caretakers, Henry and Susan. Terrified of abandonment as his physical autonomy slips away, William’s demands for care slowly morph into an emotionally predatory siege. He begins to systematically hijack his friends’ lives, freedom, and vitality in a desperate, final bid to maintain power.
The strength of Walking on Air relies on three distinct layers, beginning with the terrifying realism of its flawed humanity. On the surface, none of the main characters are inherently "nice." Some readers might find them difficult to like, but Jones handles their characterization with such a stark, staggering balance that they don't just feel fleshed out on the page—they feel dangerously real. They are kind, mean, selfish, smart, and foolish all at once. Jones refuses to sanitize the messy, ugly reality of long-term caretaking and impending mortality, giving us authentic human friction instead of predictable literary archetypes.
Furthermore, this tragedy is consistently supercharged by a razor-sharp, dry wit. Though the core narrative is inherently bleak, Jones’s style is never suffocating. In an extraordinary feat of tonal restraint, the prose is consistently amusing. Jones understands that real life doesn't stop being absurd just because it gets tragic; one day is cheerful, the next is gloomy. By juxtaposing long, heavy blocks of internal monologue with tense, funny dialogue, the book captures the exact emotional volatility of a sickroom without ever collapsing under its own weight.
This leads to an inevitable, clinical conclusion that is fiercely true to its nature. When Henry takes matters into his hands, it is not an act of malice, but a grand, inevitable double-liberation. Knowing that William would rather die than endure his parents' presence for another second, and recognizing the unsustainable trajectory of William's psychological tyranny, Henry chooses the only path left. It is an ending that feels shocking to the intellect but entirely loyal to the reality of their twisted, complex bond.
Ultimately, Walking on Air is a brutal critique of romanticized devotion; a sharp, menacing work that deserves to be read by anyone who values uncompromising literature.
May 6, 2022
It's no minor accomplishment to write a novel about three characters, all quite well drawn, but only one of whom is fairly sympathetic (Susan). William is cranky -- a crankiness that did not originate with his HIV-related illnesses but rather was intensified by it -- as well as manipulative and in some ways just plain evil. Henry is a doormat who comes to resent this all too late.
The writing is of high quality, precise and frequently eloquent without being precious. The descriptions of physical deterioration are unsettlingly good. There's no more attempt at symbolism besides frequent localized simile/metaphor, with the possible exception of William's name (Will-I-Am), especially when considering the fact that a lot of the novel centers around the final disposition of his assets. I do wish, however, that someone had caught the author's use of "yoke" to describe the yellow part of an egg (p. 170 line 2).
One of the better novels to have come out of the AIDS crisis, although I dare say the novel's real theme is manipulation-as-friendship. Four stars.
The writing is of high quality, precise and frequently eloquent without being precious. The descriptions of physical deterioration are unsettlingly good. There's no more attempt at symbolism besides frequent localized simile/metaphor, with the possible exception of William's name (Will-I-Am), especially when considering the fact that a lot of the novel centers around the final disposition of his assets. I do wish, however, that someone had caught the author's use of "yoke" to describe the yellow part of an egg (p. 170 line 2).
One of the better novels to have come out of the AIDS crisis, although I dare say the novel's real theme is manipulation-as-friendship. Four stars.
July 21, 2011
hmmmm... a look into the hearts and mind of a man, William, who is dying... and two friends that endeavor to step in as family to care for him - via their feelings of love, friendship, obligation, and william's manipulations... hmmmm... well written, but a hard story to read for me.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 15, 2012
Precise prose, but I could not like this book because each character is so unpleasant in a banal and tedious way. While Jones gets within the mind and emotions of each character with great skill, I wanted to get back out as quickly as possible. An instance of a good book but horrible reading experience.
January 1, 2013
I picked this book up by what I thought was random chance, but now I believe that the universe meant for me to read this book at exactly that time in my life. Beautiful, raw, and honest, Walking on Air, was a wake up call. This book is a must read.
June 13, 2007
Supposedly fiction, likely the amalgamation of many friend's experiences as their bodies succumb to AIDS. Definitely painful.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews