The Sleepers

by Matthew Gasda

The Sleepers delves into the intricate lives of three incredibly authentic characters as they navigate the tumultuous currents of modern relationships and ambitions. Akari is a successful cinematographer entangled in a turbulent romance with the younger Suzanne. Her sister, Mariko, confronts her lost dreams of acting, seeking solace and validation through an old connection. Meanwhile, Dan, Mariko’s partner and a leftist academic, struggles with personal failures and teeters on the brink of a scandalous affair.

As their interwoven dramas unfold, they converge at a poignant and emotional crossroads. With its razor-sharp dialogue and insightful observations, The Sleepers delivers a stylish and unflinching examination of love, ambition, and the search for meaning in a fractured world.

Genres: Fiction, 21st Century

288 pages, Hardcover

Published May 6, 2025

Reviews

[*TUDOR^QUEEN* · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 Stars

This was a romp through New York narrated by several different people whose lives ultimately intersect with each other. At the center is the depressing and stagnating relationship of a couple living together. The lady Mariko is a struggling actress/part-time waitress while her years live-in male is a professor and writer- Dan. Dan is a particularly distasteful character, an academic who ruminates in constant platitudes but seems to be a walking contradiction who can't decide on anything. Visiting is Akari - Mariko's cinematographer sister, who's coming into town from LA, still somehow tethered/tantalized by the thought of her ex- lover Suzanne. Eliza is a former college student of professor Dan who is trolling him on social media. The intense dialogue rules the roost in this story, its intellectual meanderings enough to tear you apart. As per usual these days in books no indicators of who's talking- so at times it was confusing to match up the words with its orator. It was like being in a therapy session and being pulled back and forth in a tug of war; these conversations weren't for mental midgets. A lot of it went over my head. Still, this was a very intriguing character study with simmering sexual tension and some surprising twists.

Thank you to the publisher Arcade / Simon & Schuster for providing an advance reader copy via Edelweiss.

[Adam Hunter · Rating 5 out of 5]

Genuinely incredible. Once I put the book down I was surprised by how moved I was. An encounter with the sheer mess of humanity, the book that puts the contemporary period into perspective.

[Ayla · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Sleepers by Matthew Gasda follows the lives of four intersecting New Yorkers. We are introduced to Akari, a cinematographer, her sister Mariko, a struggling actor, and her husband Dan, an acclaimed professor. The central storyline revolves around these three main characters as they confront the collapse of their social identities.

Starting off, I found this tricky to get into. There are very long chapters (some over an hour) but I actually enjoyed these as you really have time to bond with and understand each character and their individual struggles and motivations.

The novel is composed greatly of deep, intricate prose and Gasda is nothing short of masterful in his observation of human behaviour. I found these insights painfully relatable, with an uncanny ability to capture the human experience with striking accuracy. Certain excerpts left me with an overwhelming sense of dread but in a ‘Wow how did you read my mind I can’t believe someone has articulated my darkest thoughts’ kind of way. People that live in their head and overthink everything and pick apart each moment of their life will really enjoy this and feel seen. Very existential but very poignant.

I did find the main focus to kind of fall to Dan and Mariko and would’ve liked to hear more about Akari but overall it was still very good. If character driven books aren’t your thing, I would definitely give this a miss but if they are, then this is a real gem.

Thank you to NetGalley and SkyHorse Publishing for my ARC.

[Gideonleek · Rating 5 out of 5]

Full of truth. Bitter truth. Made me sad for people and the world.

[Ella · Rating 1 out of 5]

DNF @ 85%. I wish I could give it 0 stars. There was so much nothing it actually pmo. The dialogue was absolutely pointless and had me tweaking. Why are we having a conversation if no one is going to say anything worth listening to. I can’t do it

[hajin yoo · Rating 3 out of 5]

hits too close to home - 3 stars.

[George Sutton · Rating 4 out of 5]

Damn. This book was real, too real, and it made me very sad. We are all asleep. Can we ever wake up?

4.5 stars

[Chandler · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Sleepers follows four New Yorkers; a cinematographer, an actress, a professor, and a college student. They are sisters, lovers, mentors, and pupils simply existing in the digital age. Driven by the characters and their dialogue, the story lets the reader peer in to both their internal battles and their interpersonal conflicts. The war between their bodily desires, pursuits, sense of self and morals is wonderfully explored through their thoughts and speech. At its core, this is an exploration of the human condition.

The Sleepers will probably be a polarizing novel. You’ll either love or hate the writing style. I personally fall in the former category. It felt true and authentic, as if I were eavesdropping on the cast of characters. The speech is written exactly as it would occur; with pauses, “likes”, stutters, and interruptions. The story reads like a transcript which feels incredibly authentic.

The characters are very in-your-face jaded millennials which, again, you’ll either find endearing or obnoxious. It is easy to identify with any one of them but Mariko, in particular, I resonated with. Every character is flawed but also incredibly self aware. They mess up, wrestle with guilt, grief, shame, heartbreak, and love. They all feel beautifully and devastatingly human. Matthew Gasda clearly understands the human psyche and all the complexities it encompasses. The way we portray ourselves outwardly versus our most wretched thoughts. The irony of holding others to different standards than we hold ourselves. How emotions shape our behaviors. The desire to form real connections but also safeguard our emotions. Holding on to toxic relationships because we’re scared of loneliness.

From the internal commentary while using a public bathroom to the less than kind thoughts about friends and their shortcomings, this novel made me come to the realization that we really are not as unique as we believe. There are people walking around living their life having the same thoughts and inner monologue.

An underlying theme throughout The Sleepers is technology and its effect on interpersonal relationships. The very real addiction people have to their phones and the true consequences of having access to so much knowledge. To the characters, technology is a tool to distract themselves from their despair and benumbed existences; a habit most of us can probably relate to.

The Sleepers may be the most thought-provoking piece I have ever read. Even after completion, I find myself still moved and in an introspective state brought on by my reading it. The prose left me feeling despondent by the realness of it; the same way that I look at the world with feelings of despair and hopelessness. This isn’t a book to get lost in and distract from reality: this is an in-your-face look at that reality.

I will absolutely be recommending this to as many people as I can reach. If you like character driven plots and stories that leave you staring at walls, this is your Roman Empire.

Thank you to NetGalley and Arcade for the eARC in exchange for an honest review.

[Michael · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 stars, rounding up.

My review for this book was published by Library Journal in April 2025:

Set in New York City during the foreboding final weeks of the 2016 presidential campaign, this incisive novel tracks four characters as they navigate the general malaise, sexual frustration, and emotional loneliness of modern life: Mariko, an actress whose dying mentor rekindles a bygone romance; her sister Akari, a cinematographer visiting from Los Angeles; her partner, Dan, a leftist professor who accepts a dubious late-night assignation from a former student, Eliza (the fourth protagonist). Gasda, a playwright, stages most of his chapters as two-person dialogues between his protagonists; messy, circular, unresolved conversations where they interrogate each other’s motives and stumble toward connection: Mariko and Dan lamenting the state of their relationship amid a backdrop of unaddressed trauma; Dan and Eliza tap-dancing around their doomed affair; Akari and her ex-girlfriend Suzanne possibly reconciling over text messages and a distance of 3,000 miles. These are unflattering portraits of people who are overeducated, benumbed by technology, and hyper-aware of their own flaws and everyone else’s. In lesser hands, they would be insufferable, but Gasda adeptly generates empathy for all of the characters, as their story sleepwalks toward a subtle but devastating climax. VERDICT A solid addition for libraries with robust literary fiction collections.

Copyright ©2025 Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. Reprinted with permission.

[Charlotte · Rating 4 out of 5]

I almost put this book down. It’s a scathing portrait of aimless Millenials sleepwalking through life. They have no developed sense of self, and so they fall subject to their worst desires.
This was extremely depressing and anxiety producing for me to read at first, before I understood that the characters were intentionally taken to the extremes of their faults. It’s about people who give into the impersonality of modern life and therefore give up any redeeming qualities they may have once had. Definitely an intense read.
I stuck with this because it reads like a play, it’s mostly dialogue, and I was intrigued by this style. I couldn’t put it down.

[Jade Wootton · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fantastic use of dialogue. Finished on the M train at dusk, the sky slightly grey, watching pink clouds reflect on the buildings across the water. Couldn’t think of a more perfect way to conclude my experience in the world of this novel.

A stark and gripping depiction of contemporary ethics and the NYC of 2015 (I was living here for that, too! Feeling seasoned and old, in a way I’m obviously proud of. The fact that I’ve been here for twelve years — even longer than the sprawling time span this novel moves through — makes me REALLY feel that I can call myself a true New Yorker.)

Huge congratulations are in order for this literary achievement, Matt. Can’t wait to see and hear what’s next.

[Lee · Rating 4 out of 5]

How to flirt with a disillusioned ex-leftist, by Matthew Gasda:

"Isn't radical political commitment supposed to like supplant religion?"

Dan wasn't sure if she was mocking him. "That's what I think I was doing, if I'm being completely honest, during Occupy and such. But - "

"It didn't do the trick - "

"No - nothing's 'done the trick'."

"Sad."

Dan nudged Eliza with his foot under the table. "Hey - "

"Hey ... "

"You're cute."

[Rachel B. · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book was exhausting to read. It is a lot of inner and outer monologues and there was not a single head amongst the lot of characters that I wanted to be trapped inside. I guess I’m glad my brain doesn’t provide a continuous cycle of anxious thoughts. I’ve also never had a conversation like any in this book. I’m not saying they don’t exist but I’m lucky enough not to have had one. There were some good points made and interesting ideas explored but it felt like wading through molasses to get there.

This book was not for me. I can appreciate the author’s talent but I don’t enjoy this type of excruciatingly introspective lit fic.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for an e-ARC in exchange for an honest review.

[David Malkin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Scathing indictment, or rather, illustration of what’s left of the millennial project, its dead end, and the desires that bring our characters to ruin and unfulfilled - they desired to desire .

[M. Desmond · Rating 5 out of 5]

In the case of "The Sleepers", as with most literary fiction worth its salt, you can often tell as much about the merits of a book from its admonishments as you can from its praises.

Not that the book has been reviewed mostly negatively — that isn't the case. It has, however, turned out to be quite polarizing in its reception, and there is a meta-irony to unravel between the narrative and some of its detractors.

But first, I suppose I should start with my own unadulterated thoughts about the novel, previous to my doomscrolling its reviews.

"The Sleepers", like any good New York novel, positions the city less as a backdrop than as an omnipresent character, heightening — even antagonizing — the emotions of its characters, functioning more as a psychic mirror than a setting. It is a classically executed Chekhovian drama, dressed in contemporary clothing, bearing a set of conflicts both perennial and refracted through this century.

It is a portrait of sexual-romantic attachment in an age that prescribes excess — as both an antidote and access point — for the spiritual decay of modernity.

Dan, a repressed and restless middle-aged intellectual, and Mariko, a part-time actress who’s long abandoned her ambitions with equal measures of indifference and regret, drift together in a relationship that offers animal comfort but little fulfillment.

Along with Akari, Mariko’s smug and more successful sister from Los Angeles, and Eliza, Dan’s naive student love interest, the main cast seems to map out the entirety of attachment style structure.

Dan — disorganized. Mariko — anxious, Akari — avoidant, and Eliza — secure (too young to be anything but).

The spiritual antagonist of the novel is not any one of them. It is the ubiquitous breakdown of communication itself—the adaptation to inorganic modes of communication between organic subjects; the covert and avoidant relational style born of digital malaise.

“Suzanne had once been real, flesh and blood; now she was a phone-phantom. ‘Suzanne’ wasn’t a single thing, a single form or body; she was distributed across platforms: Instagram, Facebook, Tinder, Gmail, Snap—a hive of Suzannes. And it was for this reason that a clean break-up was semi impossible: there were too many versions to break up with.”

This antagonist, transferable to any millennial or zoomer navigating love in the West, forms the tragic core of the story: the overarching pathos woven into its fabric. The characters, in turn, cannot be entirely blamed for their actions, or their inactions. They are subjects caught in its grip. This is the key to understanding not only the characters but character itself — for much of the narrative transcends storytelling (as good art often does), veering into existential and socio-philosophical terrain.

This brings me to my first point, in using some of the novel’s tactless criticisms as a platform for highlighting its strengths.

It is frustrating, as both a reader and writer, to see the merits of a book being judged solely on the likeability of its characters. This is not something entirely exclusive to "The Sleepers", to be fair, but a common reaction to many novels of the contemporary literary breed.

A one-star review on goodreads reads "—there was not a single head amongst the lot of characters that I wanted to be trapped inside. I guess I’m glad my brain doesn’t provide a continuous cycle of anxious thoughts.”

What a comment like this implies is something obvious to the current state of literature: that it’s experienced almost exclusively through the lens of how it represents the individual consuming it. And for many modern readers, that is where the depth of their experience starts and ends.

What’s really being communicated is: “This doesn’t represent me, because I’m a better person than that, therefore it is a bad book.”

Entirely, as I’ve said, the blame can’t be placed on the individual alone. They are — we all are — to a degree, subjects of contemporary culture.

But, the irony here is that, though the characters of "The Sleepers" can be viewed as narcissistic and self-serving, they are the same traits employed by those judging an entire work on the likeability of its characters.

Personally, I didn’t find any of the characters as repulsive as some made them out to be.

I found them to be perfectly human, with both pleasant and unpleasant thoughts and dispositions.

It is only because the character’s negative tendencies and intentions are revealed so bluntly — and the refusal of the author to dress them up as idealized binaries, that it has made certain people squirm, having to confront the inescapable complexities of human desire — the complexities that every individual wrestles with, whether fully realized or relegated to the unconscious.

That is why, if you hold a mirror up to a man’s face, he’ll love you for it. But if you hold it up to his soul – his inner self, he’ll despise you.

“hits too close to home.” is another review which proves such is the case, and gets to the heart of the avoidant nature, which is not only external, but internalized, of the 21st century person of the West.

One of the greatest strengths offered in the book is the narrator’s analysis of the characters' actions and environment.

“After a brief conversation with the hostess, who seemed annoyed that Akari was alone, and not with one of these incredibly buoyant groups of corporate Millennials, Akari got a seat in the corner, which felt something like punishment.”

Sharp. Neutral. Bone-dry wit.

“Maybe she would just get a coffee, except the wait staff would probably flip passive aggressive shit. She didn’t want to deal with more body language.”

Spot-on articulation on the self-consciousness and underlying tensions that exist living in a city like New York, a city that exacerbates the general malaise of its characters.

“People pretended like they weren’t watching, like they’d seen it all, like nothing fazed them, or even caught their attention, but it was a pose: the indifference New Yorkers showed toward each other highlighted their obsession with one another.”

Another gem.

Gasda’s gift for observation, for analyzing human behavioral traits, radiates throughout the entire novel.

Some readers have expressed distaste for the internal chatter, many of them revealing that the material went over their head. Personally, I struggle to understand this. I am certainly no intellectual savant, but I found the language to be more linear than it was abstract. It is not Finnegan’s Wake. Rating a book based on the inability to interpret it is cheap, as the issue has more to do with the reader than it does the quality of the book.

As the story progresses, the stakes get higher — and the tension seems to do anything but resolve itself.

One of my favorite chapters in the book is chapter six, introducing the character of Xavier, where Gasda handles the topic of death with surprising delicacy, philosophical precision, and empathy.

“He’d been to maybe fifty funerals in his life, including those of his grandparents and parents—friends, teachers, students, colleagues, lovers—and he’d never really thought, never really let himself think, about what it must have been like for them, the dead. He remembered watching his father die—even that had seemed abstract, and almost genial or benign. He remembered spouting cliches about how nice it was that his father died in his sleep, but now that he was the one dying, he understood how mind-numbingly cruel those end-of-life cliches were.”

The second and final part of the book (which is only 40 pages) calls out the mutual misery we often tolerate as love.

“Dan stamped out the cigarette with his boot and reached for her hand, which was gloved, and brushed her fingertips with his own. It had been at least a year since they had physically connected in any way. She felt nothing, but didn’t say anything; it couldn’t hurt just to be nice to him—not really.”

Without spoiling the ending, the allusions to Dan and Mariko’s fates post-separation are subtle and masterfully crafted.

Though this is a story which very much takes place in the present, it feels timeless in the subjects it tackles—issues heightened by our tools and technology — and the ironic distance it puts between us in our bids to connect.

My third and final comment on its critics is related to the prose, the syntax, the style itself.

Dispirited? Yes, but that ennui is exactly the point — it suits the content of the novel well, serving the characters and summing up their perspectives perfectly.

If you read this book, you will be entertained.

If you hate entertainment, you might enjoy the depth of its socio-philosophical commentary, its character and scene observations.

If you hate socio-philosophical commentary and character and scene observations, well… Tik Tok is only a swipe away from the goodreads app.

[Van · Rating 2 out of 5]

this kinda sucked really bad lowkey

[Falon Williams]

I normally wouldn’t bother writing a review for a book I didn’t finish, but I only got a few pages in and the writing was so egregious I have to say something. I got five pages in and couldn’t take it anymore. I could handle a book that takes itself too seriously, or one that oozes with self indulgent cynicism, but I cannot stand for men writing women poorly. Men are capable of writing from women’s perspectives, and they can write well developed female characters. Not all men though. Firstly, the female protagonist’s “sexual exploits” are mentioned as a source of pride multiple times in the first few pages. And hey! That’s reasonable, I could take that, because I’m sure this is true for some women. However, the way she thought of those sexual exploits did seem a bit… man-ish. It wouldn’t have been a major issue for me, it could even have been believable. But what made me put the book down was the way she thought about her past wlw relationship. The immediate focus was the eroticism of it, the sexual aspect of their two year relationship. Why is the immediate focus of so many depictions of queer relationships the sexuality of it?! So many times the focus of these depictions will either over sexualize it, or, ignore the sexual aspect completely to make it more “palatable” for straight people. Sex is a great part of many relationships, but the way it’s written made me feel like I’m being constantly reminded that the author is a man through the writing and descriptions. The way it’s described in this book makes me feel as though I’m viewing a queer woman’s relationship through the eyes of a man who watches lesbian p*rn to get off without caring about queer women as people as a whole. It’s fetishized. This quote was the final straw, written as the stream of thought of a bisexual woman: “Was there a difference between sensuality and narcissism? Was there a way to revel in the sensual presence of another person without giving the ego too much of what it wanted? Was it possible to lust after Suzanne without seeing her as a good to be consumed?” GROSS!!! This is such a straight cis man way of thinking. It’s like the author can’t possibly imagine not having an ego involved, not viewing sex as a conquest, not objectifying sexual partners in some capacity. Normally I would try to keep reading and approach this book in good faith. Just because a character thinks a certain way doesn’t mean it reflects the author’s views, obviously. But it’s presented in such a philosophical manner that it’s hard to overlook and continue reading. I’m sure there are some women who think this way, but this line of thought was introduced too soon in the book for it to make sense in the context of a character. I can’t tell the intention behind the writing, which leaves me wondering if this is a character trait or just how the author thinks queer women think. Honestly, I don’t care enough to find out.

Also, perhaps it is a stylistic choice to represent how streams of thought sound, but there is far too much use of parenthesis for my liking.

[Nicholas J · Rating 5 out of 5]

A totally arresting depiction of millennial malaise in the "sadness generator" of New York City, circa early autumn 2016. Here we see libidinal desire as a means of self-destruction, implosion, a way to topple the house of cards these characters live in, and which they both resent and desperately cling to even as they (consciously or unconsciously or somewhere in between) seek to destroy it – and not necessarily to build something better (parallels with the story's imminent 2016 election, perhaps). Everyone is ambitious (whether at least temporarily thwarted, as in Mariko's case, or at least partially fulfilled but terminally dissatisfying and not enough, as in Dan's) and no one is happy.

God is VERY dead and no one has found an adequate substitute – Dan has his Marxism and "radical political commitment" meant to "supplant religion," but it doesn't "do the trick", because "nothing's 'done the trick.'" And whatever actual passion or interest he once had has mostly been subsumed into a dreary and ultimately fruitless academic/culture industry careerism, and his intellect has dulled as a result. "And now this was the best he could do," Mariko (Dan's girlfriend) thinks to herself after being subjected to a particularly vacant, uninspiring political tirade by Dan.

The digitization of life, "the glossy, muscular, unstoppable flows of capital that coursed through smartphones," exacerbates everyone's alienation and more often than not enables them to heed whatever siren song they're hearing.

The prose style is simple, clean, and direct – and it serves the book quite well. Gasda is at his best when describing the roiling contradictions of his characters' internal lives, and when he has them talk to each other – the book is comprised mostly of internal and external dialogues. It's ultimately a tragedy, but Gasda manages to find some great comedy throughout his telling. And while these characters are basically broken, seriously flawed, and make horrible, selfish choices that hurt the ones they're meant to love, they are rendered so vividly and truthfully that we empathize with rather than judge them. They're broken but they're also beautiful.

I'll end with two bits toward the end of the novel – the first has stuck with me as a simple but powerful expression of the deep defeat of the human spirit and love and the ultimate, irrevocable alienation so many end up submitting to: "He felt completely at a loss about what ‘connecting’ with another person really entailed, anymore, and it seemed better if he didn’t try at all.” And:
"What's the alternative?"
"Risk everything, constantly."
"That's so romantic."
"Yeah, I'm saying: be romantic."

Read the book!

[Cheyn Shah · Rating 2 out of 5]

The Sleepers suffers from every disease it diagnoses. It is about modern-day narcissism and written entirely in the therapy-speak that enables it.

It's a book about smartphone-era disembodiment that mimics the doomscroll's sterility, its reliance on zingers and dunks rather than the steady accretion of sensual detail. It's written in a kind of cack-handed free indirect, by which the author smuggles in one-liners that are often too smart for the characters to have plausibly thought, and too banal for a benevolent narrator to keep imposing on us.

Perhaps all this is deliberate, to defamiliarize doomscroll-English and remind us how awful it is - if so, it succeeds, but only by failing as a novel.

The prose reads like fanfiction at times. There's little melody or rhythm. Not much sense of place; I was also in NYC in the post-Cronut, pre-Trump interregnum and felt this book could have been in Indianapolis. 

No variation.

Interminable one-sentence micro-paragraphs. Aims for gnomic terseness, La Rochefoucauld; often achieves LLM banality, LinkedIn.

Long swathes of the book are written in this way.

No lightness of touch. The author is writing about mediocre people, people self-aware enough to understand their tactics are failing them, and timid enough to refuse to change. They are voodoo dolls, created to be punished. The best way to get away with this act of imaginative bad faith is to be funny about them, or gentle with them. The author isn't.

However -

Gasda is sometimes an excellent aphorist. And the book is honest, which covers a multitude of sins. The failures of people like Dan, Mariko and Akari are not well explored in literary fiction, because people like Dan, Mariko and Akari write most of it, and read all of it. Gasda has their number. The fear of aging, the mild anhedonia, the endless procrastination on work and love, the empty politics - you know someone like this and if you don't, it's you.

There is a kind of fearlessness in writing Dan as pathetic as he is. And there is a great scene in this book with Xavier, a kind of unfettered, authentic Culture-Chad. His aesthetic commitments make him a superior man, but fail to compensate for his lack of human ones.

I can't honestly recommend this book, but I also found it moving, well-observed, and read it in a single sitting. 

[Celeste Amidon · Rating 2 out of 5]

I think people write books too quickly these days.

In many ways, this novel has lots of potential, but the execution feels slapdash. There are interesting ideas and characters abound here, and I can't help but think that if Gasda had just sat with them for a while, he could have created something profound and interesting, instead of milquetoast, transparent, and forgettable.

The Sleepers follows four millennials in 2016 NYC as their lives intersect in various ways. Gasda, a playwright, writes self-consciously realistic dialogue. Sometimes it works. Oftentimes, it doesn't. If the predilection towards "um" and "like" in his dialogue doesn't make his trade apparent, his inability to write natural interiority surely does. The Sleepers is bursting with the kind of self-pathologization I hate the most, stripping any moment of real, human authenticity. The characters are so acutely aware of their own failings, issues, psychology, that one does start to wonder: why can't you, um, like, get your life in order, then?

Some other quibbles: the lack of proofreading drove me fucking insane!!!! Surely, a book like this shouldn't be riddled with errors. Also, for a playwright, Gasda really struggles to stage direct his characters. So many times, I was utterly confused by the choreography of a scene. Characters would appear in illogical rooms, etc.

Damn. Did I hate this book?

No. I didn't. There are moments of beauty in it, a great reveal at the end, and it does say some true things about New York. I wish that Gasda had spent more serious time working on it (as I have no choice but to imagine he did not). This novel could have been special, I think.

[Kathryn Siemer · Rating 2 out of 5]

Rating: 2 stars

The Sleepers sort of reminds me of a modern, grown-up version of The Catcher in the Rye. Like Holden Caulfield, the main characters of The Sleepers are anxious, somewhat (or very) annoying, and filled with existential dread. One key difference: The Sleepers doesn't pull off the character study of unlikeable characters very well. The four main characters sort of blend together. Maybe Gasda did that on purpose; maybe he was trying to show a common Millennial sense of existential dread. If that were his point, he could have shown it better by making the main characters more varied. As it is, their backgrounds, ambitions, insecurities, and self-destructive tendencies are just too similar to make that point very meaningful.

I also wasn't a fan of the way everything wrapped up in the last couple chapters. Most of the book took place over the span of a couple days, but the very end jumped forward years in time for seemingly no reason. I guess Gasda was trying to show how the characters moved past this existential crisis, but because he only devoted a few pages to the developments, it fell flat. Gasda should have kept the ending up-in-the-air, letting the readers fill in the blanks and reflect on their own modern anxieties.

I didn't hate the book, but I found it ambiguous and not very compelling. The Sleepers just takes itself too seriously, and not in a good way.

[dani B) · Rating 4 out of 5]

this story was very unique to me, i requested it cause it was set in my city. the novel dissects the contradictions between identity, ambition, and desire. set in New York’s cultural and intellectual circles, it follows four characters whose carefully curated lives start to unravel in ways they never expected.

Dan, a leftist academic and blogger, risks his career and credibility for an affair with his student. his partner, Mariko, a struggling actor, reconnects with an old flame—her dying mentor and former director. meanwhile, Mariko’s sister, Akari, a cinematographer visiting from LA, navigates a volatile relationship with a younger woman *SO MUCH DRAMA* so, the four of them chases success and fulfillment, yet all find themselves caught in self-deception, compromising the ideals they claim to uphold.

prose is sleek and unflinching, pulling the reader into the emotional turbulence of characters who are both deeply flawed and painfully real. there's no moralizing here—just an honest, razor-sharp look at a generation torn between the personas they project and the messy, complicated realities they live. it was a very thought-provoking read—one that lingers long after the final page. the author delivers a striking meditation on ambition, self-delusion, and the weight of our choices in a world that demands both authenticity and performance.

4 stars. writing was beautiful.

[laura trimas · Rating 3 out of 5]

four people in new york, all caught in their own complicated dynamics. a teacher pursuing his student. his girlfriend wrapped up in her own affair. her sister dealing with her own relationship struggles. their lives inevitably collide in unexpected ways.

i love books that explore the human condition and the messy ways people navigate each other. that said, i found myself getting distracted at times and struggled to stay fully immersed. still, the concept worked for me and i would recommend it if you enjoy character-driven stories about the chaos of everyday life.

thank you netgalley for the arc as alwaysss ❤️ !!!!

3.5 stars

[Ryan Brandenburg · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC of this upcoming novel.

I stumbled upon an Instagram post that piqued my interest, and I decided to request a copy of the book. And let me tell you, it was an absolute delight! The writing style reminded me of Sally Rooney, but in some parts, it was even more captivating. The complex characters immediately drew me in, and I couldn’t wait to discover their journeys. The intricate plot that intertwined between each character kept me turning the pages, and I finished it in a single day. I highly recommend this book and will definitely be checking out Matthew Gasda’s backlist next!

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

[Sofia Celeste · Rating 2 out of 5]

Thank you NetGalley and Arcade for am ARC of this book!

“The Sleepers” chronicles a brief period of time for 4 people living in New York. As the narrative develops, their lives intersect and change. Through each character’s choices and plot, the reader gets clued in to the disconnect between beliefs and action.

Ultimately, I thought that the plot of this book was quite effective, but the writing style was disjointed and flat. I found that the flow from character to character was a little broken, which took me out of the reading experience.

[Patty Ramirez · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book was wild! I even enjoyed the long chapters at the beginning (even though it is not my favorite thing) because the storytelling was so engaging. The story follows 4 characters and their intertwining stories.

I loved the writing on this, even though I wished we'd gotten more of a story on Akari (the last chapter felt like it had too many things happening and I felt that some questions were left unanswered).

Overall, I loved this book and can't wait to read more from this author!

Thank you to the publisher and author for providing a free copy of this book through NetGalley.

[Sara · Rating 4 out of 5]

"What I see are two lonely, aging Millennials who couldn't figure out how to enjoy the consumption lifestyle together."

I really liked the mood of this book, and honestly it made me think about how addicted I am to staring at a screen. How often am I in the moment with the people I love? I also really like how he hammered home the idea that we're not the same people online as we are offline. Not an original idea, but worded in such a way to make it unique and hurt to re-realize.

That being said, I was kinda weirded out by all the descriptive shitting/pissing people were doing.

[Damien Edwards · Rating 3 out of 5]

The main characters were so painfully millenial. There are certain readers who would be obsessed with characters like this; it simply wasn't for me. The dialogue was extemely modern and realistic which many people will likely find enjoyable. They were self-aware in the way that most people in their 20s/30s are nowadays. None of it really worked for me, but I really do think other readers would enjoy it. I'm certainly curious to see what this author might write next.

[hus · Rating 3 out of 5]

3 stars

Four people in New York, wrapped in quiet chaos—affairs, emotional baggage, and messy relationships. The Sleepers is a slow, introspective look at how people drift in and out of each other’s lives. I liked the themes and the emotional depth, but it was hard to stay fully awake through all the wandering thoughts. Still, it worked in its own hazy way. A good pick if you’re into character studies and don’t mind a little literary drowsiness.

[Brandon Ferguson · Rating 3 out of 5]

Captures The millennial experience in a special way at times but feels quite specific to new York and a type of experience. Chapters are extremely long so it yields a quick reading but I didn’t enjoy spending time with the characters all that much.

The marriage/relationship stuff works best for me.