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I'm the Undertow: A Novel
Not yet published
Expected 5 May 26A haunting and tender debut about guilt, grief, and the unexpected places we go to find redemption.
When thirty-year-old Conner Robbins hits and kills a cyclist, no one blames him—a freak accident, they say. But he can’t stop blaming himself. Conner is consumed by guilt, and begins to shut himself off from the people who care about him, risking his closest relationships and a career he no longer feels he deserves.
In the weeks following the accident, Conner finds an unexpected sense of solace in an unlikely a budding friendship with Lauren, the mother of the young man he killed. But as their connection deepens, they begin to neglect the people and responsibilities in their own lives. Now, both Conner and Lauren must confront the truth about their relationship: is it a path toward healing, or are they simply prolonging the pain?
Tender, intimate, and emotionally resonant, I'm the Undertow is a stunning debut about guilt, grace, and the complicated ways we try to move forward after loss.
When thirty-year-old Conner Robbins hits and kills a cyclist, no one blames him—a freak accident, they say. But he can’t stop blaming himself. Conner is consumed by guilt, and begins to shut himself off from the people who care about him, risking his closest relationships and a career he no longer feels he deserves.
In the weeks following the accident, Conner finds an unexpected sense of solace in an unlikely a budding friendship with Lauren, the mother of the young man he killed. But as their connection deepens, they begin to neglect the people and responsibilities in their own lives. Now, both Conner and Lauren must confront the truth about their relationship: is it a path toward healing, or are they simply prolonging the pain?
Tender, intimate, and emotionally resonant, I'm the Undertow is a stunning debut about guilt, grace, and the complicated ways we try to move forward after loss.
Kindle Edition
Expected publication May 5, 2026
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
Thank you to NetGalley, the author and Central Avenue Publishing for providing me with an advance review copy of I’m the Undertow by Eric Scot Tryon. I truly appreciate the opportunity to read and review this powerful and emotionally resonant debut ahead of publication.
I’m grateful for the chance to engage with such a thoughtful exploration of guilt, grief, and healing, and for the continued support NetGalley and the author offer to readers and reviewers in bringing meaningful stories to a broader audience.
I’m the Undertow is a quiet, devastating debut that doesn’t rely on shock or spectacle to leave a mark. Instead, it sinks in slowly, much like grief itself, pulling the reader into an emotionally intimate exploration of guilt, loss, and the messy, uncomfortable ways people search for redemption.
The novel opens with a moment that changes everything. Thirty-year-old Conner Robbins is involved in a tragic accident that kills a cyclist. No one blames him. It’s ruled a freak accident. Life, technically, is supposed to move on. But Conner can’t let himself off the hook. His guilt is all-consuming, corrosive, and isolating, and Tryon captures this internal collapse with brutal honesty. Conner doesn’t spiral loudly; he withdraws, detaches, and quietly sabotages his relationships and career because he no longer feels worthy of them.
What sets this book apart is the unexpected and morally complex relationship that forms next. In the weeks following the accident, Conner strikes up a connection with Lauren, the mother of the young man who died. On paper, this sounds impossible, maybe even inappropriate, but the author handles it with remarkable sensitivity. Their bond isn’t sensationalised or romanticised; it’s fragile, raw, and deeply human. They recognise something broken in each other, and that shared pain becomes both a refuge and a risk.
As their friendship deepens, the novel asks uncomfortable questions. Can two people who share the same trauma truly help each other heal? Or can grief, when mirrored, become a place to hide rather than a path forward? Watching Conner and Lauren slowly neglect their own lives and responsibilities is painful but believable. The book never offers easy answers, and that restraint is one of its greatest strengths.
Stylistically, the writing is tender and restrained. Tryon doesn’t over-explain emotions or manipulate the reader into feeling something dramatic. Instead, the prose is intimate and understated, allowing small moments, silences, unfinished conversations, and internal hesitations to carry emotional weight. The result is a story that feels deeply personal, almost confessional at times.
This is not a fast-paced or plot-driven novel. Readers looking for dramatic twists or tidy resolutions may find it slow. But for those who appreciate character-driven, emotionally resonant storytelling, I’m the Undertow delivers something far more lasting. It understands that grief isn’t linear, healing isn’t clean, and redemption rarely arrives in the ways we expect.
Overall, I’m the Undertow is a haunting and compassionate debut about guilt, grace, and the difficult work of moving forward after loss. It’s a novel that sits with you quietly, heavily long after the final page, asking you to consider how we live with the things we cannot undo.
I’m grateful for the chance to engage with such a thoughtful exploration of guilt, grief, and healing, and for the continued support NetGalley and the author offer to readers and reviewers in bringing meaningful stories to a broader audience.
I’m the Undertow is a quiet, devastating debut that doesn’t rely on shock or spectacle to leave a mark. Instead, it sinks in slowly, much like grief itself, pulling the reader into an emotionally intimate exploration of guilt, loss, and the messy, uncomfortable ways people search for redemption.
The novel opens with a moment that changes everything. Thirty-year-old Conner Robbins is involved in a tragic accident that kills a cyclist. No one blames him. It’s ruled a freak accident. Life, technically, is supposed to move on. But Conner can’t let himself off the hook. His guilt is all-consuming, corrosive, and isolating, and Tryon captures this internal collapse with brutal honesty. Conner doesn’t spiral loudly; he withdraws, detaches, and quietly sabotages his relationships and career because he no longer feels worthy of them.
What sets this book apart is the unexpected and morally complex relationship that forms next. In the weeks following the accident, Conner strikes up a connection with Lauren, the mother of the young man who died. On paper, this sounds impossible, maybe even inappropriate, but the author handles it with remarkable sensitivity. Their bond isn’t sensationalised or romanticised; it’s fragile, raw, and deeply human. They recognise something broken in each other, and that shared pain becomes both a refuge and a risk.
As their friendship deepens, the novel asks uncomfortable questions. Can two people who share the same trauma truly help each other heal? Or can grief, when mirrored, become a place to hide rather than a path forward? Watching Conner and Lauren slowly neglect their own lives and responsibilities is painful but believable. The book never offers easy answers, and that restraint is one of its greatest strengths.
Stylistically, the writing is tender and restrained. Tryon doesn’t over-explain emotions or manipulate the reader into feeling something dramatic. Instead, the prose is intimate and understated, allowing small moments, silences, unfinished conversations, and internal hesitations to carry emotional weight. The result is a story that feels deeply personal, almost confessional at times.
This is not a fast-paced or plot-driven novel. Readers looking for dramatic twists or tidy resolutions may find it slow. But for those who appreciate character-driven, emotionally resonant storytelling, I’m the Undertow delivers something far more lasting. It understands that grief isn’t linear, healing isn’t clean, and redemption rarely arrives in the ways we expect.
Overall, I’m the Undertow is a haunting and compassionate debut about guilt, grace, and the difficult work of moving forward after loss. It’s a novel that sits with you quietly, heavily long after the final page, asking you to consider how we live with the things we cannot undo.
Review of advance copy
Amazing from start to finish. I couldn't put this book down. The characters are deep and thought provoking, both likable and frustrating all at the same time. Truly masterful work by Tryon.
For a debut novel, the writing shows the care and craft of a seasoned veteran. Tryon paints such a vivid picture of a sleepy town that I felt as though I had spent my entire life there. His imagery is delicate and delightful, drawing the reader fully into the setting and atmosphere without ever feeling forced.
When I reached the final pages, I found myself wanting more. For me, that is the clearest sign of a great novel. I Am the Undertow lingers long after you finish it. I cannot wait to see what E.S.T. comes up with next.
For a debut novel, the writing shows the care and craft of a seasoned veteran. Tryon paints such a vivid picture of a sleepy town that I felt as though I had spent my entire life there. His imagery is delicate and delightful, drawing the reader fully into the setting and atmosphere without ever feeling forced.
When I reached the final pages, I found myself wanting more. For me, that is the clearest sign of a great novel. I Am the Undertow lingers long after you finish it. I cannot wait to see what E.S.T. comes up with next.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
The writing is atmospheric and introspective, focusing less on action and more on emotional depth. Characters feel raw and flawed, making their struggles feel real, though the pacing can be slow at times. It’s a book that lingers, leaving you unsettled and reflective rather than neatly resolved.
Overall: A dark, thought-provoking read best suited for readers who enjoy psychological depth and emotional complexity over fast-paced plot.
Overall: A dark, thought-provoking read best suited for readers who enjoy psychological depth and emotional complexity over fast-paced plot.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
fantastically well-written and unique book focused on the aftereffects of a tragic accident on both the other party and the family of the victim. 5 stars. tysm for the arc.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews