Half His Age
A Novel
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Half His Age
Narrated by:
Jennette McCurdy
Buy Now for €14.99
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Narrated by:
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Jennette McCurdy
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By:
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Jennette McCurdy
“Unapologetic and undeniable . . . If there was ever any doubt whether the narrative command that Jennette McCurdy displayed in her bestselling memoir I’m Glad My Mom Died might translate to fiction, let it henceforth be put to rest.”—Elle
Waldo is ravenous. Horny. Blunt. Naive. Wise. Impulsive. Lonely. Angry. Forceful. Hurting. Perceptive. Endlessly wanting. And the thing she wants most of all: Mr. Korgy, her creative writing teacher with the wife and the kid and the mortgage and the bills, with the dead dreams and the atrophied looks and the growing paunch. She doesn’t know why she wants him. Is it his passion? His life experience? The fact that he knows books and films and things that she doesn’t? Or is it purer than that, rooted in their unlikely connection, their kindred spirits, the similar filter with which they each take in the world around them? Or, perhaps, it’s just enough that he sees her when no one else does.
Startlingly perceptive, mordantly funny, and keenly poignant, Half His Age is a rich character study of a yearning seventeen-year-old who disregards all obstacles—or attempts to overcome them—in her effort to be seen, to be desired, to be loved.
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Half His Age is uncomfortable by design, and it works. Mr. Korgy gave me the ick from page one, and I spent the whole book waiting for the other shoe to drop. The protagonist? Detached, self-absorbed, and orbiting a carousel of coping mechanisms (shopping, sex, fantasy) trying to feel alive. Not a single character felt “likeable,” but watching the psychological unraveling was oddly compelling.
The explicit content feels excessive at times, but it doubles as a warning sign of obsession and blurred boundaries. Predictable in parts, yes, but executed with precision, as the kind of story you can’t stop listening to, even when it makes you cringe.
Provocative, unsettling, and darkly fascinating. While I admired the craft, I just didn’t connect emotionally.
Ick, Obsession and Psychological Cringe
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