The First Bad Man: A Novel

Cheryl Glickman has a system that holds her world together. It’s neat, disciplined and peculiar just like she is, until her bosses’ young and stunning albeit aggressive daughter, Clee, moves in, upending everything. Or maybe this bombshell of a roommate is exactly the makeover her isolated, coordinated life needed. Together, they’re forced to face their deep-set desires and the violent, predominant need to connect with someone—something, anything—humming within us all. Honest, uncomfortable and desperate in the most groundbreaking way, this is a story that disrupts and exposes.

It stands on its own, vivid and breathtaking. Remarkable. Blatant. There is nothing else like it. The rhythm of each sentence embraces a sense of obsession and apprehension. The fearlessness, the urgency, the feverish love written here mirrors the frantic inner workings of every mind. These pages threaten the unspoken agreement between the different roles we think we have to play—parent, child, lover—and interchanges them. I was mesmerized as the author confronted motherhood, sexuality, and the human condition with such originality and vulnerability.