~Editor's Pick~
Seventeen-year-old Blue Lannigan believes in exactly one thing: his two younger brothers deserve more than the crappy apartment and abusive, drunken mother they’re stuck with. And when he comes home to find one brother bruised and bleeding (again), the other cowering in terror (again) and their mother drunk off her ass, blaming all three of them for her tanked singing career (again), Blue decides waiting until he’s 18 to leave is no longer an option.
Deciding to hole up in an empty house at the lake until Blue can figure out what to do next, things get more complicated when the owner of the house arrives unexpectedly. Especially when Blue realizes the unconscious woman they’ve tied up on the couch isn’t a stranger after all, but someone who could give him just what he’s looking for.
After avoiding reality and playing house, a scene at the grocery store lands him in handcuffs and his brothers with a social worker. Add to that losing his job and being stuck in a group home he hates, and Blue’s sole purpose becomes finding his brothers and getting them out of whatever hellhole they’re in. Blue’s hopes unravel, and betrayal rips his heart in two as he tries to reconcile the role he plays in his brothers’ lives while trying to figure out his own.
REVIEWS:
"I truly have no idea where to start with this review. My heart is just well and truly broken after reading this book....
Standing Too Close is a book I couldn’t put down. I was spiralling page after page after page. It was a hard hitter, that’s for sure -
Occult Library Co
"I wholeheartedly recommend this book to readers aged 17 and above who are in search of a contemporary novel that not only entertains but also sheds light on the myriad struggles faced by children and families navigating the turbulent waters of addiction and familial strife. "Standing Too Close" is not just a story; it is a mirror reflecting the resilience of the human spirit in the face of adversity."
- Mikayla's Bookish Creatives
"
Standing Too Close is a heartfelt book that highlights the importance of community and letting others help you when things get overwhelming for you to handle on your own. This book highlights Blue’s strength on his own as he navigates caring for his brothers, while also showcasing how much Blue was able to accomplish when others stepped in to help him." -
Unconventional Quirky Bibliophile
EXCERPT:
Mom’s dancing when I get back to the living room. She clutches the bottle of bourbon in one fist as she sways to the music. When the verse begins, she raises the bottle to her mouth like a microphone and starts singing into it.
I stand in the doorway for a second, watching.
From the speakers, my mother’s voice blazes out, the strong pure alto I remember from sitting proudly at the side of stage after stage. The voice that won her awards and accolades, got her offers of movie roles and sold-out stadiums.
What comes from my mother’s mouth now is ragged and raw. She can still hit the notes, but there’s no purity now. Her voice is a hoarse, ruined parody of what’s playing through the speakers. Like the way she still dresses the same way she did; dresses which flowed around her narrow frame now cling snugly to her drink-bloated stomach, strain across her hips.
She spins around and takes a swig from her “microphone”, staggering backward as she does. Her heel catches the edge of the rug and she falls, crashing onto the coffee table on her ass. It cracks under her and dumps her to the ground amid a cascade of old magazines.
I wince.
“Ooopsy daisy!” Mom catches sight of me in the doorway and drags herself up, leaning heavily on the ruined furniture. “Mommy’s clumsy today.”
“Mommy’s drunk,” I say. “As usual.”
“I’m not drunk, baby boy.” Mom sways on her feet and looks blearily around for her bottle. She finds it under the magazines, empty now, the remaining bourbon soaking into the filthy carpet.
“No?" I watch her shaking the bottle over her mouth, trying to get any last liquor out. “Looks that way to me.”
“You worry too much. I’m fine, Bluebell. I’m celebratin’”
Celebrating? What the hell does she have to celebrate? Kicking the shit out of Sage? Terrifying Wiley so much he barely speaks? “Don’t call me Bluebell.”
“Oh, I forgot. My baby boy is too big for pet names.”
I roll my eyes but ignore it. There are more important things to deal with. “It’s bedtime,” I say, tugging the bottle away from her and setting it on the broken table. “You’ve had enough.”
“Darlin’,” she snarls, leaping away from me. “I haven’t even started yet.”
She reaches into the stereo cabinet and pulls out another bottle, this one smaller and slimmer. She unscrews the cap and takes a healthy belt. “Damn. That’s the stuff. Here.” She holds the bottle out to me. “Have a drink, baby. You know I don’t like to drink alone.”
I take the bottle, but don’t take a sip. For someone who doesn’t like drinking by herself, she spends a lot of time doing it. Like, every day. All day. Since giving up singing, drinking has been her career.
Who am I kidding? She never gave up singing. People just didn’t want to listen to her anymore.
