This book is deceptive. Early on there's a bit of name dropping. Designer names (Jimmy Choo?). Celebrity names (Rupert Everett? Rufus Wainwright?) - making it pretty easy to imagine that this is going to be just another "fabulous, frothy romp through the glittering world of gay New York." The queer version of chick-lit, if you will. "(Homo)Sex in the City." But not so. This tale of a recent Yale grad and aspiring writer trying to make his mark in the big city is actually a quite thoughtful and charming coming of age story. Sort of a gay bildungsroman for the new Millennium.
Toby Griffin, the protagonist, is a complex and fully realized character, a classic unreliable narrator who still manages to win the reader's sympathies despite his frequent misinterpretations, self-delusions and occasional blunders. Dolby has created a young man who we root for and, ultimately, one that we admire.
The book is told in first person narrative, with Toby relating his own story, except for Chapter Three, which, in a rather odd literary device, is told in third person. The reason given is that this Toby, the one who endures this particular, rather unsettling, experience, seemed like "...another person, another Toby Griffin." Although not problematic as such, this departure would have been even more effective if Dolby had chosen to use it again during (or immediately after) the book's decisive episode, a car accident that marks the turning point in Toby's fortunes and, more importantly, the point at which he must choose between right and wrong. It would have been the ideal way to illustrate how people can divorce themselves from poor or harmful choices in order to feel free of guilt. But this is a quibble on my part.
I enjoyed The Trouble Boy quite a bit. I think it has something for almost everyone. A bit of glamour. A few thinly disguised New York celebrity types that you'll almost, but not quite, recognize. A little sex. A little romance. A fair amount of wit and a whole lot of heart.