LAST OF THE FAMOUS INTERNATIONAL PLAYBOYS

In this novel, a young man muddles through tragedy and euphoria as he attempts to understand his place in the world.

It’s 1992 and Spencer Mazio has made a mess of things. As he tries to figure out how to wiggle out of his latest bout of trouble, the narrative jumps back to 1988, when he has arrived as a freshman at Yale University. Standing in line to sort out his overdue tuition payments, he meets Jonathon Vandershar III, an heir to a vast fortune who quickly takes Spencer under his wing and introduces him to drugs, booze, and the advantages of owning your own helicopter. Spencer was recruited by Yale to play on the baseball team but suffers from what he calls “the Dread,” a darkness that rears its head as either depression or uncontrollable anger: “The Dread is a shape-shifty thing made of shadow, so I never know what form it will take or what it might do to me.” After starting a brawl on the baseball field during practice, Spencer finds himself in the Yale infirmary, where he meets the idealistic and upbeat John Henry. The two become fast friends, even as Spencer starts an illegal sports gambling ring that threatens his future at Yale and his job offer at Goldman Sachs. As the chapters toggle between the past and present, readers catch a glimpse of both the quiet times and momentous shifts—along with a memorable cast of characters, including Jonathon and John Henry, who slip in and out of Spencer’s life—that help shape the protagonist. From a stay at the Widworth mental hospital and ill-fated affairs to a devastating betrayal and a tragic family history that he can’t bring himself to share, Spencer struggles to find what—and who—will bring him true happiness.

Spencer’s narration of his travails as a young man, veering between hopelessly depressing and delightfully sardonic moments, will likely remind some readers of a 1990s Holden Caulfield (complete with the occasional foul language). Spencer’s observations about those around him can be surprisingly insightful: “A few years ago Town & Country dubbed them American Royalty, but as far as I could tell, the Vandershars were all just completely unreliable.” But that kind of capacity makes it all the more frustrating in the frequent scenes in which he is unable to apply the gift to himself. Still, inability is what makes Spencer such a compelling narrator—his desperate attempt to escape childhood is one that will be familiar to many. The tale’s dialogue flows at an impressive pace, with lightning-quick conversations broken up by enough muted observations by Spencer to slow it all down: “The whole town seemed vertical, rising up from a small yacht-filled harbor into wooded hills, and the buildings were all colored like the sherbets Papa and I used to eat when I was a kid—orange Creamsicle stacked on top of pink lemonade stacked on top of pomegranate sunrise stacked on top of lemon meringue.” Lenain has crafted an emotional, well-balanced novel that ultimately reminds readers that everyone has an engaging story to tell.

A wry, sensitive portrayal of the roiling turbulence of youth in all its messiness.