THE CELEBRANTS

A privileged but somewhat diverse group of friends support each other in a profound way through their early to middle adulthood.

Meeting first as misfit transfer students in their sophomore year at Berkeley, Marielle, Naomi, Craig, the Jordans (a gay couple), and Alec quickly become family to each other. But Alec, the wildest, dies of an overdose two weeks before graduation, leaving the others bereft and confused. After Alec’s funeral, Marielle convinces them to join in an unusual pact to celebrate each other: At any time of their choosing, each can call on the others to gather for their own “funeral” during which they get to be celebrated, loved, and supported while still alive. The book covers the “funerals” of Marielle, Naomi, and Craig at different crisis points in their lives over the next 30 years. Hanging over the proceedings are two things, one of which is always present for the characters: the trauma of Alec’s death. The other is the novel’s present-day framing, in which one of the Jordans has terminal prostate cancer, and his husband (now Jordy for distinction) is nudging him to trigger the pact and tell the group. There is an updated Big Chill quality to it all, hitting many of the same sweet and melancholy notes around aging, death, love, and the shorthand old friends have with each other. This particular group’s lingua franca is quite tart—they trade in jabs, cynicism, and intellectualism—but over time it becomes clear how much they value each other, even when old secrets get revealed and dynamics shift. Rowley peppers biographical details evenly through the book, making it initially hard to get a good grasp on the friends’ individual personalities, though they come into better focus over time. Occasionally their dialogue and misadventures are downright hilarious.

A touch wiseacre but more wise.