GOING HOME

In the suburbs of London, two young men and one much older man end up caring for a toddler—or trying to.

This debut novel from journalist Lamont begins with an unusual, original premise. Téodor Erskine is home from London for the weekend to visit his ailing father, Vic, and spend a little quality time in the pub with childhood friends. As he has in the past, he calls Lia Woods, his dear friend and longtime crush, with an offer to babysit her 2-and-a-half-year-old son, Joel, hoping it will lead to a more adult get-together afterwards. This time it leads to something else entirely, and Téo becomes the interim caretaker for the child, whose paternity is unknown. Well, unknown to Téo, anyway—his friend Ben Mossam and even his poor old dad know the truth. There is so much to love about this book, foremost the poignantly, sometimes painfully detailed portrait of 30-something guys learning to take care of a child with no woman in sight. Joel himself—his way of speaking, his tantrums, his predilections, his memory—is one of the most vivid fictional children since Jack in Room. The whole lot of them are Jewish, not very religious but strongly identified, as typified by the wild boozer and all-night poker player Ben, who always wears a yarmulke. Their synagogue has a new rabbi, a woman named Sibyl Challis, who is also the best rabbi character in recent memory, both in her idea of embracing “gut Jews, Jews who would not be recognised as Jewish anywhere else, Jews by deed and affinity, those who only felt an inexplicable conviction they belonged,” and in her unexpected, intense crush on one of the other characters. But unfortunately, she fails to stop Vic from a betrayal with harsh results.

A great premise, a great story, but most of all, great characters.