THIS IS HOW WE CHANGE THE ENDING

A bright young man searches for a way out.

Like too many disadvantaged youths, 16-year-old Aussie Nate McKee feels trapped by circumstances beyond his control. Shuffling between run-down government housing, school, and YouthWorks (a local teen center), he finds little comfort beyond memorizing scientific facts and recording scraps of thought in notebooks. He tiptoes around his father, Declan, who struggles with alcoholism and gambles away the money he makes growing hydroponic weed. He fears for his kindhearted 24-year-old stepmother, Nance, and 3-year-old twin half brothers—Jake, who behaves more like Dec each day, and Otis, who shows signs of both cognitive and physical delays. He’s unsure what to do when his relationship with his best friend, Merrick, goes south; when Tash, another YouthWorks teen, emblazons a phrase from Nate’s notebook in graffiti; or when Mr. Reid, his English teacher, tries to reach out to help him. Wakefield’s characterization combines a knack for subverting stereotypes with empathy and nuance: Every character, major or minor, boasts at least two unexpected dimensions. The resulting coming-of-age story is at once poignant and piss-stained, droll and dreary. This is no bootstraps bible but an optimistic assertion that some individuals can break the cycles of poverty, toxic masculinity, and apathy with sustained effort and mutual support. All characters are assumed white.

A little bit Holden Caulfield, a little bit Will Hunting, and a whole lot of heart.