Something Might Fall

"This is Flusfeder's masterpiece." —Julie Myerson

New York City 1970: Emma Hoffman is the great party-giver of the Upper West Side. She's a writer, wife, mother, hostess, guest, trying to excel and trying to find a way through the agonies and complacencies of it all – because at any moment something might fall, perhaps herself. Four years later, her son is going out alone into the streets of Manhattan on his eleventh birthday, to make himself new, and prove to be worthy of the birthday letters he continues to receive from his lost, soaring mother.

Something Might Fall is a kind of historical fiction, set in a moment when women's literary voices were being heard in a new, confessional, intimate way, but the conditions of those writers' relationships and their domestic obligations were not so different from those of their mothers. The first part, which swoops and stutters between Emma Hoffman and her husband, Dr Nicholas Sawyer, is about a woman at the edge of herself and is also an account of a marriage, embodying two consciousnesses in a mutual misunderstanding and disappointment and hope and sometimes magic. The second part is limited to just one point of view, of their son Nicky, the living in aftermath, exploring Manhattan on his own on the occasion of his eleventh birthday.

What an exquisite piece of writing – so beautiful, poignant and wise – a tour de force.

(on previous work) (On John the Pupil) Flusfeder just keeps getting better and better.



(on previous work) (On John the Pupil) Plunges the 21st-century reader into a world where very little is recognisable. The fact that Flusfeder achieves this so triumphantly is highly impressive.



(on previous work) (On Luck) Ruminative … page-turning.



(on previous work) (On Luck) Thrilling, intelligent and wilfully unique … I loved it.



(on previous work) (On Luck) Fascinating … An eminently enjoyable and engrossing page-turner.



(on previous work) (On A Film by Spencer Ludwig) A joy to read.



(on previous work) (On A Film by Spencer Ludwig) It's a road movie, it's a tender dialogue between parents and children, it's wonderfully embarrassing about how artists think about their art, but it also has the mark of great fiction: it feels like it has existed forever.



(on previous work) (On The Gift) Piercingly well-written … can be read as a psychological thriller, a meditation on the barrenness of modern, material life, or just a funny novel.



(on previous work) (On The Pagan House) Madly brilliant, hilarious and sometimes tender portrait of adolescent angst. weniger anzeigen expand_less