Jennette McCurdy, the former child star whose 2022 memoir I'm Glad My Mom Died became a sensational bestseller, has now unleashed her debut work of fiction. Half His Age continues her unflinching exploration of family dysfunction and psychological damage, this time through the lens of a bleak yet often hilarious novel.
From Memoir to Masterful Fiction
McCurdy's memoir ignited a global conversation about narcissistic parents, eating disorders, and the lasting impact of childhood abuse. Her new book, published by 4th Estate at £16.99, proves her talent extends beyond confessional writing into sharp, textured fiction. The novel centres on Waldo, a disassociated high school senior whose identity has been eroded by her chaotic mother.
The relationship is portrayed as a toxic enmeshment, with boundaries blurred since childhood. McCurdy writes the mother as a grand guignol figure, whose damaging advice—like instructing a five-year-old Waldo on seduction—leaves invisible wounds. Waldo's home life is an emotional wasteland, punctuated by Post-It notes and microwave meals, which she numbs with a compulsive online shopping addiction.
A Descent into Uneven Power Dynamics
Running on empty, Waldo fixates on her married English teacher, Mr Korgy—a failed writer and self-pitying man trapped in his own life. McCurdy crafts their dynamic with uncomfortable precision, oscillating between father-daughter roleplay and a twisted Pygmalion narrative. The writing is savage yet humane, detailing Waldo's mix of lust and disgust with gleeful, tragicomic energy.
The power imbalance is central, with McCurdy linking Waldo's masochistic pursuit to a desperate illusion of control. Their intimate scenes are a masterclass in tension, building to a final encounter that shifts tone from body horror to French farce. The affair acts as another addiction, a desperate attempt to feel anything amidst her numbness.
A Triumph in Trauma Narrative
Half His Age is ultimately a triumph. It confirms McCurdy's singular ability to focus on the multi-layered nature of trauma and artfully unpick it, one scab at a time. While bleak, the novel is shot through with piercing one-liners and a sitcom-worthy sense of the absurd, making it a compelling and uncomfortably funny read. It solidifies McCurdy's transition from child star to a serious, vital literary voice examining the darkest corners of family legacy and personal survival.
