In Becker’s debut novel, a drug-dealing teen makes a series of bad decisions in 1980s Las Vegas.

As the story begins, 14-year-old Brady Wilks expects to spend his upcoming summer partying and playing Dungeons & Dragons with his next-door neighbor Mick. He also plans to engage in low-level drug dealing at the behest of Mick’s friend Alex, who supplies their neighborhood in suburban Las Vegas. Along the way, he also plans to avoid his own mother, with whom he has a difficult relationship. His summer takes a few unexpected turns, though: For one thing, he meets Cheryl, a recent high school graduate; for another, Alex decides to branch out into heroin, which had previously been part of the boys’ world only when they mourned comedian John Belushi’s recent death. Brady soon becomes infatuated with Cheryl, who thinks he’s several years older than he is, and he has little patience for Alex, whom he doesn’t trust. However, he agrees to provide backup firepower for Alex—wielding guns illicitly borrowed from a shop owned by another friend’s father—at a meetup with cartel members in the Nevada desert. Things don’t go as planned, but Brady doesn’t make a complete break from Mick’s entourage until he’s confronted with a problem that involves someone he truly cares about. He ends the summer with a new awareness of himself, his family, and the difficulty of making the right choices.

This bleak but not entirely hopeless coming-of-age novel offers plenty of elements that will keep readers engaged. The book’s 1980s setting is well developed but handled subtly, without focusing on the references to consumer culture that drive many other period pieces; the only “Tab” in the book, for instance, is Brady’s younger sister. The story exists in a fictional universe that recalls Risky Business and John Hughes movies but draws from a much darker and more nihilistic perspective: “Visible scars mean you’ve been in a fight. The invisible ones keep you in it,” Brady muses after evaluating injuries acquired during one of his many violent confrontations. Brady is a challenging protagonist, and Becker balances his flaws and his vulnerabilities well, keeping readers from giving up on him entirely, even as they watch him make one bad call after another. The narrative also offers him a redemption arc that doesn’t neatly tie up all the novel’s loose ends. Although the frequent scenes of teen drug use may be off-putting to some, they generally feel more documentary than prurient—a manifestation of how Brady and his friends try to assert their independence from adults, who are merely background characters. The prose is solid throughout, with a close first-person narrative that shows events from Brady’s perspective, and it has a straightforward tone that keeps the more dramatic scenes from turning into melodrama. Brady’s tendency to draw life lessons from D&D is endearing without feeling overdone, and it allows the book to take an introspective turn without betraying its 14-year-old perspective.

A dark and skillful teenage crime novel with plenty of heart.

A debut collection of brief stories reflects on the human condition.

Beginning as a campaign to write one tale a week for 50 weeks, Becker’s book spans many literary genres, moods, and situations, all set in a succession of American states. While many stories create mere cursory circumstances sketched over an economy of pages as the subtitle suggests, others are somewhat lengthier, like the opener, “Broken People,” starring an Idaho farmer and father of four. The man aches for absolution years after a tragedy. The irony and sometimes the cruelty of humankind ground much of this collection, making it both thoughtful and relatable. The ways furniture connects to a family unit constitute the Connecticut-set tale “The Lake House”; next-door strangers finally find common ground in “Good Neighbors” just as one family moves away; and ruthless looters take advantage of Oregon’s wildfire season in “Where There’s Smoke.” The volume’s standout quality lies in its variety. Pain and passion intermingle with history and culture (New Orleans Voodoo, Alaska, the circus) while a mixture of spontaneous adventures and deadly consequences saturates many stories, like “Dead Ends,” in which a couple on a Utah desert highway recklessly take a detour. They end up embroiled in a nightmarish government biohazard contamination setting. The Halloween yarn “Shine on You Crazy Diamonds” features a haunted house bedeviling a group of Detroit friends who gathered there as kids. As impressive as some of the longer tales are, the shorter entries can pack the same punch, as in the single-page drama “The Blue Door.” Here, a California woman who abandons her marriage still feels a scintillating pinch of sorrow, freedom, and terror at relinquishing her husband’s “safety net that would never catch her again.” As an anthology, Becker’s book is ultimately satisfying, if uneven in spots. Some stories lack enough narrative definition or distinguishing characteristics to link them to their locations. Still, the varying states of the characters’ minds form a kaleidoscopic array of reflections, regrets, accomplishments, and the stress of both good and bad relationships. Whether melancholy or blissful, each of Becker’s tales offers an engaging coda and even some food for thought for readers who enjoy vivid short stories grounded in humanity.

A cleverly conceived, character-driven, if overstuffed, anthology sure to delight and enchant.