When We Grow Up: Navigating Friendship and Fracture in Paradise
I’ve often found that the most poignant insights about life come from the spaces between friends—those quiet moments laced with unspoken truths and shared histories. When I picked up Angelica Baker’s When We Grow Up, I was immediately drawn to the premise of a group of friends reuniting in paradise. Little did I know, this vivid backdrop would serve as both a serene escape and a tumultuous battleground for confronting the complexities of adulthood and the stalemate of their relationships.
Set against the stunning vistas of Hawai’i in January 2018, Baker’s sophomore offering immerses readers in the lives of Clare and her five high school friends. Clare, a married writer grappling with an unfinished novel, epitomizes a familiar struggle: the gap between who we believe we are and who we really are. She’s surrounded by a cast that brings their own baggage to the table: Renzo, the charming, narcissistic nucleus of their circle; Kyle, the wealthy peacemaker; Mac, quietly distancing himself from the group; Jessie, ensnared by new love; and Liam, with whom Clare finds herself entangled in a reckless affair.
What truly sets Baker apart is her keen exploration of self-awareness that doesn’t quite lead to self-improvement. Each character is acutely aware of their flaws—they dissect their motivations and engage in psychological banter—but they remain ensnared in cycles of behavior that don’t change. I found this theme captivating; it echoed my own reflections on friendships that sometimes feel more like performance art than genuine connection.
A particularly sharp moment occurs during a dinner when Renzo chastises Clare for her self-satisfied awareness: “You’re so proud of your own self-awareness… I liked you better when you were tap-dancing around your lack of a swimming pool.” This brutal honesty lays bare the complexity of their relationship and illustrates how deep-seated affection can coexist with cutting critique.
Baker also interweaves a political backdrop that enhances the personal dilemmas the characters face. The threat of climate change and the shadow of the Trump presidency add weight to their discussions, painting a portrait of a generation grappling not only with personal failings but also societal ones. Mac’s poignant remark that he can never truly be himself with the group underscores how close friendships can falter under the weight of unacknowledged privilege and alienation.
Baker’s prose is another highlight of the novel. Each sentence feels deliberate, striking a balance between emotional depth and sharp wit. The vivid landscape of friendships that flourish and flounder is captured beautifully: “She feels like someone has helped her onto a train… realizing she has no way of speaking with the conductor.” This kind of imagery stuck with me long after finishing the book, echoing the confusion of navigating adulthood.
Though I relished the emotional honesty of When We Grow Up, there were moments that left me yearning for more resolution. Some characters, like Kyle, felt underexplored, while the relentless focus on dysfunction sometimes overshadowed the lighter, joyful moments that could have provided balance.
Ultimately, Baker’s novel will resonate with readers who understand that growing up is far from linear. It’s about embracing contradictions and acknowledging that our flaws don’t define us, even when they threaten to consume us. If you’re drawn to thoughtful narratives about friendship, love, and our often messy human experience, this book might just linger with you, sparking reflections long after you turn the last page.
When We Grow Up isn’t just a story; it’s a mirror reflecting our own fears, failures, and the raw beauty of our relationships. It’s perfect for anyone navigating the tricky terrain of adulthood, especially those seeking authenticity in a world that seems to constantly demand performative virtue.
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