This is the story of high school student Waldo, who pursues an affair with her married 40-year-old creative writing teacher Mr. Korgy.

It’s a reckless, seemingly senseless undertaking, but as the contours of her upbringing take shape, her bad choices and infatuations feel less inexplicable: they’re rooted in personal trauma; a pretty fucked-up upbringing.

Waldo’s attempts to navigate the long-ago abandonment of her father and the perpetual disengagement of her mother (who is barely a physical presence, let alone an emotional one) leads her towards various self-destructive choices.

McCurdy’s writing is incisive and wry. She doesn’t shy away from graphic sexual content. My knee-jerk reaction was to call it gratuitous—but is it? The explicit detail feels integral to the novel’s impact, and it feels wrong to frown upon such candour when it’s designed purposefully to unsettle the reader. There’s nothing titillating about the sex; just an oppressive feeling of unease that this poor girl is grasping for meaning in the wrong person.

I loved the shifting dynamic between Waldo and Mr. Korgy; the deep-rooted complexity of their relationship as it evolves, calcifies and corrodes at various junctures. Because the story unfolds from Waldo’s perspective, there is no moral commentary. Waldo doesn’t weigh the rightness or wrongness of her choices; she’s just living her decisions, and we experience their consequences. Growth occurs, but the narrative never stops for analysis or philosophising. Just how I like it.

It’s fast, engaging, and provocative. But it’s a novel I enjoyed in flashes rather than as a sustained experience. McCurdy seems in such a rush to complete Waldo’s journey, there are times it feels like we skimmed over events rather than truly experienced them. Sometimes you need to take your foot off the accelerator and sit in a moment. Ironically, everything about Half His Age is so razor-sharp, it has a blunting effect.

Buy the book.