In his debut novel, the follow-up to 2003’s Scotiabank Giller Prize–nominated story collection Kilter: 55 Fictions, John Gould delivers punch after emotional punch, pulling readers into his characters’ manic and often tragic lives.

A movie “kritik” (the “k” is meant to call forth associations with the German word kritiker), Matt McKay’s life is steeped in loss. His anorexic older sister died when she was 24, and his mother passed away a few years after that. His father, whom Matt refers to as “the Dadinator,” suffers from dementia. Matt’s marriage began falling apart when his Zen-hippie wife admitted to having an affair with Sophie, a local barista. To top it all off, Matt’s HIV-positive best friend, the filmmaker Zane, has decided he’s done taking his meds and is dying for good.

In a bid to save Zane (and to escape the problems of his own life), Matt leaves his Vancouver Island home and flies to Toronto. But Matt’s plans get sidetracked when he comes down with what he believes to be a fever (his sickness is more likely a symptom of anxiety). He holes up in a swanky North Toronto hotel and spends the better part of a week sleeping with a woman he’s just met, watching TV, and wallowing in the past. When Matt’s anxiety fever breaks and he decides it’s safe to visit Zane, the emotion in the story really ratchets up.

Matt’s breakdown would seem less like a mid-life crisis and more like an adolescent freak-out were it not for the emotional weight with which the author freights it. Zane’s impending death calls to mind the death of Matt’s sister, which in turn reminds Matt that almost everyone he loves has slipped away. But Gould injects humour into even the novel’s darkest passages. While thinking about his sister’s passing, Matt almost screams with frustration and grief. Gould compares the stifled scream to a groan that a dominatrix’s un-gagged client might emit. Gould’s prose is mannered, but not to the point of indulgence: the suburbs are described as a “Legoland of grey concrete,” skin as “lobstered” in the bathtub, and the sound of crickets is “a wall of white noise.”

Matt’s penchant to run from conflict and refusal to confront his problems make him appear juvenile, but he carries a huge load of heartache around with him. His attempt to save Zane’s life, we come to understand, is also an attempt to pull together the tattered shreds of his own.