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Impactful Small Decisions
What We Found Last Summer follows a group of friends whose summer turns into one filled with danger when they discover a bag of money tied to the mob. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
Childhood experiences and shared cultural memory: shooting off fireworks, building tree forts in the woods, and riding bikes with my friends. Everything we were doing while unsupervised in the 1980s, when the adults weren’t paying attention, which was most of the time. But it’s also influenced by movies like Stand by Me and, for the suburban crime element, TV shows like The Sopranos.
Derek’s bravado and Calvin’s caution create a strong tension. What interested you about writing that kind of friendship dynamic?
I just love that dynamic—the one friend who pushes the other toward the thing he really wants to do but is afraid to—or knows he shouldn’t. Derek is the catalyst, and Calvin is the conscience. Sometimes we need that friend because they push us to experience life. And sometimes that friend gets us into trouble.
The tone shifts between humor and real danger very quickly. How did you manage that balance without losing momentum?
There’s a lot of character work early in the book, and that’s where most of the humor lives. A fair amount of commentary from the characters about each other and their relationships. But when you’re running for your life, you only have time to react, not reflect. I tried to capture that shift as the stakes rise in the book.
If the characters could look back on this summer as adults, what do you think would stay with them the most?
How impactful small decisions are. How final some consequences can be. And how much simpler life felt when you were just playing with your friends.
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But you just don’t know it yet.
When twelve-year-olds Calvin and Derek venture out to an abandoned treehouse at the edge of the woods, they stumble across something they were never meant to see.
What begins as another carefree day—when friendship still feels permanent and summer was meant for fun—quickly turns into something far more serious as the boys realize they’ve brushed up against a world of crime, danger, and secrets that don’t belong to kids.
Some summers you never forget.
Others change you forever.
What We Found Last Summer
What We Found Last Summer is a compact, propulsive coming-of-age thriller built around a very 1980s kid-adventure setup: bikes, woods, fireworks, treehouses, comics, neighborhood rivalries, and parents who are just far enough away for trouble to bloom. The hook is simple and effective: Calvin and Derek find a bag of mob money in an abandoned treehouse, and their summer suddenly becomes much bigger than scraped knees and boyhood dares. The book knows exactly what it’s playing with when it invokes “Kids on bikes,” but it gives that familiar shape a sharper adult edge.
What makes the story work is that it isn’t just nostalgia dressed up as danger. Author Javier De Lucia fills the neighborhood with specific, lived-in relationships: Calvin and his brother Ryan, Calvin and Ravi’s strained friendship, Derek’s restless bravado, Rochelle’s divided loyalty, Lolo’s quiet vigilance, and the uneasy presence of adults whose choices are spilling into the kids’ world. The mob plot gives the novel momentum, but the real texture comes from the way every kid is trying to understand power, loyalty, fear, and belonging with only a twelve-year-old’s emotional toolkit.
The tone is probably the book’s strongest asset. It’s funny in a blunt, profane, very character-driven way, and then it can turn tense fast without feeling like it has changed books. Agent Baker’s line, “We follow the money,” could’ve been pulled from a straight crime novel, but here it sits beside comic-book arguments, treehouse engineering, and kids making decisions they’re nowhere near ready to make. That mix gives the novel its personality: half suburban adventure, half crime story, with the two halves rubbing against each other in interesting ways.
I also liked how the book lets the kids be messy without sanding them down into symbols. Calvin is cautious but tempted, Derek is bold but scared, Ravi is annoying because he’s often right, and Rochelle sees more than the adults realize. Lolo, meanwhile, becomes one of the book’s most memorable presences because he understands the danger before the kids fully do. The story has a real affection for childhood imagination, but it’s also honest about how quickly imagination can collapse when actual violence enters the frame.
By the end, What We Found Last Summer feels like a memory that’s been sharpened into a pulp adventure, then complicated by an adult narrator who knows memory and fiction don’t always sit in separate rooms. The afterword’s idea that “Everything counts” fits the book nicely, because this is a story about the way childhood incidents can become myths, wounds, jokes, and origin stories all at once. It’s a fast read, but it has more going on than its premise suggests, and its best moments come from how confidently it treats a neighborhood summer as something big enough to change everyone who lived through it.
Pages: 105 | ASIN : B0GT26H2ZM
A Pleasant Fiction: A Novelistic Memoir
In A Pleasant Fiction, Javier De Lucia delivers the emotionally resonant second act to his two-part coming-of-age story, continuing the story of Calvin McShane where The Wake of Expectations left off. If the first book chronicles adolescence in all its messy, comic glory—equal parts coming-of-age tale and Gen X time capsule—A Pleasant Fiction is its older, wiser, and more painful counterpart. Together, the two novels form a sweeping narrative arc that spans the giddy freedom of youth through the disillusionment and hard-earned wisdom of middle age.
De Lucia’s central theme in A Pleasant Fiction is grief, but not grief as an isolated event. This is grief as a condition of life, one that shapes identity and outlook. The book becomes a study in how people carry grief, how they adapt to it, and what they do with the space it leaves behind. But grief here is never cheapened into sentimentality. Calvin’s decisions are morally murky, especially as they pertain to his disabled brother Jared. That’s what makes De Lucia’s work so affecting: the absence of clear heroes or villains. Just people, burdened with love and trying not to collapse under it.
Jared is more than a side character; he is the axis around which the McShane family orbits. His needs shape their routines, his presence defines their household, and his vulnerability tests the limits of their resilience. De Lucia treats Jared not as a symbol, but as a person. For Calvin, Jared represents both the weight of responsibility and the purity of unconditional love. Their relationship is rendered with tenderness and brutal honesty. In one unforgettable line, Calvin reflects: “Loving him was hard. Not loving him was even harder.” That one sentence captures the emotional complexity of being a sibling to someone whose suffering is constant and visible. Jared’s life, and ultimately his death, transform Calvin’s understanding of love, sacrifice, and meaning.
A Pleasant Fiction elevates the series from charming autobiographical fiction to something far more profound. In its patient, unsparing look at illness, family, and the work of grief, the novel finds meaning not in plot twists or dramatic revelations, but in the simple, difficult act of enduring. As Calvin muses in the closing pages, maybe the idea of reunion, of eternal peace, is just “a pleasant fiction.” This is a novel about what it means to grow up and grow older. And for those who have loved and lost, it rings painfully and beautifully true.
Pages: 203 | ASIN : B0F4L1R9K5
The Wake of Expectations
Javier De Lucia’s The Wake of Expectations is a raw, poetic unraveling of self in a world where dreams, disillusionment, and the pressure to perform collide. The book journeys through a fragmented psyche, moving between poetic introspection and philosophical musings, all while probing the cost of living under the weight of inherited ideals and cultural norms. It’s less a narrative and more a lyrical excavation—a fevered diary torn at the seams.
What struck me first was the voice. It’s angry, tender, lost, and deeply human. De Lucia doesn’t hold your hand. He throws you in. His words crackle with emotion—grief, rage, shame. The prose can be jagged, like broken glass, but that’s the point. It’s meant to cut. It’s meant to hurt. And it does, in the best way. I found myself underlining lines not because they were pretty, but because they felt true. Like he’d scooped thoughts out of the back of my mind and dared to say them out loud.
But some passages drift into abstraction. There were moments when it felt like De Lucia was writing for himself. It’s unapologetically personal, but it’s fantastic when it lands; however, I craved more shape and clarity. Still, even in its chaos, there’s something magnetic about it.
The ideas in the book were thought-provoking, and something I really enjoyed about this novel. He questions everything: ambition, masculinity, belonging, even time. And he doesn’t offer answers. Just cracks. Openings. Invitations to think, to feel. I came away shaken, but also strangely comforted. There’s something healing in the honesty, in knowing someone else is just as bewildered by the world.
The Wake of Expectations isn’t for everyone. It’s heavy. It’s weird. It doesn’t pretend to be neat or nice. But if you’ve ever felt like you’re drowning in who you’re supposed to be, this book might throw you a rope—or at least show you you’re not alone. I’d recommend it to readers who crave emotion over plot, who aren’t afraid of the dark corners. It’s poetry with teeth. And it lingers.
Pages: 551 | ASIN : B0DYBJVG9C
