At the Edge of the Universe by Shaun David Hutchinson (review)

Narrator Ozzie has a right to be angry—his beloved boyfriend, Tommy, disappeared months ago and now no one except Ozzie seems to remember that he ever existed. His parents send him off to therapist after therapist and his friends try to reason with him when they aren’t wrapped up in their own high school drama. Ozzie won’t give up on Tommy, though, and he also won’t give up on the universe, which is apparently shrinking at a startling rate (people don’t remember that it was ever any larger), though he seems powerless to actually do anything about either situation. Self-harming genius Calvin is a worthy distraction, as he is clearly tormented by a sexual assault by a teacher and could use a strong ally, and Ozzie also worries about his older brother in basic training. These two characters ground Ozzie in the verifiable real world, though he’s pretty sure, unreliable narrator status be damned, that his increasingly tiny universe where Tommy is missing is indeed reality. In spite of a lot of issues raised (gender fluidity, sexual assault, cutting, depression, and bullying, to name a few), Hutchinson ably keeps the tone sardonic and wry, allowing for characters to experience devastation with a clear perspective that all will be survived, and life still holds mysteries and joys. Fans of Hutchinson’s We Are the Ants (BCCB 1/16) may find this novel to be a bit of a retread, as both rely on a male teen who may or may not be experiencing what he says he is, but the author has such an impeccable eye for the narrative voice and palpable desperation of this kind of gay, distanced, world-weary teen that any overlaps will likely be easily forgiven.