It’s an autumn weekend at a comfortable New York country house where two deeply intertwined families have gathered to mark the host’s fifty-second birthday.

Together, the group forms an enviable portrait of middle age. The wives and husbands have been friends for over thirty years, their teenage daughters have grown up together, and the drinks, dinners, rituals, and games that form their days all reflect the rich bonds between them.

This weekend, however, something is different. An unforeseen curdling of envy and resentment will erupt into an unspeakable act, the ramifications of which are enormous. Accusations, denials, and shattered illusions follow, driving wedges between friends, spouses, children and parents, and exposing the treacherous fault lines on which these families have dwelt.

This book contains scenes depicting sexual assault.

From the first page of Among Friends, I was drawn into Hal Ebbott’s percipient and refined prose. The intimate view of masculine friendship, social facades, and group dynamics had me so captivated that when the stakes were suddenly and unexpectedly raised, I didn’t know what had hit me.

Emerson and Amos have been best friends since college, supporting each other through life’s seasons. Now in their 50s, both married fathers of teenage daughters, they spend a holiday weekend at a country house with their families. What begins as an innocent gathering becomes the catalyst of the group’s unraveling. One shocking act will shake the foundations of their comfortable, picture-perfect lives, and reveal long-buried jealousies, insecurities, and distrust.

Ebbott deftly and precisely peels back the layers and complexities hidden beneath the surface of the characters’ lives. As we see the dismantling of relationships that have been strong but unexamined for decades, we begin to understand the carefully curated roles being played in the group’s established dynamic. Ultimately, this resolute, unblinking novel raises thought-provoking questions about the secrets we keep, the pretenses we rely on, and the unsettling idea that we may not truly know those closest to us.