Genre Fiction
![Henry Fry - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B001KE9NLC.jpg)
First Time for Everything: A Novel
A "hilarious, tender, raw, and heart-stoppingly moving" (Amanda Eyre Ward) debut about a down-on-his-luck gay man working out how he fits into the world, making up for lost time, and opening himself up to life's possibilities
"Fry brings a refreshing voice to the queer coming-of-age novel with characters whose stories don't revolve around trauma. Instead, everyday experiences are portrayed with drama and delight."-The Washington Post (New & Noteworthy)
Danny Scudd is absolutely fine. He always dreamed of escaping the small-town life of his parents' fish-and-chip shop, moving to London, and becoming a journalist. And, after five years in the city, his career isn't exactly awful, and his relationship with pretentious Tobbs isn't exactly unfulfilling. Certainly his limited-edition Dolly Parton vinyls and many (maybe too many) house plants are hitting the spot. But his world is flipped upside down when a visit to the local clinic reveals that Tobbs might not have been exactly faithful. In fact, Tobbs claims they were never operating under the "heteronormative paradigm" of monogamy to begin with. Oh, and Danny's flatmates are unceremoniously evicting him because they want to start a family. It's all going quite well.
Newly single and with nowhere to live, Danny is forced to move in with his best friend, Jacob, a flamboyant nonbinary artist whom he's known since childhood, and their eccentric group of friends living in an East London "commune." What follows is a colorful voyage of discovery through modern queer life, dating, work, and lots of therapy-all places Danny has always been too afraid to fully explore. Upon realizing just how little he knows about himself and his sexuality, he careens from one questionable decision (and man) to another, relying on his inscrutable new therapist and housemates to help him face the demons he's spent his entire life trying to repress. Is he really fine, after all?
"Fry brings a refreshing voice to the queer coming-of-age novel with characters whose stories don't revolve around trauma. Instead, everyday experiences are portrayed with drama and delight."-The Washington Post (New & Noteworthy)
Danny Scudd is absolutely fine. He always dreamed of escaping the small-town life of his parents' fish-and-chip shop, moving to London, and becoming a journalist. And, after five years in the city, his career isn't exactly awful, and his relationship with pretentious Tobbs isn't exactly unfulfilling. Certainly his limited-edition Dolly Parton vinyls and many (maybe too many) house plants are hitting the spot. But his world is flipped upside down when a visit to the local clinic reveals that Tobbs might not have been exactly faithful. In fact, Tobbs claims they were never operating under the "heteronormative paradigm" of monogamy to begin with. Oh, and Danny's flatmates are unceremoniously evicting him because they want to start a family. It's all going quite well.
Newly single and with nowhere to live, Danny is forced to move in with his best friend, Jacob, a flamboyant nonbinary artist whom he's known since childhood, and their eccentric group of friends living in an East London "commune." What follows is a colorful voyage of discovery through modern queer life, dating, work, and lots of therapy-all places Danny has always been too afraid to fully explore. Upon realizing just how little he knows about himself and his sexuality, he careens from one questionable decision (and man) to another, relying on his inscrutable new therapist and housemates to help him face the demons he's spent his entire life trying to repress. Is he really fine, after all?
Editorial Reviews
"Fry brings a refreshing voice to the queer coming-of-age novel with characters whose stories don't revolve around trauma. Instead, everyday experiences are portrayed with drama and delight."-The Washington Post
"First Time for Everything is a wild novel about rage and joy. Danny Scudd is a young Londoner trying to discern between his persona and his truth. His journey is hilarious, tender, raw, and heart-stoppingly moving. I adored this powerful, wonderful book."-Amanda Eyre Ward, New York Times bestselling author of The Jetsetters
"An entertaining, fast-paced read . . . a queer coming-of-adulthood story told with humor, tenderness, and quirk."-Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
"Properly laugh-out-loud, bitingly funny."-Laura Kay, author of Tell Me Everything
"I can't believe First Time for Everything is a debut novel-Henry Fry's voice is just that assured on the page. With Danny Scudd, he's given us a character that will have you rolling on the floor with laughter, right up until the moment where he breaks your heart. This is a book for anyone who has ever felt like an outsider-for all of us who have gone through the joyful, excruciating, and necessary journey of discovering the people we were always meant to be."-Grant Ginder, author of Let's Not Do That Again and The People We Hate at the Wedding
"A hilarious and heartfelt coming-of-queer novel about Danny Scudd, an anxiety-riddled gay man in his late twenties who's trying to learn how to shed the mask he donned for straight society . . . Reading this book felt like hanging out with one of my queer besties. I'd highly recommend it to anyone who's ever felt like they didn't belong."-Celia Laskey, author of Under the Rainbow
"I love that this book exists! The characters were so real to me that I'm still thinkin...
"First Time for Everything is a wild novel about rage and joy. Danny Scudd is a young Londoner trying to discern between his persona and his truth. His journey is hilarious, tender, raw, and heart-stoppingly moving. I adored this powerful, wonderful book."-Amanda Eyre Ward, New York Times bestselling author of The Jetsetters
"An entertaining, fast-paced read . . . a queer coming-of-adulthood story told with humor, tenderness, and quirk."-Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
"Properly laugh-out-loud, bitingly funny."-Laura Kay, author of Tell Me Everything
"I can't believe First Time for Everything is a debut novel-Henry Fry's voice is just that assured on the page. With Danny Scudd, he's given us a character that will have you rolling on the floor with laughter, right up until the moment where he breaks your heart. This is a book for anyone who has ever felt like an outsider-for all of us who have gone through the joyful, excruciating, and necessary journey of discovering the people we were always meant to be."-Grant Ginder, author of Let's Not Do That Again and The People We Hate at the Wedding
"A hilarious and heartfelt coming-of-queer novel about Danny Scudd, an anxiety-riddled gay man in his late twenties who's trying to learn how to shed the mask he donned for straight society . . . Reading this book felt like hanging out with one of my queer besties. I'd highly recommend it to anyone who's ever felt like they didn't belong."-Celia Laskey, author of Under the Rainbow
"I love that this book exists! The characters were so real to me that I'm still thinkin...
Readers Top Reviews
BookishSelkie
First Time for Everything is the chaotic and joyful story of a man on the brink. Danny is not having a good time. This holds true for most of the book. From discovering his partner hasn’t been monogamous (as he assumed), a brush with illness, and desperately needing a new housing situation- Danny is about to implode. He may make it through, but only with the help of his best friend Jacob, their flatmates, and a new therapist. This is a book with a breakneck pace, not in terms of plot, but humor and dialogue. So much of it is blink and you’ll miss it! I do see the comparison to Bridget Jones, though this led me to believe there would be more of a focus on romance. And there is, but Danny primarily goes on a journey of self-acceptance towards himself and identifying as a gay man. I loved the wisdom laced through pages, about the work queer people must do to acknowledge their trauma and in many cases their privilege. First Time for Everything is a book that pulls no punches, yet successfully balances heavy content with lots of tongue-in-cheek humor. I would recommend this for readers who enjoy lots of witty banter, found family, and fabulous LGBTQ+ characters. And of course, Dolly Parton fans.
Jonann SandvigJonann
This is easily one of the funniest books I have ever read. First Time for Everything is poignant and real for anyone who has ever experienced inner struggles that literally broke your spirit. Henry Fry...you nailed it! Danny Scudd age 27, thinks he's handling life great until he finds himself in an STI clinic. He believed he was in a monogamous, loving relationship with Tobbs that was anything but. Now Danny is forced to deal with the humiliating pain of a breakup and find a suitable new place to live. Jacob, Danny's life-long best friend offers Danny a room at his place. Jacob is a flamboyant non-binary professional entertainer with some very whimsical friends. In the wake of the move, Danny begins to realize how little he knows about the inner struggles that pull him down. He seeks counseling for answers. Is he coping with life as well as he thought? Does he really accept himself as he is? How can he find happiness? This is definitely a 5 STAR book. Thank you Henry Fry for this heartfelt message. The world needs more writers like you! I appreciate NetGalley and Random House Publishing Group - Ballantine, for sending me this book to review. First Time for Everything is available on May 10th.
kathleen g
Danny's life might have gone upside down and inside out but it turns out, all of it turns out to be the best thing that could have happened because finally, at the age of 27, he's going to become his best self. His friend and new roomie Jacob (a hoot), pushes Danny. who also works with a therapist to find his truth. This is not a coming of age story rife with trauma but a funny exploration of queer identity. I know I missed some of the UK pop culture references that will enhance this for others but it's still a fun read. Thanks to Netgalley for the ARC. A nice debut.
Short Excerpt Teaser
One
Usually when someone's fondling my balls, I disappear. I try to pretend it isn't happening. The whole thing makes me so uncomfortable I don't know what to do, so I just vanish. Mostly they don't seem to notice, I think. But on this occasion I'm having to answer questions, which makes it trickier.
"And is this a monogamous relationship, duckie?" the middle-aged Irish lady is asking. I wince as her thumb slips probingly around the tender bit of the left testicle.
"Yes, of course," I say to the beige-tiled ceiling. Why does everyone keep asking me that? It's just a normal relationship, like any other. "Can you feel the lump? Does it feel bad?"
She ignores me.
"And are you top or bottom?"
I swallow hard.
"That's a very personal question. I don't really see why it's relevant." She sets me with a look. "The GP just said I had to come here because of-you know-the area."
My heart is thrumming in my neck. This is maybe the worst place I've ever been. I'm never coming back.
"We ask these questions to everyone-to get a better idea of your sexual history."
"But this isn't about sex. It's about . . ."
I nod toward my crotch.
Her blue-plastic-gloved hand-the one that's not currently keeping my scrotum hostage-lands on my arm and squeezes gently. It's strange to be held in this way, even for a moment-oddly comforting.
"I won't be sharing this with anyone, dear. Everything you say is confidential."
I can't bring myself to look directly at her, or where either of her hands is, so I focus on my lightly haired, startlingly white thighs. Then on my calves, then on my ankles, where the navy Topman boxers sit loosely inside the scrunched-up cave of my pulled-down jeans.
"Bottom," I whisper.
"Thanks, dear," she says warmly, removing the hand from the arm. Then, casually as anything, she says: "Any fisting, choking, or BDSM?"
I make a coughing, wheezing sort of noise and see that I've actually sprayed several flecks of spit onto the front of my pale-blue cotton shirt. My face heats up, even though the nurse hasn't noticed and wouldn't care anyway. She must see hundreds of scrotums a week. And globules of startled spit.
I try to get it together.
"No," I say, as evenly as possible. "I'm just really not into contact sports."
"Any GHB, GBL, mephedrone, or general recreational drug taking?" she goes on.
"No." Then I think. "What about coffee? Sometimes I have, like, three oat-milk lattes a day and I feel a bit"-I shake my head from side to side-"floopy."
She ignores me again. "Any chemsex orgies?"
"Is that a band?"
"Any animal play?"
I shake my head. She's lost me now.
"I don't have any pets . . . but I'd love a Shih Tzu."
She gives Old Lefty another good squeeze. I make a "Gah!" noise.
"Ooh, sorry there, dear," she says, almost sings. "And do you use condoms?"
Oh, so we are still talking about sex.
"Yeah, I'm not an idiot," I say very quickly-too quickly. My tongue is dry. I swallow loudly and listen as the lie comes out. "Well, we use them most of the time. But, like, a few times we've been a bit drunk, or it's the morning and it just sort of . . . happens. But it doesn't matter, because Tobbs would never cheat on me."
I really can't remember the last time we used a condom-maybe eight months ago?
I glance up. This time her stare is focused and intense.
"Do you often take risks like this?" she says in a low, serious voice.
"I'm in a monogamous relationship." I hear this come out much more West Country than I would like. I'm an urban professional now, not the son of a couple who run the chippy's in the arse-end of nowhere. I take a breath, I try to flatten my "r"s and shorten my "a"s. "And I don't see what this has to do with, with . . . whatever's going on down there. This is . . . something else."
The woman looks up. Jacqueline is her name, the laminate badge spearing her pendulous bosom informs me. I've been in too much of a whirl to notice anything until now, when this sudden, vivid realization that I'm here, actually here, shakes my vision. This tiny square room I'm in with this woman, her frizz of dyed magenta hair bea...
Usually when someone's fondling my balls, I disappear. I try to pretend it isn't happening. The whole thing makes me so uncomfortable I don't know what to do, so I just vanish. Mostly they don't seem to notice, I think. But on this occasion I'm having to answer questions, which makes it trickier.
"And is this a monogamous relationship, duckie?" the middle-aged Irish lady is asking. I wince as her thumb slips probingly around the tender bit of the left testicle.
"Yes, of course," I say to the beige-tiled ceiling. Why does everyone keep asking me that? It's just a normal relationship, like any other. "Can you feel the lump? Does it feel bad?"
She ignores me.
"And are you top or bottom?"
I swallow hard.
"That's a very personal question. I don't really see why it's relevant." She sets me with a look. "The GP just said I had to come here because of-you know-the area."
My heart is thrumming in my neck. This is maybe the worst place I've ever been. I'm never coming back.
"We ask these questions to everyone-to get a better idea of your sexual history."
"But this isn't about sex. It's about . . ."
I nod toward my crotch.
Her blue-plastic-gloved hand-the one that's not currently keeping my scrotum hostage-lands on my arm and squeezes gently. It's strange to be held in this way, even for a moment-oddly comforting.
"I won't be sharing this with anyone, dear. Everything you say is confidential."
I can't bring myself to look directly at her, or where either of her hands is, so I focus on my lightly haired, startlingly white thighs. Then on my calves, then on my ankles, where the navy Topman boxers sit loosely inside the scrunched-up cave of my pulled-down jeans.
"Bottom," I whisper.
"Thanks, dear," she says warmly, removing the hand from the arm. Then, casually as anything, she says: "Any fisting, choking, or BDSM?"
I make a coughing, wheezing sort of noise and see that I've actually sprayed several flecks of spit onto the front of my pale-blue cotton shirt. My face heats up, even though the nurse hasn't noticed and wouldn't care anyway. She must see hundreds of scrotums a week. And globules of startled spit.
I try to get it together.
"No," I say, as evenly as possible. "I'm just really not into contact sports."
"Any GHB, GBL, mephedrone, or general recreational drug taking?" she goes on.
"No." Then I think. "What about coffee? Sometimes I have, like, three oat-milk lattes a day and I feel a bit"-I shake my head from side to side-"floopy."
She ignores me again. "Any chemsex orgies?"
"Is that a band?"
"Any animal play?"
I shake my head. She's lost me now.
"I don't have any pets . . . but I'd love a Shih Tzu."
She gives Old Lefty another good squeeze. I make a "Gah!" noise.
"Ooh, sorry there, dear," she says, almost sings. "And do you use condoms?"
Oh, so we are still talking about sex.
"Yeah, I'm not an idiot," I say very quickly-too quickly. My tongue is dry. I swallow loudly and listen as the lie comes out. "Well, we use them most of the time. But, like, a few times we've been a bit drunk, or it's the morning and it just sort of . . . happens. But it doesn't matter, because Tobbs would never cheat on me."
I really can't remember the last time we used a condom-maybe eight months ago?
I glance up. This time her stare is focused and intense.
"Do you often take risks like this?" she says in a low, serious voice.
"I'm in a monogamous relationship." I hear this come out much more West Country than I would like. I'm an urban professional now, not the son of a couple who run the chippy's in the arse-end of nowhere. I take a breath, I try to flatten my "r"s and shorten my "a"s. "And I don't see what this has to do with, with . . . whatever's going on down there. This is . . . something else."
The woman looks up. Jacqueline is her name, the laminate badge spearing her pendulous bosom informs me. I've been in too much of a whirl to notice anything until now, when this sudden, vivid realization that I'm here, actually here, shakes my vision. This tiny square room I'm in with this woman, her frizz of dyed magenta hair bea...
