Literature & Fiction
![Elvin James Mensah - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B0B6CJ4W45.jpg)
Small Joys: A Novel
An unexpected friendship saves a young man's life in this moving, utterly charming debut about chosen family, the winding road to happiness, and the grace of second chances.
Could I one day inspire happiness in others, the same way he seemed to do in me?
It's 2005 and Harley has dropped out of college to move home, back to rural England, where he works a dead-end job at a movie theater. Estranged from his father and finding every attempt at happiness futile, Harley is on the verge of making a devastating final decision. Fortunately for him, things don't go according to plan, and his attempt on his own life is interrupted by his new roommate, Muddy.
Muddy is everything Harley is not: ostensibly heterosexual, freewheeling, confident in his masculinity. Despite their differences, a deep friendship blossoms between them when Muddy takes Harley under his wing and shows him everything that, in his eyes, makes life worth living: bird-watching, karaoke, rugby, and the band Oasis.
But this newfound friendship is complicated. It has enormous repercussions for the pair's romantically entangled friend group-for Chelsea, an overbearing striver whose generosity they begrudgingly rely on; for Finlay, her raffish and uncouth boyfriend; and for Noria, who despite her simmering confidence is smarting from a series of unreturned affections. And then there's the violent affair with an older man that Harley finds himself slipping back into . . .
As secrets and jealousies endanger all that Harley has come to depend on, he finds himself faltering once again, even though he finally has something-and someone-to live for. Soul-stirring and witty, full of hope and peopled with characters who feel like close friends, Small Joys explores a young man's turbulent journey toward happiness and announces the arrival of an exciting voice in fiction.
Could I one day inspire happiness in others, the same way he seemed to do in me?
It's 2005 and Harley has dropped out of college to move home, back to rural England, where he works a dead-end job at a movie theater. Estranged from his father and finding every attempt at happiness futile, Harley is on the verge of making a devastating final decision. Fortunately for him, things don't go according to plan, and his attempt on his own life is interrupted by his new roommate, Muddy.
Muddy is everything Harley is not: ostensibly heterosexual, freewheeling, confident in his masculinity. Despite their differences, a deep friendship blossoms between them when Muddy takes Harley under his wing and shows him everything that, in his eyes, makes life worth living: bird-watching, karaoke, rugby, and the band Oasis.
But this newfound friendship is complicated. It has enormous repercussions for the pair's romantically entangled friend group-for Chelsea, an overbearing striver whose generosity they begrudgingly rely on; for Finlay, her raffish and uncouth boyfriend; and for Noria, who despite her simmering confidence is smarting from a series of unreturned affections. And then there's the violent affair with an older man that Harley finds himself slipping back into . . .
As secrets and jealousies endanger all that Harley has come to depend on, he finds himself faltering once again, even though he finally has something-and someone-to live for. Soul-stirring and witty, full of hope and peopled with characters who feel like close friends, Small Joys explores a young man's turbulent journey toward happiness and announces the arrival of an exciting voice in fiction.
Editorial Reviews
"Kind, careful, beautiful, and profound . . . Elvin James Mensah has an uncanny ability to give voice to the most delicate nuances of the human experience. His characters will stay in your heart forever."-Allison Larkin, author of The People We Keep
"A largehearted look at the importance of found family, Mensah's first novel focuses on the lifesaving friendship between a cast-off son . . . and the easygoing new roommate whose affection becomes a balm. Small Joys dwells in the sometimes-fleeting moments of pleasure and happiness that stave off the iniquities of the world."-Electric Literature
"Breathtaking and heartrending, by turns hilarious and devastating and surprising and wild . . . Elvin James Mensah's prose makes the intangible deft and tremendous-from the balm of friendship to the beauty of queerness to the all-encompassing elixir of community. Tender, thrilling, and honest, Small Joys is a beam of light."-Bryan Washington, author of Memorial
"I adored Small Joys-a sweet, moving, funny, strikingly open story. I don't know if I've ever rooted so much for a protagonist as I did for Harley. . . . What a gorgeous novel."-Jennifer Saint, author of Ariadne
"Small Joys is a wonderful book full of music, life, and a great deal of heart. . . . An extremely BIG joy!"-Matson Taylor, author of The Miseducation of Evie Epworth
"This heartwarming, witty, and moving debut is one of the most charming books you'll read this year. Exploring love, friendship, grief, and the bittersweet joy of being young, Small Joys is utterly beautiful."-Louise O'Neill, author of Idol
"A beautiful, moving story of love, male intimacy, chosen family, and finding self-worth."-Paul Mendez, author of Rainbow Milk
"Mensah debuts with a poignant chronicle of the intense friendship between two m...
"A largehearted look at the importance of found family, Mensah's first novel focuses on the lifesaving friendship between a cast-off son . . . and the easygoing new roommate whose affection becomes a balm. Small Joys dwells in the sometimes-fleeting moments of pleasure and happiness that stave off the iniquities of the world."-Electric Literature
"Breathtaking and heartrending, by turns hilarious and devastating and surprising and wild . . . Elvin James Mensah's prose makes the intangible deft and tremendous-from the balm of friendship to the beauty of queerness to the all-encompassing elixir of community. Tender, thrilling, and honest, Small Joys is a beam of light."-Bryan Washington, author of Memorial
"I adored Small Joys-a sweet, moving, funny, strikingly open story. I don't know if I've ever rooted so much for a protagonist as I did for Harley. . . . What a gorgeous novel."-Jennifer Saint, author of Ariadne
"Small Joys is a wonderful book full of music, life, and a great deal of heart. . . . An extremely BIG joy!"-Matson Taylor, author of The Miseducation of Evie Epworth
"This heartwarming, witty, and moving debut is one of the most charming books you'll read this year. Exploring love, friendship, grief, and the bittersweet joy of being young, Small Joys is utterly beautiful."-Louise O'Neill, author of Idol
"A beautiful, moving story of love, male intimacy, chosen family, and finding self-worth."-Paul Mendez, author of Rainbow Milk
"Mensah debuts with a poignant chronicle of the intense friendship between two m...
Readers Top Reviews
Katelyn H
"I'd always felt like a weed growing among flowers, competing for light and water: too neglected to be picked, but somehow too weak to be a threat to anything. But, in the end, these flowers had given me something, they'd arranged themselves around me, and made me feel as if I were one of their own" (Mensah, 2023). Mensah's Small Joys follows Harley as he moves back to rural England and comes face-to-face with the challenges he has desperately tried to leave behind. Harley finds that his current life is not worth living and makes a decision to end his life. However, he is ultimately saved - in more ways than one - by his fellow flatmate, Muddy. Muddy ends up showing Harley that life is worth living and worth second chances at happiness. Despite their differences, the two become fast friends. Small Joys is a heartwarming story about growth, acceptance, and finding your "people." I'll be honest, I almost gave up on this about 30% of the way through. It was moving so slowly and did not seem to be going anywhere. I sympathized with Harley and felt his pain, but at times, it just felt whiny. However, once I hit the halfway point, I was fully invested in Harley and Muddy's journey. Their friendship is one that everyone needs to have in their life. There are quite a few sensitive topics in the novel (self-harm, mental illness, homophobia, abuse), so if those are an issue, I would pass on this one. Also, if you are not English and are not up-to-date on your slang, be prepared to be a little confused at times. It is very slang heavy - but only requires you to re-read a sentence once or twice to get a general idea. Overall, this gets a 3/5 due to the pacing and heavy English slang. If you are looking for a good LGBTQIA+ book, give this one a try!
Jonann SandvigJon
Small Joys by Elvin James Mensah I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed Small Joys. It is Elvin James Mensah's debut novel. This is a story about the loving friendship between Harley and Muddy. The story is raw, touching, and heartfelt. Despite each character's unique traits, they come together in meaningful scenes. This beautiful story of imperfect friendship left a lasting impression on me as a reader. It is a wonderful debut and I look forward to reading more. Small Joy is available on April 11th. Thank you NetGalley and Random House Publishing Group - Ballantine, for sharing this incredible friendship. I appreciate your kindness.
Katie Whitman-Her
Beautiful story. Likable characters - I’d go birding with Muddy any time. Once I was through a tough opening chapter, it was a breeze of a read. Some triggering topics, but they were explained well and handled gently. My only complaint is that I want to know how everyone is doing now! 4 stars for a very lovely debut novel. Thanks to NetGalley for the copy.
Nancy FamolariKat
Harley is at the end of his rope. He dropped out of college, is estranged from his father, and is working a lower-level job in a movie theater. He suffers from anxiety and depression and is at the point of taking his own life when he’s rescued by Muddy. The boys live in the same rental house and Muddy takes Harley under his wing teaching him to enjoy things in life like bird-watching. The boys, although quite different, form a strong bond. With the other young people living in the house they form a type of family to support each other. Harley continues to suffer from his mental health problems, but now there is growth and healing. Muddy is particularly sensitive as he is dealing with his grandfather’s dementia. It is a beautiful story of friendship and support. I enjoyed both main characters. However, Muddy was particularly effective, dealing with his own problems and finding the compassion to befriend someone in need and help them to heal. The book is a character based novel with little action. However, the dialogue and the sensitive topics covered move the book along well. This is a coming of age story. It is very satisfying to see the two young men helping each other in a difficult world. This is a book that can bring you joy as you read it. I received this book from Random House for this review.
Short Excerpt Teaser
ONE
I had never thought much about birds before I met Muddy. Any interest that I had in them, and the various species that inhabited Britain, was because of him. There were a lot of things I hadn't considered before I met him.
I'd often thought of life as something to be bargained with, to be battled with. It was an entity to which you repeatedly justified your existence, to which you made your case for why it deserved to be embellished with happiness and love and friendship. There was something almost mythical about people for whom it hadn't been this way, people who were simply entitled to happiness by virtue of being alive.
Muddy often made me feel as if I deserved to be one of these people. His enthusiasm for his own life made mine feel better by association. It was an enthusiasm that seeped into quotidian things like swimming, various kinds of rock music, karaoke, and, yeah, birds.
The first time I saw him was on a warm afternoon in July. I'd just returned home to Dartford from university, and I had no intention of going back. I stood in the woods by my flat, staring at a small x-acto knife cradled in my palm. I thought I'd submerged myself somewhere that felt thickly wooded enough that nobody would see me. It was so quiet. From the trees to the dirt to the wildflowers, it felt as if the woods were closing in on themselves. The quiet hadn't brought with it any peace; in fact, it had amplified my ominous thoughts. I pressed my eyes shut and begged life for something it had refused me, desperately hoping that once I opened them up again, among the leaves and branches, there it would be, some glorious manifestation of happiness. But when I opened my eyes, the world seemed darker somehow, crueler, as if it had collected in its palms my every failure, my every inadequacy, and presented them to me, instructing me to behold the beauty around me and deem my presence here inappropriate.
I closed my eyes again.
A hand suddenly landed on my shoulder and I squeezed the knife tight, gasping in pain, dropping it into the ferns. I turned around and there he was: a tall husky guy holding a pair of binoculars, with brown hair down to his neck and a concerned expression on his stubbled, dimpled face.
"Oh, pal," he said. He was wearing cargo shorts, brown safety boots, and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. "What've you done to yourself?" He had a distinctive Mancunian accent. I looked up at him, panicked, trying to catch the blood dripping with my other palm. I was so embarrassed and desperately wanted to be alone, so much that I wanted to cry. But it had been my father's teaching that I shouldn't cry in front of other people, some "wisdom" from childhood that'd been implanted like a chip in my brain. "Ah, you're bleeding, mate . . ." he continued. He fished out a handkerchief from one of the pockets on his shorts, waved out the crumbs, and began to wrap it around my hand. "Had my sandwiches in this but it should be all right."
"I'm fine," I said curtly, yanking my hand away and unraveling it from the blood-soaked fabric.
"Ah, come on, mate," he said. "Don't be like that. You're bleeding. Here, look-"
"I said I'm okay."
"Oh, pal, you can't just-"
I walked away from him before he could finish, holding my shirt over the cut, all the way back to the flat. Crossing the road, I realized I hadn't brought my keys with me. I also realized that he had been following me. When I got to the front door, I sat on the bench just outside the building and kept my head down as he walked toward me.
"Is your name Harley by any chance?" he asked, looking down at me. I nodded, still not looking up. "Thought it might be. I'm Muddy. I suppose I'm your new flatmate, then." He went to shake my hand but then stopped. "Shit, yeah, sorry." He took his keys out of another pocket on his shorts. "Let's get you inside, then."
Muddy and I had a mutual friend, Chelsea, whose dad owned the flat. Before I came back from university, I'd asked her if I could have my old room back, but she'd already let it out to somebody else, so I had to take the smaller third one instead. It turned out that somebody was Muddy.
I spent the afternoon avoiding him. I locked myself in the bathroom for a few minutes, running some cold water over my hand, and then looked through the first aid kit for something to bandage it with. I couldn't bear the thought of throwing my bloody shirt in the kitchen bin where Chelsea might see it, or where Muddy might be reminded of this encounter, so I balled it up and stuffed it under my bed, later disposing of it in one of the bins outside. I stayed in my room with my headphones on, pretending to be asleep whenever Muddy k...
I had never thought much about birds before I met Muddy. Any interest that I had in them, and the various species that inhabited Britain, was because of him. There were a lot of things I hadn't considered before I met him.
I'd often thought of life as something to be bargained with, to be battled with. It was an entity to which you repeatedly justified your existence, to which you made your case for why it deserved to be embellished with happiness and love and friendship. There was something almost mythical about people for whom it hadn't been this way, people who were simply entitled to happiness by virtue of being alive.
Muddy often made me feel as if I deserved to be one of these people. His enthusiasm for his own life made mine feel better by association. It was an enthusiasm that seeped into quotidian things like swimming, various kinds of rock music, karaoke, and, yeah, birds.
The first time I saw him was on a warm afternoon in July. I'd just returned home to Dartford from university, and I had no intention of going back. I stood in the woods by my flat, staring at a small x-acto knife cradled in my palm. I thought I'd submerged myself somewhere that felt thickly wooded enough that nobody would see me. It was so quiet. From the trees to the dirt to the wildflowers, it felt as if the woods were closing in on themselves. The quiet hadn't brought with it any peace; in fact, it had amplified my ominous thoughts. I pressed my eyes shut and begged life for something it had refused me, desperately hoping that once I opened them up again, among the leaves and branches, there it would be, some glorious manifestation of happiness. But when I opened my eyes, the world seemed darker somehow, crueler, as if it had collected in its palms my every failure, my every inadequacy, and presented them to me, instructing me to behold the beauty around me and deem my presence here inappropriate.
I closed my eyes again.
A hand suddenly landed on my shoulder and I squeezed the knife tight, gasping in pain, dropping it into the ferns. I turned around and there he was: a tall husky guy holding a pair of binoculars, with brown hair down to his neck and a concerned expression on his stubbled, dimpled face.
"Oh, pal," he said. He was wearing cargo shorts, brown safety boots, and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. "What've you done to yourself?" He had a distinctive Mancunian accent. I looked up at him, panicked, trying to catch the blood dripping with my other palm. I was so embarrassed and desperately wanted to be alone, so much that I wanted to cry. But it had been my father's teaching that I shouldn't cry in front of other people, some "wisdom" from childhood that'd been implanted like a chip in my brain. "Ah, you're bleeding, mate . . ." he continued. He fished out a handkerchief from one of the pockets on his shorts, waved out the crumbs, and began to wrap it around my hand. "Had my sandwiches in this but it should be all right."
"I'm fine," I said curtly, yanking my hand away and unraveling it from the blood-soaked fabric.
"Ah, come on, mate," he said. "Don't be like that. You're bleeding. Here, look-"
"I said I'm okay."
"Oh, pal, you can't just-"
I walked away from him before he could finish, holding my shirt over the cut, all the way back to the flat. Crossing the road, I realized I hadn't brought my keys with me. I also realized that he had been following me. When I got to the front door, I sat on the bench just outside the building and kept my head down as he walked toward me.
"Is your name Harley by any chance?" he asked, looking down at me. I nodded, still not looking up. "Thought it might be. I'm Muddy. I suppose I'm your new flatmate, then." He went to shake my hand but then stopped. "Shit, yeah, sorry." He took his keys out of another pocket on his shorts. "Let's get you inside, then."
Muddy and I had a mutual friend, Chelsea, whose dad owned the flat. Before I came back from university, I'd asked her if I could have my old room back, but she'd already let it out to somebody else, so I had to take the smaller third one instead. It turned out that somebody was Muddy.
I spent the afternoon avoiding him. I locked myself in the bathroom for a few minutes, running some cold water over my hand, and then looked through the first aid kit for something to bandage it with. I couldn't bear the thought of throwing my bloody shirt in the kitchen bin where Chelsea might see it, or where Muddy might be reminded of this encounter, so I balled it up and stuffed it under my bed, later disposing of it in one of the bins outside. I stayed in my room with my headphones on, pretending to be asleep whenever Muddy k...
