Publishers Weekly
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Had it been set anywhere but New York City, Westfield's raucous debut would be viewed as an absurdist tale, but in the shadow of 9/11 and bolstered by Westfield's accessible prose, it's a striking portrait of life in the Big Apple. Andy Green, a Hell's Kitchen denizen, pays the rent by writing tricky multiple-choice questions for an educational testing service and soon finds himself quasi-managing the floundering cabaret career of his Russian emigre friend, Sonia Obolensky. One night, while attending her crummy cabaret show, Andy becomes smitten with Sonia's new mentor, Brad Willet. Young, handsome and independently wealthy, Brad devotes himself to worthy causes, prompting Andy to do the same. But when Brad abruptly cuts Andy off, he dives into a downward spiral that's exacerbated by a hate crime and 9/11. Andy goes off the deep end and doesn't leave his apartment for months. Though the reader will likely be ahead of Andy in figuring out that both Sonia and Brad are not who they appear to be (the answer lies in a surprising backstory set in Michigan a generation ago), Andy's story is a wild one. (Aug.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

Kirkus
Copyright © Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Gay-bashing, 9/11, free-floating paranoia and fanaticism make pretty grim ingredients for a comedy, however dark, but this ambitious debut ably wrests smart laughs from terror. Take-out cartons and dirty socks pile up, but Andy Green won't leave his Big Apple apartment. And who can blame him? Months before, he'd been rendered pulp; his sister's fianc, a klutzy magician from Texas, got it even worse—the pair were victims, they suppose, of a hate crime. Westfield, a playwright and New York tour guide, makes Green very much the mod gay Manhattanite, with his quirky low-wage job penning multiple-choice tests, his exotic, histrionic gal pal, the ultra-Russian Sonia, and his dashing sugar daddy, princely philanthropist Brad. Refugee from both Maryland and a vengeful, Bible-spouting mom, Andy's drunk on the city, and some of the best writing here comes in the form of a Twin Towers elegy: bitter railing at touristy kitsch that exploits the tragedy, wistful yearning for what was lost. The cataclysm provides the psychic centerpiece—after the planes crash, Andy's world dive-bombs. The story crosses whodunit—unraveling the mystery behind Andy's attack, as well as uncovering the murderous past of a tour guide who menaces Green—and comedy of manners, offering a hip catalogue of urban misadventure and malaise. Creaky comic staples—mistaken identities, a major plot point hinging on Sonia's mispronunciations—intrude, but Westfield keeps things moving with snappy dialogue and wry character descriptions (his sister, for example, is a Sex and the City wannabe, "hence the sex talk, the shopping, the shawl, the never having enough shoes"). As in French farce, an awful lot happens—Brad's disappearance, Andy's re-emergence from his "cave," his sister's run-in, in a mouse outfit, with a pizzeria manager—and the frantic pace feels very up-to-the-New-York-minute. A head-spinning romp, a bit overstuffed with twists and turns. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.