Wanting What Hurts in Half His Age

"Three teenage girls" by justmakeit is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0.

Jennette McCurdy’s Half His Age has received mixed reviews since its release at the end of January, but, for me, that ambivalence is part of what makes it so compelling. Her unsettling sensibility creates a rich character study, drawing the reader into the narrative. 

At the centre of the novel is Waldo, whose rebellious inner dialogue cuts through every relationship she navigates: her boy-crazy mother, trapped in cycles of leaving her daughter for male figures; friendships shaped by quiet hostility, where Waldo is all too aware of how they perceive her; and most disturbingly, her hidden love affair with her teacher, Mr Korgy. McCurdy refuses to romanticise any of it. Instead, her bleak writing style keeps the reader alert to the imbalance of power – to remind us that beneath her bravado, a girl is being taken advantage of.  

What makes the novel striking is the tonal shifts in Waldo’s behaviour which mirror a wider culture of consumption. Her vices of purging food, popping zits, and guilt shopping all help her navigate her relationships, which are driven by the same all-consuming cycles of desire and dissatisfaction. She moves through numerous detached sexual encounters with boys her own age, only to fixate on Mr Korgy with an intensity that borders on obsession. However, this is also temporary, as once she has his attention, she finds herself bored and repulsed. Waldo knows what she wants until she doesn’t want it anymore. McCurdy subtly critiques how desire, once fulfilled, loses its power, which is familiar in the current age of disposable connections.  

McCurdy is a master at capturing the adolescent perspective by drawing on her own experiences with imbalanced dynamics with adults. This allows her to portray the challenges teenagers face (unbeknownst to their parents) with intimacy and striking realism, and the complex psychological processes they deal with in these situations. Her perspective is similar to that of a responsible parent, guiding rather than shielding us with softened narratives. By refusing to idealise her characters or plot, McCurdy offers something rare: a portrayal of teenage girlhood that acknowledges its contradictions through vulnerability, desire and confusion without reducing it to cliches. 

This approach sets Half His Age apart, especially with regard to other contemporary authors, like Colleen Hoover, whose work is criticised for profiting on tropes involving toxic relationships, domestic abuse and the subordination of women. McCurdy defies easy narratives. She doesn’t neatly tie it in a bow to become digestible or romantic, but exposes the vulgarity, anger and horniness of Waldo’s experiences. 

Overall, Half His Age works because it doesn’t comfort its reader. McCurdy's piercing portrayal of compulsion, power and the confusion of growing up is what makes her work so compelling. Her refusal to relieve the truth, combined with her sharp perceptiveness, elevates the novel beyond surface-level shock, creating a more lasting impression.