
Marx is a handsome, charming playboy who’s never been taken seriously until he becomes CEO of their studio. Sadie has been overlooked in a family where a sick sibling took all the attention, but her protagonists are free to become heroes. Sam is part Korean, part Jewish, and the success of his games allows him to transcend his awkward sense of unbelonging. Video games, for them, are a therapeutic source of escapism. But throughout it all, Zevin’s avoidance of jargon and her descriptive skill ensure accessibility – and the narrative is grounded by the fragility and humanity of the characters. The novel explores, with considerable accuracy, the complex technological challenges, the inherent sexism of the games business (Sadie’s contribution is constantly underplayed by fans and journalists), and the compromises involved in meeting the demands of publishers.

Sam is part Korean, part Jewish, and the success of his games allows him to transcend his awkward sense of unbelongingįor those who don’t play or understand games, the lengthy descriptions of the development process may at first be trying.

Meanwhile, Sam stays quiet, still being slowly eaten away by the physical and mental toll of that childhood car smash. Sadie falls back into a troubling sub-dom relationship with Dov, an abusive male coder who could be modelled on any of the dozens of rich, 40-something predators patrolling the games industry. Marx starts a love affair with the game’s hippyish composer. But as their success grows, so does the complexity of their intricately entwined lives. Their game, an artsy adventure inspired by Hokusai’s woodblock print The Great Wave Off Kanagawa, is a smash hit and the trio set up a development studio in Los Angeles.

Sam is at Harvard, Sadie at MIT and they both still love video games enough to start developing one together, aided by Sam’s charismatic roommate Marx. Eventually, the two fall out, only to meet again by chance eight years later in a crowded Boston subway.
