Bodaciously True & Totally Awesome, Episode I: Bad Boy by Chris Orcutt

Review by Perrin Lovett

As this review concerns a novel about America during the 1980s, allow me to open with a poignant quote by the great philosopher Meat Loaf: “It was long ago, and it was far away, and it was so much better than it is today.”

I will admit upfront that this review was a splendid challenge to write. The subject book is so wonderfully rich that it is, for a reviewer, a bit of a paradox. It is rich; there is a complexity to it. And yet, it is simultaneously a transcendental simplicity, a force that kindly but commandingly pulls one in and reveals a comprehensive dream reality. The reader has no choice but to understand and enjoy the experience. The book, to a member of America’s Generation X, isn’t a fanciful memory recalled through good storytelling about the 1980s; it IS the 1980s. And the reader is literally there once again. The book is Bodaciously True & Totally Awesome, Episode I: Bad Boy. 

(Cover design by Victoria Heath Silk with image by Guiliano Del Meretto.)

*Orcutt, Chris, Bodaciously True & Totally Awesome, Episode I: Bad Boy, New York: Have Pen, Will Travel, 2026.

In July 2025, based on my study of his blog, and upon reading One Hundred Miles from Manhattan and Perpetuating Trouble, I described New York-based American novelist Chris Orcutt as “an artist as dedicated to the craft as may be found anywhere.” Now, only a few months later, that vignette feels like a foolish understatement. Orcutt is a remarkable craftsman, one who inspires awe from even those of us familiar with the laborious process of writing. He pays great and continuous homage to the legends of literature. But there is something distinctively different about Orcutt’s habits, writing, and wisdom. This is an extremely rare case of a literary heir apparent who, in many ways, joins the ranks of the greats. And, even more astonishingly, in other ways, Chris Orcutt leaves them behind. If literature is like a tall tree, with each author a branch, then the greats reach up from the very top in search of sun and air—a high limb for Homer, Ovid, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Pushkin, Gogol, Murakami, et al. As with those rare boughs, Orcutt’s branch has forced its way outward towards the light.

A long-time resident of New York’s Hudson River Valley and a writer for more than three decades, Orcutt has been called “The American Tolstoy.” And now, he is poised to (re)prove or even surpass that lofty moniker via the release of his magnum opus, the American teen epic, Bodaciously True & Totally Awesome. The novel, with over one million thrilling words, will be released in nine segments. Orcutt says: “[A]ll 9 books will be published between January 2026 and November 2027—about one book every twelve weeks. This means that, unlike with series including Bridgerton, Harry Potter, or Game of Thrones, you and other readers won’t have to wait years for the next installment!” 

Based on my good fortune of reading the first portion in advance, I suggest readers won’t want to wait a single day between releases. However, be schedules what they may, here is a brief look at the first installment of Bodaciously…, Bad Boy. Per the challenge I mentioned—as wonderful a difficulty as any reader or reviewer could imagine—because there is literally a whole world packed into 386 pages, this review will barely scratch the surface. I also wrote this review before conducting my Interview with Chris Orcutt (please read it), and I have left this examination largely as originally drafted to maintain a fresh initial perspective. With those caveats, here goes!

Bad Boy flows like a roller coaster. A good one. A really, really good one. Let one find a memory of such a ride from the ‘80s, from childhood—The Mindbender, The Cyclone, Space Mountain, [your choice]—and that’s the way this book moves. High speed, ups and downs, hard turns, feelings of both negative and super-positive gravity, uncertainty, and fun, fun, fun until the end. Once it’s over, one will invariably want to ride, or, rather, read it a second time. 

If the story itself is akin to a coaster’s track, the necessary component that gets a reader from the beginning to the end, then Orcutt’s very unique writing style is the force that propels the experience. Few people have the mental clarity and technical precision to become good writers. And even good writers sometimes fail to reach beyond proper but mechanical language and solicit the reader’s authentic participation. Orcutt reaches the heart and mind in a way so natural that the reading experience comes off as a genuine extension of one’s self, like seeing one’s own original thoughts in print. The effect is so rare, it is a marvel. Also, Bad Boy is miraculously empowered by a spirit or theory, a palpable presence unexpounded by forced expression.

Suspecting that any individual’s exact retrospective, introspective interpretation might differ from mine, or even Orcutt’s, I leave the discovery of that thoughtful phenomenon to the reader. I will say, however, that throughout so many of the scenes, references, and conjured memories in Bad Boy, I found a deep, reflective philosophy that magnified the whole experience. The young characters feel or sense it too, though, like most teenagers, they don’t know precisely what they’re encountering. In my estimation, they handle it all very well because Orcutt allows them the freedom to do so—yet another interesting facet.

The youthful protagonist, Avery “Ace” Craig, is a James Bond fan. And his adventures kick off with an action sequence to make Ian Fleming proud. More action follows, along with drama, romance, humor, intrigue, more romance, turmoil, thrills, even more romance, and so much more. And it is all bound together in a simply mesmerizing fashion. It’s part hero’s journey. Avery is a hero, one who saves several days. He effortlessly makes friends with and impresses powerful and famous characters. He beats down or outwits adversaries. He’s eccentric, and he can afford it. He’s brilliant, especially when it comes to verbal skills and multiphase operational-tactical thinking. He has the athleticism to put his plans into hard action, and it pays off for him. He’s loyal almost to a fault. And he gets the girl. And the other girl. And a few more girls. And, uh … he’s one of the best ladies’ men in modern literary history! At the end, readers are left with several concurrent cliffhangers, adventurous and potentially dangerous, action-oriented and frantically passionate. All of it will leave the reader predicting, picking sides, hoping, fearing, laughing, and holding on tight. A word of warning: the wait for Episode II: True Blue, as short as it might be, will probably be a little agonizing. 

Bad Boy is riddled with numerous references to the better elements of our generational past. Orcutt does something remarkable with those elements, a matter of living incorporation. One such instance happens off the bat in chapter one. I’m not going to give away the sequence, although I really want to! But what Orcutt does is take a cultural reference from the ‘80s and define it by using it as a comparative example that both illustratively describes the reference (Heck! It’s Princess Leia from The Empire Strikes Back!) and seamlessly furthers the life and depth of Avery’s world. I keep going back to the scene and a few like it and wondering. Looking around literature, I tried to remember another writer who does something similar. Think of, if one will, Bram Stoker’s inclusion of then-cutting-edge technology references—all of them true to the 1890s, by the way—in Dracula, and that’s kind of it. Or not really. Stoker’s examples, nifty as they are, feel a little mechanical by comparison. Orcutt’s technique is uncanny.

Orcutt makes another series of references in a way rather unusual for most fiction; he uses footnotes. These roll right along with the text, and readers will naturally follow and enjoy them as they occur. They serve a few purposes, namely acting as deeper reminders for those of us sporting some gray hairs, and as novel descriptions of some things perhaps previously unknown to younger readers. They work brilliantly! They capture the cool factor of Tolkien’s use of footnotes in The Lord of the Rings—and that is saying something!

Among the many shining lights in Bad Boy, one that clearly illuminates characters and weaves them tightly together, is Orcutt’s keen command of and fluent usage of multiple layers of human psychology, especially in the case of the resident teenage characters, the dimensions of the sociosexual hierarchy. The novel is a deep journey into the world of the young adult, with many stops at all of the accompanying nuances, those revolving around young men and women in particular. Mine, of course, was a male perusal and reminiscence. However, as I read, I sensed a repeated lure that would capture a woman’s interest. It is a coming-of-age story, far better, far grander, and more true than any of the very best of the genre movies from the period. (I know of exactly zero books concerning the same or, rather, zero worth considering by way of analogy.) Avery is, as he acknowledges, as readers will surmise, as famous older dominant characters accept and appreciate, and, most importantly, as girls recognize, an “alpha.” Yet he is just stepping into this role, absorbing the thrills, chills, punches, successes, and problems, all while doing his best to understand who he is and what’s happening to him. He is very resourceful and takes the reins more naturally, openly, and excitedly than do the other young characters, certainly any of the other young men. Yet he has correlation limitations and few sources of direct assistance or peer mentoring. So it is extremely refreshing that, when least expected, he reaches out for a little Supreme guidance. It is not stated, but the boy knows, per 1 Corinthians 13:11: “When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. But, when I became a man, I put away the things of a child.” In Bad Boy, and he can be one, Avery is just getting started in his transition from boy to man. But he does a darned good job of getting off the line!

Such an incredible and meaningful depth is felt on every page that one may come to a slight and occasional rational explanatory impasse, temporarily reading more with the heart than with the brain. As an example, I became increasingly invested in a certain matter, an affair of the heart, throughout chapter fourteen. A short series of little review notations indicates my rapt attention to the theme, bread crumbs across the pages. A little clarity or relief happened on the first page of chapter fifteen, taking the form of a simple two-word sentence. I circled those words and left a smiley face beside them. (And I do not normally mark or notate fiction!) I strongly suggest that readers will experience this kind of reaction repeatedly. It is a genuinely encompassing and immersive emprise, one that will have the mind (and heart) buzzing for some time once the reading stops.

One of my many buzzing reflections, one I thought of during and after reading Bad Boy, is what I’ve termed “poly-temporal thought and emotion,” an astounding contemplative outlook. I was there in the ‘80s. I remember bits of what Orcutt recreates perfectly. And I had the luxury of reliving it again thanks to his efforts. How do I sum this up? There were parts of the story where I essentially thought, “I did that, some of it. Maybe I shouldn’t have done as much as I did … but I wish I’d done a little more.” Avery’s story is a masterful exploration of what was and what sometimes is, all odds or cautions or inputs aside. While reading, I was at once a sixteen-year-old me again, deeply enjoying the ride as young men do, AND I was the older, “wiser” me of today, smiling while thinking the way a father does. I suspect others, from many generations, may have a similar experience: seeing what life was like for us, then, while also reflecting either upon their own youthful lives or on their present perspectives. I struggle to convey the staggering impact of this notion. But I suspect it will cement Orcutt’s book in the echelons of timeless literature, not just as historical fiction, not merely as an epic, but as a large kernel of universal truth and appeal. 

Another thing that blew me away once I realized what Orcutt was doing—and this is another element I can’t recall anyone else using, or using so well—is his multiplicitous use of music in Bad Boy. Recall that the pop music of the 1980s helped define the era. As such, and as another component in the tactic of references as world-building and enlivening devices, Orcutt places song titles throughout the book, little mentions that move along and enrich narration and dialogue. But he does something else! It took reading a few of them for me to get it, but somehow, by some genius, he uses song titles, set off properly, in both quotation marks and little music notes, as a striking form of punctuation! Scene settings or boundaries, if one will. This has the most intense effect of bringing the song to mind while highlighting or augmenting whatever situation is at hand. It might have been the song-as-punctuation accompanying those two words I noted that elicited the smiley face. 🎵“Take Good Care of My Heart”🎵 =)

I could go on and on, without ever quoting anything specific, and all I would do is internally trigger more material I’d love to cover. I cannot accurately estimate the instances where Bad Boy personally spoke to me in ways large and small. I trust gentle readers of all adult American generations (and many of our friends from afar) will find the novel a similar mental adventure and heartfelt escapade. In short, whether via personal memory or hiraeth, the reader will “be there,” be a part of the story, and want more!

Now, with any book, what matters the most is all the stuff, all the ideas expressed with ink on paper, between the covers. But those covers matter too. Accordingly, I offer a word of praise about the physical construction of Bad Boy. My 6X9-inch paperback is a stern and noble thing of beauty. The cover is sturdy and smooth, the margins are ideally trimmed, the spine is solid, firm but flexible, and rugged enough to endure many openings. The typesetting is attractive, perfectly-spaced and formatted, and easy on even fifty-year-old eyes. The cover design looks like something that would have rested comfortably on the front shelves of a B. Dalton or Borders store back in 1986. The entire package is of an ultra-high quality, coupled with a dashing, becoming appearance. I also happen to have a new hardcover—a magnificent luxury item! The Kindle version, no doubt, promises excellence and electronic ease.

January 2026 rapidly approaches, so kindly keep an eye on both Orcutt’s Upcoming Works Page and his Amazon Author Page. Bad Boy is available for pre-order from Amazon right now, and the wise reader will want to buy a copy and start enjoying the ride. I don’t just recommend this book, I’m mandating it. This outstanding novel is about to prove that, even now, as Night Ranger once reminded us, “You can still rock in America!”