Book Review: ‘So Old, So Young’ by Grant Ginder
This one hit me square in the millennial chest. I read Grant Ginder’s So Old, So Young in about a day and a half, and for my first experience with this author, it felt like stepping into a slightly exaggerated mirror of my twenties. If you read this as satire, a heightened version of what millennial life looks like after college, it works. Especially if you have lived through that strange, messy stretch of becoming someone while pretending you already are.
[Note: While I am reviewing this novel independently and honestly, it should be noted that it has been provided to me by Gallery Books/Scout Press for the purpose of this review. Warning: My review of So Old, So Young contains some spoilers!]
The anchors of Grand Ginder’s novel
At its core, the novel follows a group of six college friends, Mia, Sasha, Nina, Marco, Adam, and Richie, over the span of about twenty years. The story moves through a series of reunions and key moments that show how their relationships evolve, or unravel, as they move from college into careers, marriages, and entirely different versions of adulthood. What starts as closeness and shared identity slowly becomes distance, tension, and the realization that not everyone grows in the same direction.
The women anchor much of the story. Mia builds her life around her career, choosing ambition in ways that feel both intentional and necessary. Sasha feels stuck in a life she cannot quite take ownership of, pulled in too many directions to make a clear decision about what she actually wants. Nina exists on the quieter edges, shaped by loneliness and unrequited feelings, often feeling as though she is watching her own life unfold from the outside.
Marco is the kind of relationship that never fully resolves. His connection with Mia is full of missed timing and lingering attachment. It is the kind of almost-relationship that stretches on longer than it should and never quite becomes something solid. Adam brings a quieter emotional current. There is a sense that he is always searching for stability while staying tied to situations that keep him unsettled.
Richie becomes one of the more defining presences in the book. In their twenties, he is magnetic and chaotic in a way that draws everyone in. As the years go on, his struggles with addiction begin to shape not only his life but the emotional landscape of the entire group. His trajectory is one of the few that carries a sense of weight over time, even though we only see it in fragments.
So Old, So Young, so relevant?
I have been every woman in this book in some way. I have been the Mia who leans into work because it feels like the only thing she can control. I have been the Sasha who feels overwhelmed to the point of avoidance. I have been the Nina who loves people who do not fully see her. I have also been the friend watching others get married and build families while trying to understand what that means for my own life.
What Ginder does well is capture that transition from college into early adulthood. The social dynamics feel familiar. The small tensions, the comparisons, the quiet insecurities all feel recognizable. It was easy to read certain scenes and immediately connect them to my own memories. That sense of recognition carried me through the first half of the book. I was fully invested in the story.
But somewhere in the later sections of So Old, So Young, that connection started to fade.
For me, the shift happened after Richie’s birthday gathering. The characters continue to age, but they do not seem to deepen in a way that matches the passage of time. We move through years quickly, but the emotional development feels limited. The story relies heavily on brief interactions and internal thoughts that become repetitive rather than revealing.
This is where I struggled most, especially with the portrayal of the women.
I am always a little cautious reading female perspectives written by male authors, especially when so much of the story depends on inner monologue. Grant Ginder captures the structure of these women’s lives, their careers, relationships, and milestones, but often stops short of making their inner worlds feel fully lived in. Sasha and Mia, in particular, begin to feel more like ideas than fully developed people once they move into their thirties.
Their reflections do not always match the complexity of what they are experiencing. The emotional range feels limited, and at times, their thoughts feel surface-level or overly familiar. Because the book relies so much on their perspective, that lack of depth becomes more noticeable as the story goes on.
At the same time, I kept questioning whether that distance was intentional.
There is a version of this story where the lack of emotional depth is part of the point. Where adulthood, with its routines and responsibilities, flattens people in ways they do not always recognize. Where friendships that once felt all-consuming become reduced to occasional check-ins and surface-level conversations. Where people lose the ability, or maybe the willingness, to truly know each other over time.
If that is what Ginder is aiming for, then the tone makes more sense. But it also feels possible that the book leans too heavily on familiar patterns instead of pushing deeper. That tension between intention and execution is what ultimately kept this from landing more strongly for me.
Because when I think about my own life now, at 36, the idea that long-term friendships are inherently shallow does not fully hold up. Some relationships do fade. Some people grow apart. But the friendships that last are built on honesty, effort, and a willingness to evolve together.
I have maintained friendships for over twenty years, not because they stayed easy, but because we chose to keep showing up for each other. And I have let other friendships go to make space for the version of myself that feels more real, and for the people who support that growth.
So while So Old, So Young captures the feeling of being young and uncertain with real clarity, it feels less convincing when it comes to what happens after.
That said, this was an incredibly readable book. It is sharp, observant, and at times uncomfortably accurate. Even when I felt frustrated, I wanted to keep going. If you approach this as a satirical look at millennial friendship and adulthood, there is a lot to connect with. If you are looking for something that fully explores the emotional depth of long-term relationships, it may leave you wanting more.
Either way, it will probably make you think about your twenties and the versions of yourself that lived there.
So Old, So Young, by Grant Ginder, is available now for purchase! Have you had a chance to read this novel yet? Did you like it? Share your thoughts on social media and tag @bsb.insider to continue the conversation!
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