Two men well into their 80s live together in secret in Matthew Griffin's sumptuous and quiet first novel, Hide. Griffin strikes Wendell's narrative tone immediately--his Southern languor belies his growing anxiety when he discovers Frank lying facedown in his beloved garden after a stroke. Not without snide remarks does he call an ambulance ("I'm fairly sure [the operator's] eating doughnuts. Makes all her words sound fat."), despite the couple's shared fear of being discovered. But if Wendell has cultivated a cool aura of irony to cope with their exile, Frank's good humor remains unchanged: "Just needed to lie down for a second," he says, slurring his speech.
Though Hide is dramatic in its depiction of the struggle to care for an aging partner alone, the repartee between the two men elevates the otherwise melancholy novel. Frank's sunny disposition breaks the gathering clouds of dementia. Wendell's quips, though, are frequently barbed with hurt he's nursed since he was 16, when he learned "I wasn't any of the things my parents wanted me to be," and he took off on his own. For decades, Wendell and Frank have had only each other to rely on, and as their secret idyll threatens to crumble, their shared loneliness becomes a foreboding presence.
Matthew Griffin has crafted his characters through the eyes of a long-enduring love. In an effort to ensure Frank eats, after his sense of taste dissolves into metallic blandness, Wendell cooks up every hearty dish and dessert he knows. With much the same fervor, Griffin delivers a novel robust with flavor and brimming with passion. --Dave Wheeler, associate editor, Shelf Awareness