Sarah Damoff’s debut novel “The Bright Years” delivers a poignant, multilayered narrative about a family fractured by secrets and addiction, yet bound by an undeniable gravitational pull toward one another. Through the intertwining perspectives of Lillian, her daughter Georgette (Jet), and Jet’s father Ryan, Damoff crafts a story that spans four decades and three generations, examining how the choices we make—and those made for us—shape our lives and the lives of those who come after us.
This powerful family saga unfolds with striking honesty, highlighting how trauma reverberates through generations while simultaneously offering a tender meditation on forgiveness and the possibility of healing. Damoff demonstrates remarkable dexterity in her character development, creating flawed but deeply human characters whose struggles feel authentic and whose triumphs, however small, feel earned.
Plot and Structure: A Family’s Journey Through Time
“The Bright Years” begins in 1958 with a young Ryan Brighton hiding beneath the kitchen table while his parents fight, establishing the foundation of generational trauma that will echo throughout the narrative. We then leap forward to 1979, where we meet Lillian Wright, a bank teller whose chance meeting with Ryan at a library blossoms into romance.
The narrative weaves through time, revealing how Lillian and Ryan fall in love, marry, and welcome their daughter Georgette. But their happiness is complicated by Ryan’s growing alcohol addiction and the revelation that Lillian had a son before meeting Ryan—a son she gave up for adoption and never mentioned.
Damoff employs a triptych structure, dividing the novel into three sections with alternating perspectives that provide an intimate view of each character’s inner world:
- Lillian’s perspective (1979-1986): Chronicles her meeting Ryan, their marriage, and the early years with their daughter before her sudden death
- Jet’s perspective (2001-2013): Follows Georgette (now going by “Jet”) as she navigates grief, discovers her half-brother Davis, and ultimately finds love with her childhood friend Kendi
- Ryan’s perspective (2012-2019): Shows his journey through late-stage alcoholism toward redemption with his daughter and granddaughter
This structure allows Damoff to reveal information gradually, creating emotional depth while maintaining narrative momentum. Each perspective shift adds layers of understanding, complicating our perception of events and deepening our empathy for each character.
Character Development: Complex, Flawed, and Achingly Human
The characters in “The Bright Years” are what make this novel truly exceptional. Far from being mere vehicles for a plot, they emerge as fully realized individuals whose complexities and contradictions feel genuine.
- Lillian is portrayed with remarkable nuance—a young woman who gave up her first child for adoption, yet loves her daughter fiercely. Her sudden death from cardiac arrest when Jet is fifteen creates the novel’s central void, the absence around which the remaining characters orbit.
- Jet embodies resilience even as she struggles with her mother’s death, her father’s alcoholism, and her own eating disorder. Her journey from angry, grieving teenager to midwife and mother shows Damoff’s skill in charting a character’s growth without making it feel artificial or unearned.
- Ryan is perhaps the novel’s most complex character—a talented artist consumed by addiction who abandons his daughter but ultimately finds sobriety and reconnection in his final years. Damoff refuses to either demonize or absolve him, instead painting a nuanced portrait of a man caught between his demons and his better angels.
The supporting characters are equally well-rendered:
- Elise (Ryan’s mother) provides stability for both Ryan and later Jet
- Kendi (Jet’s childhood friend and eventual husband) offers steadfast love
- Davis (Lillian’s first child) brings both disruption and healing when he finds Jet decades after their mother’s death
Themes: The Inheritance of Pain and Possibility
“The Bright Years” examines several interconnected themes with clarity and compassion:
The Legacy of Addiction
Ryan’s alcoholism is depicted with unflinching honesty—the gradual slide from social drinking to dependency, the rationalizations, the broken promises, and the collateral damage to those he loves. Damoff shows how addiction ripples through generations: Ryan’s father Barton was an alcoholic, Ryan follows the same path, and Jet fears the same tendency in herself.
Grief and Memory
The novel expertly captures the disorienting experience of grief. After Lillian’s death, Jet observes, “Time is broken glass, and I’m stuck in one piece of it—the piece where I still have her.” This sentiment exemplifies Damoff’s ability to articulate profound emotional truths.
Forgiveness as a Process, Not an Event
Perhaps most powerfully, “The Bright Years” portrays forgiveness not as a single decision but as an ongoing process. Jet’s gradual reconciliation with Ryan, spanning years of Sunday photography outings, demonstrates how healing happens in small moments of connection rather than dramatic gestures.
Writing Style: Lyrical Precision and Emotional Truth
Damoff’s prose is both accessible and lyrical, striking a balance between readability and literary merit. Her sentences can be straightforward when needed, but she also crafts moments of stunning beauty:
“Time feels as flimsy as the cardboard swirlies that will hang over Jet’s head in the school gym while the bass line reverberates in her chest and she wraps her skinny limbs around someone who is not me.”
The novel also benefits from Damoff’s keen ear for dialogue, which feels natural and reveals character. From young Apricity’s childlike observations to Ryan’s AA meetings, each voice is distinct and authentic.
Strengths and Weaknesses
What Works Brilliantly:
- Emotional authenticity: The novel never shies away from difficult emotions but also avoids melodrama
- Subtle symbolism: Recurring motifs like photography, the oak tree at the cemetery, and even Nana’s rhubarb pie create resonance without feeling forced
- Generous perspective: Each character is viewed with compassion, even at their worst moments
- Realistic recovery: Ryan’s journey with alcoholism acknowledges both the possibility of change and the permanence of consequences
Areas That Could Be Stronger:
- Timeline jumps: While the shifting perspectives largely work well, occasional chronological leaps might disorient some readers
- Secondary character development: Characters like Shauna and Michael could be more fully developed
- Texas setting: While central to the story, the Texas landscape sometimes feels more functional than vividly realized
- Pacing in the middle section: Some parts of Jet’s perspective move more slowly than the surrounding narrative
Impact and Significance: A Story That Lingers
“The Bright Years” joins the ranks of contemporary novels that examine family dynamics with both unflinching honesty and deep compassion. It shares DNA with works like Mary Beth Keane’s “Ask Again, Yes” and Claire Lombardo’s “The Most Fun We Ever Had,” yet Damoff’s voice is distinctly her own.
The novel’s significance lies in its refusal to offer easy answers while still providing genuine hope. In an era when family sagas often either descend into misery porn or offer unrealistic resolutions, “The Bright Years” charts a more truthful middle path.
Final Verdict: A Remarkable Debut Worth Your Time
At its heart, “The Bright Years” is a novel about finding light in darkness. Its title proves apt—these characters experience profound loss and pain, yet their lives contain moments of breathtaking brightness. Damoff has crafted a moving, thoughtful exploration of how families break and how, sometimes, they can begin to heal.
For readers who appreciate character-driven literary fiction that doesn’t sacrifice plot, who can tolerate emotional complexity without neat resolutions, and who believe in the possibility of redemption without demanding perfection, “The Bright Years” will prove a deeply satisfying read.
Sarah Damoff’s debut marks her as a writer of considerable talent and emotional intelligence. I eagerly await her future work and suspect that “The Bright Years” may find its way onto award shortlists for first novels. With its honest portrayal of addiction, grief, and the complicated nature of forgiveness, this novel deserves a wide audience.
A luminous, emotionally resonant debut that examines how the past shapes us without necessarily defining us.
For fans of Mary Beth Keane’s “Ask Again, Yes,” Claire Lombardo’s “The Most Fun We Ever Had,” and Ann Patchett’s “Commonwealth,” “The Bright Years” offers a moving exploration of family bonds that endure despite—and sometimes because of—our deepest wounds.