Lynn Steger Strong’s third novel, The Float Test, plunges readers into the suffocating heat of a Florida summer where four adult siblings navigate the treacherous waters of family loyalty, betrayal, and grief. Following her critically acclaimed works Want and Flight, Strong delivers a complex family portrait that is both intimately observed and frustratingly uneven—a book that showcases her considerable talents while highlighting the challenges of balancing multiple narrative threads.
The Kenner Family Constellation
The novel centers on the four Kenner siblings, each carrying their own particular form of damage. Fred, a novelist who has stopped writing after exploiting her sister’s most private moments for literary acclaim, drifts through borrowed houses and empty days. Jude, a recently unemployed lawyer and single mother, harbors a deep resentment toward Fred that threatens to poison their entire family dynamic. Jenn, the eldest, channels her grief and control issues into obsessive party planning and parenting six children. George, the youngest, stumbles through a crumbling marriage and questionable financial dealings while nursing an inappropriate crush on his sister’s friend.
Strong’s characterization is perhaps the novel’s greatest strength. Each sibling feels fully realized, carrying the specific wounds and neuroses that come from growing up in a family where love was conditional and secrets were currency. The author demonstrates a keen understanding of how childhood dynamics persist into adulthood, particularly in the way Fred and Jude’s relationship mirrors the push-and-pull of adolescent competition layered with adult consequences.
The Weight of Unspoken Truths
The central conflict between Fred and Jude—revealed to be Fred’s publication of a thinly veiled story about Jude’s abortion—serves as the novel’s emotional core. Strong handles this betrayal with nuance, avoiding easy villains or victims. Fred’s defense that she “wrote it loving” Jude reveals the self-serving nature of artistic exploitation, while Jude’s fury exposes the real cost of having one’s private pain transformed into public art. This exploration of the ethics of memoir and fiction feels particularly relevant in our current literary moment.
However, the novel’s structure sometimes works against its emotional impact. The narrative jumps between perspectives and timelines, often interrupting moments of genuine connection with exposition or backstory. While this technique effectively mirrors the scattered nature of grief and family dysfunction, it occasionally leaves readers feeling as adrift as the characters themselves.
Florida as Character and Metaphor
Strong’s Florida is not the tourist-friendly paradise of popular imagination but a place of environmental devastation and crushing heat. The recurring motif of vultures—starving because development has destroyed their habitat—serves as an apt metaphor for the Kenner family’s own ecosystem. Like the displaced wildlife, the siblings struggle to find sustenance in a landscape that has been irrevocably altered.
The author’s environmental consciousness permeates the novel without overwhelming it. Through young Brooke’s essay about the dying river and Fred’s research into the state’s ecological destruction, Strong weaves climate anxiety into the family’s personal grief. This parallel between environmental and familial collapse feels organic rather than forced, though it occasionally threatens to overshadow the human drama at the novel’s center.
The Struggle with Emotional Authenticity
One of the novel’s most significant challenges lies in its emotional register. Strong excels at depicting the complicated dynamics between siblings—their ability to wound each other with surgical precision, their desperate need for connection despite years of accumulated hurt. The scene where all four siblings finally float together in the ocean carries genuine cathartic power, suggesting the possibility of healing without offering false resolution.
Yet the book sometimes feels emotionally remote, as if the characters’ intellectual understanding of their dysfunction prevents them from fully experiencing it. This may be intentional—a reflection of how privilege and education can create distance from genuine feeling—but it occasionally leaves readers observing the family’s pain rather than feeling it.
Literary Merit and Technical Craft
Strong’s prose is consistently intelligent and occasionally beautiful. Her ability to capture the physical reality of grief—the way Dad looks “small, his limbs thinner than ever”—demonstrates her skill at grounding emotional states in concrete detail. The novel’s structure, alternating between different family members and time periods, mostly works to illuminate the various facets of family trauma.
The pacing, however, feels uneven. Certain sections, particularly those exploring the siblings’ past relationships and career disappointments, drag despite their psychological insight. The novel’s climax—involving a injured dog and a revelation about their mother’s gun—feels both inevitable and slightly contrived, though Strong handles the aftermath with appropriate gravity.
Comparative Context and Literary Landscape
The Float Test joins a rich tradition of family dysfunction novels that includes The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen and The Dutch House by Ann Patchett. Like those works, Strong’s novel examines how families can be simultaneously sources of deep love and profound damage. However, where Franzen tends toward satire and Patchett toward sentiment, Strong occupies a middle ground that sometimes feels less emotionally decisive.
The book also shares DNA with recent works exploring the intersection of personal and environmental crisis, such as Playground by Richard Powers or Weather by Jenny Offill. Strong’s treatment of climate anxiety feels less urgent than these works but more integrated into character development.
Final Assessment: Ambitious but Uneven
The Float Test succeeds most when it focuses on the specific textures of sibling relationships—the way shared history can make simple conversations feel like navigating a minefield. Strong demonstrates genuine insight into how families create their own private languages of hurt and healing. The novel’s exploration of artistic ethics, particularly around the exploitation of personal relationships for creative material, feels urgent and necessary.
However, the book’s ambitions sometimes exceed its emotional reach. The multiple plotlines and perspectives, while realistic in their complexity, occasionally dilute the narrative’s impact. Readers looking for the tight focus and emotional intensity of Strong’s earlier work may find themselves wanting more from this sprawling family portrait.
Similar Books to Consider
For readers drawn to The Float Test, consider these comparable works:
- Commonwealth by Ann Patchett – Another multi-generational family saga exploring the long-term effects of parental choices
- The Most Fun We Ever Had by Claire Lombardo – A recent family novel examining four adult sisters and their complicated relationships
- Florida by Lauren Groff – Short stories capturing the particular strangeness and beauty of the Florida landscape
- Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng – Explores themes of artistic exploitation and family secrets
- The Candy House by Jennifer Egan – Uses shifting perspectives and timelines to examine interconnected lives
Strong has created a novel that rewards careful reading while occasionally frustrating those seeking more emotional immediacy. The Float Test stands as a thoughtful, if imperfect, examination of how families navigate the space between love and damage, offering enough insight and beautiful writing to satisfy readers willing to accept its limitations alongside its considerable strengths.