So Close to Home (2023) is Mick Cummins's debut literary fiction novel and a grimly harsh chronicle. It’s a heartfelt dark Aussie tale of a homeless eighteen-year-old. Aaron was the victim of childhood trauma (trigger warning) leading to his life on the streets and his daily battle for a fix. Needing money, Aaron encounters an older man, who is yet another to take advantage of Aaron, as he struggles with his demons each day of his life on the streets of Melbourne. Aaron is continually reminded of his past he’d rather forget, but can never resolve given his estranged father’s denial. His mother offers him minimal support and tough love but the consequences of Aaron’s life lead to an inevitable fatal spiral. Whilst Aaron has a sense of hope and is a survivor, his story is gritty and not for the faint hearted. A surprisingly readable, at times horrific, yet powerful account of the consequences of childhood abuse that is a four stars read rating. With thanks to Affirm Press and the author, for an uncorrected advanced review copy for review purposes. As always, the opinions herein are totally my own, freely given and without inducement.

Youth homelessness and drug abuse are tough subjects to take on in Australia. They are either ignored or treated as a problem for the legal system. Mick Cummins takes the issue head on in his latest novel So Close to Home. The novel takes readers deep into the life of a teenager living on the streets of Melbourne and the downward cycle of abuse that he finds himself in.
When So Close to Home opens Aaron is being given a slight chance – a room in a hostel for the night. But before long he has stolen his roommate’s watch and pawned it for drug money. Aaron is addicted to heroin and has been living on the street since his mother kicked him out. His parents split up over his allegations of abuse against his grandfather. Now he floats through the city, constantly seeking money for his next score, eventually turning to prostitution and finding himself in a twisted version of the abuse that destroyed his life.
There is not much plot to speak of in So Close to Home. This is a character study with a narrative that goes where Aaron goes, beats to the rhythm of his life, and charts what can only ever be an inexorable decline. It is compassionate and heart breaking. Aaron experiences moments of grace – brief friendships, time with his mother and her boss in their hair salon. But all of these moments sit beneath the shadow of his addiction which drives him to take risks and also leaves him vulnerable.
Where writers like Trent Dalton rely on a more whimsical, optimistic approach to the issue of homelessness and to some extent the drug problem, Cummins takes a more realistic approach. It is a reality that is easy to turn away from. But Cummins makes readers look, to try and understand what has brought Aaron to this point, and how the systems around him are not only ill-equipped to help him but often serve to push him further down into a spiral of addiction. Even the name of the book, So Close to Home, highlights that Aaron’s world is only a bus ride from his childhood home, and yet he has nowhere to turn. So Close to Home deals with issues that are so common that they have fallen out of the news and out of view for many. It is tough but important fiction that with hopefully get readers thinking more deeply about an issue and a population who we tend to not think about at all.

‘Play the game, Aaron. Just play the game and get it over with.’

Eighteen-year-old Aaron is a homeless heroin addict. Aaron’s mother loves him, and she hopes that kicking him out will help him kick the habit. Aaron spends his life chasing his next fix, but he intends to stop using because he would like to make his mother proud of him. Unfortunately, addictions aren’t that easy to give up, especially when heroin provides a temporary refuge from memories of abuse.

The streets of South Melbourne are home to Aaron. His dreams of a better life are interrupted by memories of abuse at the hands of his grandfather, reinforced by his father’s rejection of Aaron’s experience. Aaron’s need for cash to fund his habit drives him to theft, and then he meets a man. The distinguished looking older man Aaron meets is prepared to pay him regularly for certain services. Aaron can comply if he’s high. That is the only way he can block out the pain of the past.

‘Sex for money for heroin: that’s the equation.’

But a young man burdened with memories of abuse, requiring increasing amounts of heroin to blunt his pain is both volatile and vulnerable. Aaron is motivated to make money by busking (until he realises that he needs a permit) and drug-affected, he trusts the wrong people.

This story is a fiction, but Aaron’s story could apply to many who have been abused. The temporary escape, the relief afforded by drugs is replaced by physical addiction and problems multiply. There’s a limit to how much physical and psychic pain a person can bear.

Mr Cummins captures Aaron’s struggles and while not condoning his actions makes it easier to understand them. This novel made me uncomfortable and sad, and I finished it wishing for a different outcome.

Note: My thanks to NetGalley and Affirm Press for providing me with a free electronic copy of this book for review purposes.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

(3.5 stars)
So Close to Home paints a picture of what life in Melbourne is like when you use heroin. Time is punctuated into the hours until your next hit, with each injected dose only giving about five hours reprieve: “His brain is in another gear, racing, as always, in pursuit of a pathway to score.”

Written by a former policeman, Mick Cummins, this book is fairly gentle and avoids judgement. Eighteen year old Aaron is a victim and survivor of child sexual abuse. Unusually he was brave enough to speak out within a few months of the abuse, which ruptured his immediate family into those who believed him, and those who do not. Heroin provides an escape from the pain he feels as a result of the sexual abuse without counselling that he feels will he “too hurtful, like probing for a splinter buried deep in flesh.” Heroin has also taken away his remaining family and housing, as his mother struggles to cope with the changes in her son produced by the drug.

As the novel proceeds, Aaron’s need and decreasing monies (Centrelink cut off his payment, busking is illegal without one) see him turn to opportunistic sex work with men: “Sex for money for heroin: that’s the equation.” The older male client base remind him of his abuser and dredge up trauma that makes him use more often: “the mounting tension between deep pain and ugly pleasure that always resolves in overwhelming guilt.” While So Close to Home isn’t a love story to heroin like Candy, it does help you see how untenable we make life for people who use the drug: “a stark reminder of the void between the life he has now and the one that was stolen from him”. It will probably elicit sympathy for the protagonist even as you clutch your bag, bike and laptop closer.