Rachel’s brother Micah disappeared.

Two weeks ago, she got a letter from him.

Today, she’s going to go look for him.

Carrie Arcos’s debut novel Out of Reach follows Rachel and Micah’s former best friend Tyler as they search for him. But it’s not just a road trip in search of a missing brother and missing friend. This is a story about how addiction can tear apart even the most solid of relationships. How meth addiction can ruin not just the life of the addict, but how it impacts the lives of those who love that person.

Told through Rachel’s voice, we’re given the back story of Micah’s struggle with the drug. What started as a one time thing slowly grew to be a part of who Micah was and of how he survived each and every day. Rachel knew about his drug use and had an inkling about how serious it was, but she never confronted him. She never told her parents, either. She let Micah have his addiction, seeing it as not that problematic.

Of course, it was. That’s why he disappeared. He’s living on the streets somewhere, doing what he can to make a buck and score his next stash.

But it’s not Rachel’s fault.

As Rachel and Tyler set out on the trip to find Micah, readers are given insight into his spiral into full-blown addiction. Both of them carry the weight of responsibility, and together, they’re hopeful they will make things right by finding Micah, bringing him home, and getting him the help he needs. It won’t be that easy, though.

While Arcos’s novel successfully illuminates the impact of addiction on a family, I never found the book to carry the sort of emotional heft it needed. Rachel is saddled with grief and with frustration at herself for not speaking up. For also hiding away the letter Micah sent her for weeks before choosing to see what sort of trouble he was in right now. The problem is that it’s all talk — there isn’t actually an emotional component to the story. It’s hard to connect with Rachel because she says repeatedly she feels the guilt, but that’s it. There’s not an actual expression of emotions or her guilt. It’s told, not shown, which is going to happen when much of the story is told through back story on the drive down. This isn’t a story in the moment. It’s a reflection on a story as it played out over the years. Rachel isn’t emotionally distant. Rather, there is simply no emotional connection to be made here.

This is further challenging as — spoiler alert — Rachel’s car is stolen. Where an average teenager who has snuck out from her parents’ home to go look for a missing person would feel utter anger, frustration, and rage about a car being stolen, Rachel fills out a missing car report and that’s it. For a moment she considers her options and feels like she might be stuck, but the second the report is filed, it’s tucked away and forgotten. The thought about where her car could be, how she could go find her brother, nor how she could get home aren’t considered again. It’s odd and jarring to the reader because Rachel’s emotions do not match the situation. There are no emotions, period. And where she could have been easily void of emotions, which is a valid way for a character to be, her reflections upon her guilt show that she indeed has experienced them before. That they are a part of her. Us readers, though, never get to see them.

It’s impossible for me to write this paragraph without spoiling, so drop down if you don’t want it. But I found the ending of this book to make this lack of emotion even more difficult. Rachel and Tyler leave before finding Micah, though she is reunited with her car through one of the most ridiculous scenes in the book. On the drive home, Rachel and Tyler admit to potentially having feelings for one another, and that both of them are devastated by the life Micah chose. Beyond that, though, we never hear how Rachel feels about leaving for home without him. For all of the guilt and fear she talks about having, again, we have nothing. In fact, the ending was so flat and singular that I wondered what the point of the journey was. There wasn’t an arc. It could be argued — and quite fairly — that the journey and arc are of Rachel’s worries and fears and guilt shifting from personal responsibility to understanding that an addict is an addict and can only seek help for him or herself. The problem is, then, the lack of emotional connection or weight behind the narrative makes this arc hard to see and unsatisfying.

Likewise, the other issue I had is that nothing in this story is at stake. Rachel’s brother is missing. If he’s found, there’s an avenue for the story to expand. But because — spoiler — he never is found, there is nothing gained and nothing lost. Had this story happened immediately upon Rachel receiving the letter from him, there would be much more at stake. That waiting period though, which is explained as her way of processing all she and her family had been through with Micah’s addiction, removes the stakes. It’s almost as if Rachel knows finding him won’t happen. This journey is much more for her and for Tyler than it is for Micah; but again, since Rachel doesn’t make her emotions palpable, it’s tough to see her arc or what’s at stake for her. Out of Reach starts at the lowest part of the story and ends in the same place.

Arcos’s writing is fine, the pacing is even (the bulk of the story takes place within a 24-hour period), and even though this story fell flat for me, she’s tapped into an interesting enough topic that I would pick up future books by her. The problem is that Out of Reach doesn’t quite do enough in the story to make it memorable, particularly when there are other books about addiction that are stronger. Does this successfully illustrate how addiction can ruin a family? Absolutely. And I’d be silly to not acknowledge that this book has merits — it did earn a National Book Award nomination — but for me, it was simply okay. While I don’t expect to relate to characters in every book I read, I do expect to feel emotional connection on some level. Here, there was nothing. Additionally, I didn’t like the tactic of making the story a circle, of starting and ending in the same place because it simply didn’t push the narrative forward here.

Pass this one off to readers who are interested in stories of addiction. It’s not high literary, so it should appeal to a wider range of readers with that interest. For stories of addiction told from the perspective of those dealing with it, check out Blake Nelson’s Recovery Road or Amy Reed’s Clean, both of which offer deeper insight into the emotional heft of the issues. For an exploration of alcohol addiction, there is Tim Tharp’s The Spectacular Now, too. To Arcos’s credit, I can’t think of another story that so strongly explores the impact of addiction on the family, rather than self, so certainly, her book is a needed addition.

Out of Reach is available now. Review copy purchased by me.