Grief becomes a pathway to love, community, and healing in The Seven O'Clock Club by Amelia Ireland, a touching and startling debut novel that asks how to put into words a sorrow that feels beyond comprehension and whether some wounds can ever mend.

Four strangers meet in an experimental counseling group facilitated by Genevieve, a counselor who explains that her program's purpose is "exploring alternative ways of navigating the grief process... with a small group of people who have recently lost someone." The story opens with an epilogue as a prologue, with Genevieve reflecting on the events about to unfold, confessing to an unknown listener, "For weeks afterwards, I thought I'd lost everything. My job, my credibility, the respect I'd built up with you." She adds ominously that she would not change the past "[e]ven though it didn't work out the way any of us wanted it to."

The foursome could hardly be more different: Victoria, a middle-aged lawyer with "[p]erfect nails, enormous engagement ring. Stupidly shiny hair"; Mischa, a young woman described as "the human equivalent of a baby mouse"; Freya, an interior designer who hadn't left her house in six months until the first session; and Callum, a famous singer-songwriter whose good looks cannot disguise the "tell-tale signs of a haunted human being." Each of them is drowning in a private well of grief and reluctant to share their pain, even though most of them feel isolated in their lives outside counseling. Mischa thought her coworkers might become her friends, but they haven't spoken with her since she had an "episode" at work. Freya and her husband are locked in a silent dance of avoidance. Callum's fame came at the price of his privacy, and his unhealthy coping mechanisms have hurt his career and estranged him from his family. Victoria claims to have no issues with grief or otherwise and to have joined the group only to placate her adored husband, leaving the others to wonder why he would have suggested she join.

Genevieve asks them to share their internal lives with each other a bit at a time, beginning with childhood memories, fostering a bond between them. Walls slowly come down. Callum shares his struggles with substance abuse, "[f]ully expecting to see the usual combination of shock and disgust plastered across their faces. But what I saw staring back at me was the exact opposite." Victoria continues to insist she feels nothing at all about the bereavement she suffered, but she begins to open up about her past. Ties form within the group. Victoria, who had a strained relationship with her mother, begins to watch out for waifish Mischa, who is alone in the world. Freya and Callum develop a deep connection neither of them expected, but the attraction brings turmoil instead of excitement. As the group struggles through setbacks and conflicts, revelations of their individual pain surface. However, when all their truths finally rise to the light, healing comes with difficult choices. Genevieve is no ordinary counselor, and her sessions have an end goal none of the participants could ever have imagined.

This propulsive, heartfelt novel is grounded in moving depictions of bereavement, with each section of chapters named after a Kübler-Ross stage of grief. The character portraiture on its own would make the journey worthwhile here. Each group member has a unique arc and their own reactions to their personal tragedies, from Victoria's stern refusal to feel anything to Freya's depression. The first-person point of view shifts among the foursome, but Ireland has written their voices so distinctly that changes in perspective never leave one uncertain which character has taken over the narration.

The plot progresses through the lens of a profound interiority that homes in on each private experience of grief and highlights its complex and personal nature. The human element stands in especially sharp relief set against the backdrop of the ordinary building where the therapy sessions take place, the spare sketch of the physical setting leaving boundless space for consideration of the dialogue and relationship dynamics. The gradual, stepped reveal of each group member's past keeps suspense and curiosity high. Many readers will speed through the novel in a single sitting, feeling as though the experience passed in a blink thanks to Ireland's nimble pacing and frequent narrative twists. Connections between characters ring true, and Victoria's steady devotion to her husband, Andrew, is a poignant counterpoint to the hesitant yet inescapable chemistry between Freya and Callum.

The Seven O'Clock Club combines Remarkably Bright Creatures's exploration of loss and loneliness with The Midnight Library's themes of choice and possibility. Readers seeking an engrossing emotional journey that deeply engages their sympathy and offers thought-provoking surprises with a touch of magical realism will find much to like in this life-affirming ensemble drama. --Jaclyn Fulwood

Amanda Ireland

Amelia Ireland lives in London but travels extensively to far-flung places. She likes to rock climb, kite surf, and ride horses. She is also a mother to two very dramatic children. Her debut novel, The Seven O'Clock Club, about the journey through grief of four people, will be published by Berkley on April 15, 2025. Ireland recently spoke to Shelf Awareness about inspiration, authenticity, and the comfort of sharing emotions with trusted people.

What inspired you to set a novel in a grief support group?

I had four stories I wanted to tell but also a big plot twist that I had to make sure was as realistic as possible, especially when readers looked back and tried to unpick it. The only way I could think of to get both to work effectively was to set the book within a closed-shop environment which brought everyone together at the same place and time. The novel is about how sharing experiences is key to moving on, and having a support group setting seemed the best way of emphasizing that.

You have several twists over the course of the story. How did you pace these moments?

This may sound unlikely, but from the moment the first major plot twist happened, the rest of the book just flowed out of me without even pausing to think about it too much. Of course, it needed a lot of refining in the editing process, but on the whole I found that every time I hit a bit of a cliffhanger, I knew exactly what I wanted to do next.

Something I have come to realize during the process is that no writer is good at everything. I struggled sometimes, for example, with the everyday descriptive narrative you need in order to set the scene. For some reason I found it hard to imagine characters doing simple things, like picking up a drink, or scratching their nose. But when it came to knowing how best to drive the plot itself forward, that's the bit I found natural to write.

I knew before I even started writing the book that I wanted to take people on a journey where they never quite knew where they were going to end up. Even writing it was a journey for me in that sense because as soon as I'd written an ending to a particular event, I knew I didn't want it to be over, so would then take it off in a different direction. I'd like to hope that even if people don't like all of the twists and turns, at the very least they can say that they had no idea they were coming.

What research did you do into the grieving process and grief counseling? Did anything from your research directly inspire something in the novel?

In terms of research, I read a lot about the grief process from a psychological point of view, particularly online journal articles, although it became clear for the most part that there is no such thing as a standard scientific response when it comes to how people grieve. I can see why the five stages of grief are so well-known, but I can also see why they've been challenged.

As far as grief counseling was concerned, I didn't want it to be too authentic. The whole point of Genevieve's theory is that she's doing something unusual and slightly controversial, and I wanted readers to question her motives. So whilst I did research group therapy techniques, I then strayed away from them entirely.

In terms of inspiring the novel, the stories themselves (bar one) draw heavily on my own personal experience of grief, as well as that of two friends. To be honest, no amount of research can replace experiencing something yourself or watching loved ones go through it, and that made me feel much more confident about tackling the topic head-on. Ultimately no one can argue that your own personal experience isn't believable. That said, humans are all different in how they process emotions, so I wanted to ensure that all of the characters had different responses to what had happened to them.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the one character I did research extensively was Callum. Fame and addiction are not things I had first-hand experience of, and I knew both would have a big influence on his character. I also didn't want to do either an injustice. I interviewed two very honest musicians over the course of six months whilst I was writing my first draft, and it was through talking to them that his character evolved into the person that he became in the book.

Was the process of writing such an emotional, intimate story more challenging or more cathartic?

It was definitely cathartic. I'm very open when it comes to talking about my own experience of grief, but putting words on a page to describe things which had happened to me brought back memories I had buried for a long time. It also made me realise how little of it I probably dealt with when it happened, so the book was a real chance for me to process my own feelings and give myself something back.

Each character in the support group has a distinct dynamic with the other three characters. How did you develop these connections?

Callum became a bit of a linchpin when it came to relationships between the four characters. Because of the way he is and behaves, it was easy to imagine how the others would react. The three women are different in terms of character and circumstances, but they share a lot of the same values so the potential for a deep connection was always there. I suppose their development also came naturally as the book went on because in my head these were real people with genuine emotions and stories to tell.

I cannot tell you how many rewrites I did where the focus was solely on character and the relationships between them. I knew that readers wouldn't identify with the book if they didn't love the characters, and it was important to me that they were likable and had authentic connections with each other. Each one had to have a realistic relationship with every other person in the group, including Genevieve. Otherwise the story wouldn't have been believable either.

What message do you hope your readers will take away from your story?

How important it is to share how you feel with other human beings when times are bad. I'm firmly of the belief that so many of the problems we experience nowadays stem from the fact that we've lost the ability to share without fear of being criticized or judged. That's not helped by the image we are expected to portray of ourselves where everything is seen to be perfect. As much as people think they can work through things themselves, nothing beats having like-minded people share your pain and want to help you.

I also hope that anyone who reads the book who is going through, or has gone through, something similar, takes comfort from the fact that there's always light at the end of the tunnel, even when things don't feel that way. --Jaclyn Fulwood