Host Robin Young speaks with best-selling author Tom Perrotta about his latest novel, “Ghost Town.” The book centers around 13-year-old Jimmy, who’s left reeling the summer after his mother dies. It’s told in the voice of the older Jimmy, who has left New Jersey and become a successful author.
Book excerpt: ‘Ghost Town’
By Tom Perrotta
He was thirteen when his mother died. She’d been diagnosed with lung cancer two years earlier and had hung on for as long as she could—longer than anyone expected—fighting against the odds, waiting for a miracle that never arrived.
At least that was how his sister remembered it—a slow, agonizing ordeal, surgeries and hospital stays, their mother wasting away in her bedroom, coughing up blood, the shadow of her illness spreading over everything, darkening the world to the point where it was actually kind of a relief when she passed away.
It wasn’t like that for Jimmy, though. He was four years younger than Denise, and his family had gone to great lengths to protect him from the reality of what was happening, and his mother was part of the conspiracy. He had a vivid memory of sitting with her in St. Elizabeth’s after her first operation, and somehow finding the courage to ask if she was going to die.
Oh honey, no. She squeezed his hand—the strength of her grip surprised him—and he felt a warm surge of relief spread through his body. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you.
He had believed her; it was as simple as that. He had banished his fears, or at least buried them deeply enough that he didn’t have to stare at them every single day, or imagine a future that might look very different from the past. So yes, Denise was correct: their mother had been sick for a long time and had suffered too much. But Jimmy’s version was also true: her death had come out of nowhere, a sucker punch from a bright blue sky.
He was playing baseball on the night she died.
No one had suggested that he might want to stay home that evening, keep her company, say what needed to be said. On the contrary, both of his parents had encouraged him to go to the game, to be a normal kid, to keep on living his life.
So that was what he did—he put on his uniform, wolfed down a pork roll and cheese sandwich, and told his father he was heading to the ballpark.
I’m sorry I can’t be there, his father said.
It’s okay, Jimmy told him.
His father grunted, like it wasn’t okay, but there was nothing anyone could do about it. He made a quick adjustment to the brim of Jimmy’s cap and patted him twice on the shoulder. That was about as physical as they ever got with each other.
Good luck, he said. I’ll expect a full report.
Jimmy hesitated at the door, or at least that was how he preferred to remember it. Maybe he had a premonition. Or maybe he just felt guilty, heading out to play a game while the rest of his family had stayed behind in a house that smelled like Glade air freshener and something else, the thing that the Glade couldn’t quite manage to hide.
How’s she doing? Jimmy asked.
Okay, his father said. It’s been a long day.
That must have been good enough for Jimmy, because he left without saying goodbye, and missed his chance forever.
Excerpted from “Ghost Town” A Novel by Tom Perrotta. Copyright © 2026. Reprinted by permission of Scribner, an Imprint of Simon & Schuster, LLC
This article was originally published on WBUR.org.
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