From the author of Made in America and The Bastard of Taylor's End comes a strange, claustrophobic descent into violence, denial, and a place that may not exist.
A former middleweight arrives in Marrow's Point, a forgotten borough wedged between a river and a dead industrial district. The rent is cheap, nobody asks questions, and the streets have a habit of leading back to themselves. Beneath a dry cleaner lies The Verge, an illegal fight circuit run by Eldridge, a gaunt and unnerving impresario who speaks about violence, hunger, and probability as though all three obey the same law.
The fighter gives himself a purpose: keep winning, get close to Eldridge, find the money, and take it. Meanwhile, a blocked number calls every day. He never answers.
As the fights grow bloodier, the dates stop matching, hallways lengthen, streets rearrange themselves, and Marrow's Point begins to feel less like somewhere he found than somewhere he was meant to end up. Still, the phone keeps ringing.
Because there are some things a man can outrun only by convincing himself he is running toward something else.
