The Benefactors by Wendy Erskine

Wendy Erskine’s debut novel The Benefactors is an impressive, polyphonic exploration of class, consent, motherhood, and power set against the backdrop of contemporary Belfast. Expanding on the emotional depth and narrative control of her acclaimed short story collections Sweet Home and Dance Move, Erskine proves just as adept on the broader canvas of the novel. Her writing here is unsparing yet humane, political yet deeply personal, always attuned to the dissonance between public narratives and private realities.

At the centre of The Benefactors is an alleged sexual assault: three privileged teenage boys are accused of raping Misty Johnston at a house party. Misty, a working-class girl with dreams of working in special effects makeup, is already navigating marginalisation, made starker by her sideline on a camgirl site called Benefactors. The boys—Chris, Rami and Lineup—are the sons of Frankie, Miriam and Bronagh respectively. Each mother responds with varying degrees of denial, entitlement, and manipulation, using their social standing and influence to protect their sons. Meanwhile, Misty’s adoptive father Boogie, a tender and morally grounded presence, tries to navigate a justice system tilted against people like them.

Erskine’s gift for character is evident in every voice: from Boogie’s quiet devotion to the magnificent Nan D’s blistering sarcasm, every line rings with authenticity. The novel’s dialogue is particularly impressive—crackling with wit, fury, and pathos. It’s a Belfast novel in the truest sense: bleak and funny in equal measure, always steeped in social texture.

Erskine shifts perspective frequently, assembling a mosaic of voices and flashbacks that gradually reveal the emotional and social stakes. While this structure demands close attention, it allows for a complex meditation on complicity, institutional failure, and the fine line between empathy and self-interest. Frankie, Miriam and Bronagh, while deeply flawed, are never caricatured. Their maternal instincts are real, but they are warped by class privilege, ambition, and fear.

What makes The Benefactors exceptional is Erskine’s refusal to moralise. She shows how power shields the guilty, how victims are disbelieved, and how justice often fractures along class lines. Yet she also leaves space for warmth, especially in the loving, unconventional relationships between Misty, Boogie, and her younger sister Gen. These quieter moments give the novel its heart.

While the final chapters may not fully crack open the trauma they orbit, The Benefactors remains a deeply intelligent, moving, and incisive work. It’s a brilliant portrait of modern-day Northern Ireland and a powerful examination of who gets protected, and at what cost.

Reviewer: Chris Reed

Hachette