The De Luca family has fine veins moving between them, pulsating with fierce love, anger, grief, and pain. The children’s abusive father died, and they have become displaced, moved across the cold ocean to start fresh. Throughout The Steps, an intriguing, poignant and lyrical novel from poet and emerging author Juliano Staffino, we wade through the complex waters of a traumatised family, become unnerved by a man on the brink of madness, and reflect on the nature of trauma and loss.
The novel follows the dutiful and inquisitive protagonist Derek, the second husband of the recently widowed Sophie and stepfather of her five eclectic and unpredictable children. The story, at first, very much feels like a Shirley Jackson novel: Derek marrying his childhood sweetheart following the death of her mysterious former husband. He romanticises her, glazing over the years they have spent apart, and takes on the role of father to her grieving children, moving them from their life in suburban Canada to his childhood home on the English coast. Yet, once they move in with him, in the jagged isolation of murky cliffs, strange cracks begin to show; the two eldest, Angelo and Em are violent, both ruthlessly harming each other, but remaining fiercely and brutally protective of their siblings. Jules, the middle child, is deeply calm and peaceful, curious, but remains oddly passive in the face of constant violence. Emilio dreams of mirroring his brother, but feels frustrated by his invisibility, and the youngest, Biaga, is completely mute.
Derek strives to be the best stepfather he can be to the children, but he becomes increasingly strained through the course of the story. Following multiple traumatic events, puzzling and contradictory revelations, and strange nights of cultish ritual, we are left questioning everything we see of this family. What is the true nature of these children? What happened to their father before he died? And what strange things are they gathering to do at night?
Throughout the main part of the novel, this intrigue is constant; lines weaving the characters together quiver and break as the family falls further into crisis. Derek’s increasing frustration makes us question the nature of his fatherly role, and the children’s eldritch actions and half truths makes us wonder what truly happened with their late father. Constantly, something feels as though it is crawling and lurking beneath the façade of this family, supposedly saved by Derek’s generosity, yet still entirely broken and threatening to explode.
However, whilst the story is marked by tragedy, trauma, and death, to name it simply a horror story would be an oversight. The Steps is a complex story of the way love can rear its beautiful and strange head. The children rage and harm themselves and each other, yet love and protect each other fiercely. They protect the truth about the past from Derek, preserving it, but perhaps endangering themselves in the process. Their true intentions are vague and in a constant and raw state of flux, but Zaffino treats these fragile bonds with care and precision; his skills as a poet are evident and his prose is beautiful. As the plot moves forwards and shifts sideways, we grow with the family, and see how each member feels the pain of the other. We have tender moments that mark this deep empathy, such as when (years after another tragic event) Emilio “feels a pang for his brother, who is still stuck, suspended in that moment at the top of the stairs, and all those little moments leading up to it.” Moments like this illuminate how, instead of a focus on revealing a great truth or mystery, it is centred on emotional healing, shared pain, and the constant presence of love.
“These children were spectres, hanging over him not malevolently but encouragingly.”
Alongside the complex picture being painted here, the reader will also notice the unique structure of the novel. There is no dialogue in the piece; instead it's based on Derek’s inner world and how he perceives the damaged family life around him. Additionally, the form is somewhat jarring; the story arrives in fragments, perhaps reflecting the brokenness of a grieving family, hauntingly trying to find a way to rebuild itself. It is largely left to the reader to put the broken narrative together and build a wider picture of the path the family is going down. Whilst this adds intrigue and thoughtful moments, it also left me feeling a little too far removed from the heart of the story. I wanted to connect to the children through their dialogue and develop a deeper understanding of their profound emotional world, through both the words spoken and the ones concealed. This lack of connection made the last third of the novel, in which we see the children’s lives a few years later, a little bit less compelling.
“The monster turned around and Derek saw his own face, blood on his own knuckles.”
Despite this, however, Zaffino’s work remains deeply brave and intriguing, and comments on the true nature of how grief and trauma create bonds within families. We live in a cultural era of mixed genres and this novel is no exception; blending thriller and psychological horror with domestic drama, coming of age, and an emotion-driven plot. Ultimately, we are always at least one step away from the truth of the De Luca family, but Zaffino’s lyrical prose and poignant emotional writing gives us that vital keyhole view into their complex, fraught and beautiful world. The trauma of the past and the fury of the present are thinly veiled in The Steps, and I felt heartbroken for the children. Despite this, it was difficult not to feel uplifted by the defiance of the De Lucas and their ability to heal as a collective, or to feel hopeful for their apparent brighter road ahead.
Juliano Zaffino is an accomplished poet who published All Those Bodies And They’re Moving in 2020 with The YourShelf Press. His work has inspired the ethereal work of singer Florence Welch, and has been published in various prestigious lit magazines. The Steps, published in Spring 2026, marks his first novel.