Going by the cover alone, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when I picked up Hunter’s Hidden Camera by Anthony Auswat. As it turns out, this is a darkly entertaining LGBT coming-of-age psychological thriller that tackles taboo subjects with confidence. Written entirely in first person with an intimate, confessional voice, it’s the kind of novel that grabs you in the opening pages and genuinely doesn’t let go.
The story follows Hunter, a closeted gay high school senior living in a conservative Catholic suburb of Los Angeles called Point Liberty, perpetually overshadowed by his older brother Nash. He is athletic, charismatic, financially supported by their parents, and seemingly perfect in every way. Driven by a mix of jealousy and financial desperation, Hunter installs a hidden spy camera and begins secretly filming his brother in sexual acts, editing the footage and uploading it to a porn site for profit.
What starts as a thrill mutates into something more complicated and more lucrative than he ever anticipated. However, when the camera then appears to capture something far darker, Hunter’s secret begins to collapse around him, pulling his best friend Oscar into the chaos. Soon, Hunter will have far bigger problems on his hands than making some spare change.
The central premise of the novel is original and audacious, and Auswat commits to it fully and without flinching. This is emphatically not a book for readers who need a conventionally likeable protagonist. But what the author does brilliantly is make you understand every step of the way exactly why Hunter does what he does, and so you never feel like you are reading a villain, “I know what an invasion of privacy this is. I mean, I would be pissed beyond belief if anybody did this to me.”
Readers who enjoy morally complex, deeply flawed protagonists will find Hunter utterly compelling. Those who prefer their heroes to be unambiguously sympathetic may find him harder to root for. Luckily, the first-person writing style works brilliantly here, immersing you in his POV and making you understand his motives. Likewise, the relatively short chapters and consistently exciting plot developments keep the story from slowing down or getting boring.
The prose itself is one of the book’s strengths. It’s well-paced, tightly edited, and written with a directness that suits Hunter’s voice perfectly. Auswat has a real ear for authentic teenage dialogue, and the frank gay slang, unapologetic sexuality, and darkly comic observations give the book a modern feel. This is a gay story told from the inside, with no interest in softening its edges for a broader audience, and that is refreshing.
The dark humour threaded throughout is also crucial to the reading experience. Without it, the novel’s heavier themes could easily become overwhelming or relentlessly bleak. Instead, the tonal balance keeps things propulsive and even genuinely funny at times. Hunter’s voice can be wickedly observant, “I can’t predict the future, but for some reason I know from this point forward in my life, my relatively short life, things will never be the same again.”
The supporting cast is well-drawn throughout. Oscar, Hunter’s best friend, is probably the standout. His arc across the novel and how his and Hunter’s relationship develops is one of the book’s best parts. The thriller plot in the novel’s second half escalates entertainingly, pulling in underground sex parties, an organised crime network, a kidnapping, and mounting violence. It gives the novel a propulsive energy and keeps the pages turning with urgency.
There are a few areas where the novel invites mild criticism. The lack of meaningful external consequence for Hunter’s actions may frustrate some readers. The book is also, it bears repeating, quite dark. It addresses suicide, self-harm, homophobia, and exploitation directly and without cushioning. Little of it feels gratuitous, but readers who are sensitive to these themes should go in prepared. Lastly, the constant use of modern slang like “big dick energy” makes the story feel aimed at a younger audience and reduces its timelessness.
Underneath all the darkness, however, the book has a pretty good message about accepting yourself. For young people struggling with their sexuality, you couldn’t find much better than this book, “I’ve hated myself so much for being gay. But now I see that it’s been one of my greatest blessings.”
Overall, Hunter’s Hidden Camera is an entertaining, messy, darkly funny, morally complex gay story told entirely from a gay male perspective, without sanitising or softening its edges for palatability. Auswat clearly knows this world from the inside, and his acerbic voice is what elevates the book. With the same morally murky, compulsively watchable quality as series like You or Euphoria, this is a book perfect for young adults in the LGBT community who are tired of schmaltzy love stories.
Final verdict: Highly recommended for readers who love the intensity of Adam Silvera, the dark humor of Patrick Ness, and the razor-sharp pacing of Gillian Flynn. Think Heartstopper, but much darker, edgier, and this time a happy ending isn’t guaranteed.
You can get your copy of Hunter’s Hidden Camera here!
