A precocious boy blurs the lines of fact and fiction imaging himself as a film-noir detective and attempting to solve some big questions in his young life.
“It all began on a Friday. On this particular day, day one and a Friday a misunderstanding happened. In turn this misunderstanding led me to crack my first case and expose a conspiracy that ran so deep it involved everyone, all the way up to the chief of police. Oh, and there were broads. This is the story I am about to tell you. But I feel like I should introduce myself first. It makes things easier if you know who I am. My name is Nathan. I’m twelve years old and I live on Accidental Street. So now you know.”

That Friday night, at a family dinner, Grandpa Meryl finds Nathan and gives him words of wisdom about life and a stern warning; it is gloomy and depressing so, live while you can. Then Grandpa Meryl has a heart attack and is rushed to the hospital. Nathan digs through his family’s stories from his angry grandmother in Israel and her marriage, through food and vivid markets in Jerusalem. From his dad’s strange sayings translated from Hebrew to English, his obsession with handball, and his Aunt’s love for mid-century-modern architecture and baking. From his mom’s passion for literature and his sister’s conservative outlook, to his brother’s depression and love for Oprah and visits to the hospital, Nathan’s vivid imagination springs to life. He’s no longer a precocious kid, but a film noir detective attempting to solve the mystery and sort through suspects of admiration.