Chloe Liese positions her book as a feminist retelling of The Taming of the Shrew and hooboy do I have some things to say about that, so here we go, little keyboard, let’s tell the anger of my heart to the good people of the internet.

 

The reason I loathed this book so much has to do with Liese’s handling of the sexually experienced hero/virgin heroine trope. This trope can work in certain contexts, particularly historical romance – where society at the time dictated that women had to remain “pure” for marriage. I’ve also seen it work well in contemporary romance, where we don’t shy away from acknowledging that the hero had prior sexual relationships that were meaningful at the time but are now in the past, or, alternatively, where the hero is regretful of having treated women callously in the past.

 

I’m going to give Liese the benefit of the doubt and assume she had good intentions.  Good intentions aside, I think she failed forking spectacularly. If I could I would hurtle my copy of this book into the sun. But alas, this is the library’s copy. And if I destroy it I’ll just have to spend money on a replacement.

 

Here’s the TL;DR: Christopher was so in love with Kate he fucked everyone but her and didn't apologize for it. Feminism?!?

 

First: Liese sets up Christopher as an “honest” and “generous” lover. Christopher is up front with women that he only wants a one-night stand and “focuses on their pleasure” so it’s worth their while. It’s not the flex Liese thinks it is for Christopher to throw these ladies a bone when he is the one asking to go home with them. In fact, it’s the bare minimum. And listen – being really into casual sex is fine in theory! But the reason Christopher only wants one-night stands is that the object of his true affection (Kate) is unattainable. See, Christopher isn’t really into casual sex, he’s just using it as a coping mechanism to keep Kate at arm’s length and because he's never heard of therapy. Because, for romance novel reasons, he’s been madly in love with her forever. He’s also not taking his conquests to his house, which is his slowly dilapidating childhood home he hasn’t upkept or altered since his parent’s death. Which is also . . . troubling. 

 

So no, Christopher doesn’t lead these women on. He throws them a couple orgasms and writes them a ‘thanks and goodbye’ note (literally you guys). But the real takeaway is that these women are disposable bodies for his sexual gratification. They don’t have names. They don’t have faces. They don’t have personalities. From Christopher’s own words, it doesn’t seem like he’s even particularly discerning – basically, any hetero and willing lady will do. Christopher notes he never leaves his contact info for women in these notes, maybe acknowledging on some level that some of these women might have sought out a relationship after the fact if they’d known how to find him. 

 

Second: Christopher puts Kate in an ivory tower. Ever heard of the Madonna Whore complex? That’s the patriarchal notion that women are either good and chaste (27-year-old virgin Kate) or bad and promiscuous (nameless, faceless, countless women Christopher has slept with). Once Christopher finally tames Kate (in bed! lulz!), all is well. Christopher looks up therapists the morning after as he makes her pancakes. He can finally acknowledge his character flaws and work to right them now that he has the love of a “good” woman. Sorry whoooores. Christopher doesn’t have to say mean things or think mean thoughts about these women for them to fit into this Whore dynamic – it’s enough that they don’t matter beyond their parts.

 

Third: Liese seems to think sexual prowess makes a man a feminist king? Girl, a man can give you 10 orgasms and still be an asshole. It’s cool Christopher is, like, freakishly into pleasuring Kate. It’s always a good sign when a romantic partner is about orgasm equity. But Christopher in some sense still views Kate as the weaker sex outside the bedroom, needing his protection. This is most apparent in how overbearing he is about walking her places. And look, I get it, cities can be dangerous. For me it was done throughout the book in a very heavy-handed “you can’t take care of yourself so I have to” way. It felt dismissive. It felt possessive. And last I checked, we are not in a dark romance nor was Liese trying to position Christopher as an alphahole. 

 

Fourth: Kate’s reluctance to sleep with Christopher unless he can commit to her and assure her it will be something meaningful. See, if this were a historical romance the heroine would be insisting on marriage. But because this is the wrong motherfucking subgenre for this shit, we have to have some handwringing here so readers know to set Kate apart from the faceless women Christopher has slept with. Yes honey, he assures her, you’re special. Why in the internalized misogyny do we need these formal assurances if we’re trying not to make a big friggen deal that Christopher is taking Kate’s virginity? Oh right, because we want readers to know Kate is not going to be another “fallen maiden.” She’s different. She’s special. She gets to stay on her Christopher pedestal. She’s still a good woman.

 

Finally, the window dressing. Christopher runs an ethical hedge fund (HAHAHAHAHAHA) and offers his employees kickass benefits. Kate uses her photography to capture the world’s injustices. Christopher suffers from a chronic illness. Kate is neurodivergent. That’s all great. But this book perpetuates antiquated and harmful gender norms while being billed as something else. It doesn't matter how swoon the hero's job is, because it's just extraneous fluff without the characterization to back it up.

 

 

I’ll just end this review by reminding you that at one point Kate says “you gave me eight orgasms last night” and Christopher corrects her and says ~aCtUaLLy~ it was ten. OK Ted Mosby. Barf. Goodnight.