What’s “literary” about this? Between the awfully cliche metaphors to a painfully trite depiction of love after trauma, I found this kind of impressively bad. The writing is like what an alien might imagine sex is like, and the depictions of polyamory feel like someone’s attempt to write stereotypes of poly. There are several reused metaphors and erroneous descriptions that make the word "literary" do some heavy lifting. Like that's fine, but the book tries so hard in the beginning to make you think it's "literary" or particularly sexually representative. (I'm thinking of a particular Oreo right now.)

The infamous dildo riding party ended up being one of the less sexually unappealing stories; sure, everyone knows how that kind of penetrative sex is incredibly dangerous, but at least it was interesting. Despite the author trying so hard to show you how she totally gets consent and pronoun usage, there are some pretty damn questionable aspects of consent throughout this, like waking up a lover with oral (something that works in male-gaze porn, but...).

Props to the book though for never being unentertaining, even if the cloying emotional appeals felt insulting. Gosh, I am so impressed by this, but not for any good reasons.