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howlinglibraries 's review for:
Bad Romance
by Heather Demetrios
First of all, this is one hell of a heavy book, so I want to start off by saying that the book (and this review) come with trigger warnings for abuse (in every possible way: mental, emotional, verbal, physical, sexual, and parental), attempted suicide, and many suicidal thoughts.
With that said, let me be candid: this is the most authentic, honest, and true-to-life portrayal of an abusive relationship that I have ever seen in a book. I have never wished so badly not to relate to a story, but if you changed a few names and faces, you would find a younger me between these pages. And if you, too, can find yourself mirrored here, please proceed with the utmost self-care, because Grace’s story is a tough one to read, but it’s even tougher to remember in your own experiences.
Bad Romance’s depiction of abuse is one that many survivors know too well: a relationship that starts off beautifully and carefree. If there are red flags (and let’s be honest—there almost always are), they’re quiet ones, easy enough to ignore or explain away. Have you ever heard the story of the frog in boiling water? If you drop the frog right in, it will jump out immediately—but if you put him in while the water is lukewarm, and slowly up the temperature, the poor thing will never know the danger it’s in until it’s too late and the damage points have started racking up. That’s this story.
What makes Bad Romance unique, besides its pull-no-punches attitude and the authenticity that could come only from the heart of someone who’s been there (and sadly, Heather Demetrios has), is the format that it’s written in. It’s a mixture of first and second persons, and it reads almost like a long letter from Grace to Gavin, set after she has gotten out of the situation. While its time frame makes it hopeful, as you always know that there will be an “after”, the phrasing directed right at her abuser gives it a spurned, angry edge that’s practically tangible. I feel that it’s a brilliant writing decision for the story at hand; while it wouldn’t work for every contemporary novel, it magnifies the impact of this one tenfold.
There’s also a lot of chatter about suicide in this book: before the relationship forms, Gavin has survived one suicide attempt already, and throughout the book, his endless, looming threat to try again acts as a heavy-handed and disgusting manipulation tactic in the relationship. That said, I appreciated that I never felt as though depression or suicidal ideation was being demonized in any way; Heather Demetrios makes it clear that these issues are related to his manipulative and abusive tendencies, not just his depression or anxiety.
There’s also something to be said for the fact that Grace is living in an abusive home, where she faces constant neglect, harassment, and assault from both her mother and step-father. There’s a lot of psychology to unpack behind the fact that many individuals who miss or overlook the early red flags in abusive relationships do so because terrible behaviors have already been normalized in their lives (hence “generational curses” and cycles of the like). My only complaint is that I do feel like Grace’s mother is let off the hook rather easily near the end of the book, but I feel that it’s important to remember that abuse victims can still abuse others, too, and there’s no excuse or justification for that.
There’s a lot more I could tell you about this book, like the ways it made me recognize behaviors in my past relationships that I hadn’t faced yet, or the passages that helped me reevaluate my own past and recognize the healing I’m still working towards. I could tell you that certain aspects of this story paralleled the end of my worst relationship like a perfect mirror, and how much I appreciated the way Heather Demetrios doesn’t shy away from pointing out the problems in some of those coping mechanisms, too. I could tell you that, on a happier note, there’s an underlying current throughout the story of musicals and theatre and plays, and there’s girl-on-girl friendship and loyalty for days.
But honestly, at the end of the day, all I want to tell you is that this book is incredible and cathartic and honest and brutal and bold. And I want to tell you that if you, too, have been in Grace’s shoes, it can be so much better than that. If you need help or healing, please seek it, because you deserve the stars.
You can find this review and more on my blog, or you can follow me on twitter, bookstagram, or facebook!
With that said, let me be candid: this is the most authentic, honest, and true-to-life portrayal of an abusive relationship that I have ever seen in a book. I have never wished so badly not to relate to a story, but if you changed a few names and faces, you would find a younger me between these pages. And if you, too, can find yourself mirrored here, please proceed with the utmost self-care, because Grace’s story is a tough one to read, but it’s even tougher to remember in your own experiences.
Maybe the only way you really know you love someone is if they can break you with a single sentence.
Bad Romance’s depiction of abuse is one that many survivors know too well: a relationship that starts off beautifully and carefree. If there are red flags (and let’s be honest—there almost always are), they’re quiet ones, easy enough to ignore or explain away. Have you ever heard the story of the frog in boiling water? If you drop the frog right in, it will jump out immediately—but if you put him in while the water is lukewarm, and slowly up the temperature, the poor thing will never know the danger it’s in until it’s too late and the damage points have started racking up. That’s this story.
I don’t realize now, but this is the moment. The moment when the rest of my life in high school—the rest of my whole life—will change. The moment when I begin to lose a part of myself I’ll have to fight like hell to get back.
What makes Bad Romance unique, besides its pull-no-punches attitude and the authenticity that could come only from the heart of someone who’s been there (and sadly, Heather Demetrios has), is the format that it’s written in. It’s a mixture of first and second persons, and it reads almost like a long letter from Grace to Gavin, set after she has gotten out of the situation. While its time frame makes it hopeful, as you always know that there will be an “after”, the phrasing directed right at her abuser gives it a spurned, angry edge that’s practically tangible. I feel that it’s a brilliant writing decision for the story at hand; while it wouldn’t work for every contemporary novel, it magnifies the impact of this one tenfold.
The sad swims through your veins, dives right into the middle of your chest with no help at all from me.
There’s also a lot of chatter about suicide in this book: before the relationship forms, Gavin has survived one suicide attempt already, and throughout the book, his endless, looming threat to try again acts as a heavy-handed and disgusting manipulation tactic in the relationship. That said, I appreciated that I never felt as though depression or suicidal ideation was being demonized in any way; Heather Demetrios makes it clear that these issues are related to his manipulative and abusive tendencies, not just his depression or anxiety.
Now I look at that girl who adores you, who thinks she’s safe with you, and I want to scream at her to jump out of that car and run like hell. Because you won’t be her happy place for long.
There’s also something to be said for the fact that Grace is living in an abusive home, where she faces constant neglect, harassment, and assault from both her mother and step-father. There’s a lot of psychology to unpack behind the fact that many individuals who miss or overlook the early red flags in abusive relationships do so because terrible behaviors have already been normalized in their lives (hence “generational curses” and cycles of the like). My only complaint is that I do feel like Grace’s mother is let off the hook rather easily near the end of the book, but I feel that it’s important to remember that abuse victims can still abuse others, too, and there’s no excuse or justification for that.
This is something else I will learn while I am with you—not now, but later: there are so many ways to drown.
There’s a lot more I could tell you about this book, like the ways it made me recognize behaviors in my past relationships that I hadn’t faced yet, or the passages that helped me reevaluate my own past and recognize the healing I’m still working towards. I could tell you that certain aspects of this story paralleled the end of my worst relationship like a perfect mirror, and how much I appreciated the way Heather Demetrios doesn’t shy away from pointing out the problems in some of those coping mechanisms, too. I could tell you that, on a happier note, there’s an underlying current throughout the story of musicals and theatre and plays, and there’s girl-on-girl friendship and loyalty for days.
But honestly, at the end of the day, all I want to tell you is that this book is incredible and cathartic and honest and brutal and bold. And I want to tell you that if you, too, have been in Grace’s shoes, it can be so much better than that. If you need help or healing, please seek it, because you deserve the stars.
National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE
National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-HOPE
National Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD
Love is Respect: 1-866-331-9474, loveisrespect.org, or text "love is" to 22522
You can find this review and more on my blog, or you can follow me on twitter, bookstagram, or facebook!