A fishhook (baby sunfish-size) of curiosity snagged me in the opening pages and I got sucked into this callow vortex…

I need to remember that what passes for an adult novel these days may lack any real-life experience, but will likely be congested with juvenile storylines, snotty with petty jealousies and childish emotional manipulation; will contain romantic relationships founded on the shallowest of premises and the basest physical attractions; will be stuffed with flashbacks of underage drinking and cringey descriptions of experimental sex; and will be replete with shameless efforts to recuperate an ethereal unfulfilled promise lingering bitterly from a tainted unsatisfactory secondary school experience.

This is not an adult novel, but there’s no way I’d recommend it for anyone under18 either… so that’s a unique quandary. I’m coming to expect it with novels written by this generation of new adults. If you’re 18-28 there is a possibility this might feel like ‘mature’ reading, but don’t be fooled—it only contains ‘mature themes’ (as we call them); it’s got a long way to go before being fit relatable material for responsible mature and experienced working-class adults. Yes, it’s fiction, I know, but it still needs believability.

The storyline involving the step-father was sad, and sadly, it was the realistic part of the novel that tied things to the real world. I understand it’s borderline fantasy (as in: building fantasy worlds to escape nasty, mentally-disturbing and dangerous realities), but the tales are simply told and no real fantasy world is revealed; it’s merely a veneer that shields the broken mind of a traumatised woman, impeded from maturing into a responsible adult by the ugly marks upon her from multiple damaging childhood relationships.

The ending is predictable, but not so bad as you might expect. As an allegory, it’s obvious, and yet remains too far out of reach. It all ends abruptly on a satisfactory note, though, so at least there’s that. 

Also, some of the writing is beautiful…