After a bit of a break reading other stuff, I'm back with a review for my 8th Aspen Words Literary Prize 2022 Longlist read. This one also happened to have won this year's National Book Award, so I was heading into it prepared for some intense literary fiction and some high expectations. Plus, it was set in North Carolina, so I figured that close-to-home setting might cause it to be particularly moving for me. (I tried to temper those expectations down a bit, to be fair, but y'all know that's hard to do.) 

 

I feel like I'm going to write this little plot blurb, only to turn around and tell you in the review that this is not really an accurate feel for the book, but here we go anyway. This is a dual-perspective novel. The first POV we get is that of an unnamed author on a book tour across the country promoting his recent best-selling novel. He's dealing with quite a few personal demons, including alcoholism, lack of meaning/direction in life, and mental health struggles that cause him to lose touch with reality based on, as becomes clearer over time, some past trauma/loss. The second POV we get is that of Soot, a young Black boy from somewhere rural in America, and his daily experiences as a Black boy in school, with family, and in a greater community context. Then there's The Kid, an amalgamation of Soot and the unnamed author's past self and all the other young Black boys in America, that starts "visiting" the author during his travels. And as the novel reaches its culmination, the pasts and fates of these characters meld together in a way that holds deep messages about the reality of being a Black man in America. 

 

 So those are the "facts" of the plot and characters. But really, as promised, that really doesn't capture the happenings or uniquities of this novel at all. Let me start with the writing, because that was a centerpiece of this novel, for me. This was some of the most unique structuring and story-telling (in the most literal “telling of a story” sense) that I have ever read. From the start, there was a clear building to a convergence of past and present, reality and imaginary, so that even though I felt a bit lost for the first large chunk of the book, plot-wise, that build kept me moving forwards and on the edge of my seat with anticipation. As a personal preference, I don't usually read things that lean into satire (I haven't liked the genre since my 9th grade English teacher made us read Animal Farm), and this novel does strongly lean into the ridiculous and absurd and extreme. That being said, I recognize the quality of it here, the intelligence in the satire, and also deeply respect that, sometimes it's the only way to truly address and call out a reality that is so unreal as to be satirical itself. I know that's the genius of the genre. So, while it set this book up to not be a new favorite for me, the hardcore way that the line of real and imaginary is played with here, the delicacy of the line between the acerbic and the sincere, the urgency of tone, is a a literary masterstroke that showcases how close reality actually is to the unreal. 

 

And now, the plot, to the best of my ability. For starters, the fact that some things are real, some are imagined, and even in the cases of "real" things, there is jumping in time between sections of narration, this is one of those books that you just have to give up the reins on and let it drag you along, assuming that things clear up (more or less) eventually. And they do, mostly...enough to make me feel like I had mostly "understood" it by the time I finished. So, I'll take it. I will say though, that overall things felt uneven. That urgency I mentioned earlier was strong in the beginning and end, but there was a whole section in the middle (the part that had a cameo from Nic Cage), where things slowed and I got a little lost. Maybe it was a reference I didn't understand, and then it would be on me, but I felt like, while so many of the other chapters were shot after shot to the heart, that part felt comparatively distant/confused. I did love the way the various narratives did finally converge, in most ways expected, but with some unexpected aspects - my anticipation felt fulfilled. 

 

Along with the writing, the themes and topical foci were the other highlights of this novel. Mott really delves into, without flinching or compromising, being Black, specifically a Black man, in America. He paints such a visceral picture of the way Black kids in America cannot be kids, lose their innocence so early, what they must do to survive, because of the way America sees them (and, particularly, in context of police brutality). He connects this heartbreakingly then to how that breaks parents in turn, because of what they must teach/say/do to help their children survive. Mott then attacks the other side of that perspective, towards the end, when our narrator has a (possibly imaginary) conversation with a cop that murdered a Black child. And just wow, the way that in such short order he is able to capture and demonstrate (if the reader is willing to really comprehend) the essence of the contradictory expectations, and complete lack of cognitive dissonance in white Americans, is...phew. Mott also crushes it with the metaphors (or at least, I read them as metaphors). The invisibility of The Kid as a representation of the invisibility of Black people in the US and the narrator's “condition” as a representation of mental health issues related to/coping mechanisms  for trauma were particularly strong ones. And finally, Mott's focus on the idea that disappearing seems like the only way to escape the obsessive fear and anger that come as part of the Black community, when learning to love yourself as a Black person seems impossible, when all signs/education point to a past and future of trauma, and any evidence of other realities and options are buried deep - it's a heavy reality to witness, to say nothing of the living of it. 

 

I'm not really sure how to close this review, in the same way that I was struggling to write it altogether. This novel was unlike anything I have ever read before, in all its intensity and farce. It's emotional, but the style keeps the writer at a distance in some ways. It's unyielding in its condemnation and yet its satirical nature forces the reader to have to want to accept that condemnation in order to make it effective. It's heartbreaking and ridiculous and I cannot figure out how to respond to that combination. But also, it's forcing the issue, these realities that must be grappled with, just by existing and naming them. And the absolutely original way it does that is cause for respect; I see why it's gotten the critical acclaim that it has.  

 

“Anything worthwhile takes time. Maybe that's what time is for: to give meaning to the things we do; to create a context in which we can linger in something until, finally, we have given it something invaluable, something that we can never get back: time. And once we've invested the most precious commodity that we will ever have, it suddenly has meaning and importance. SO maybe time is just how we measure meaning. Maybe time is how we best measure love.” 

 

“But the words we say never seem to live up to the ones inside our head.” 

 

“'You’re supposed to say something. You're supposed to speak about the Black condition! You're supposed to have a voice!' / 'A voice? What voice? The voice of my people? Always? Every second of every day of my life? That's what Black people are always supposed to do? And the Black condition? What kind of condition is that? You mean as in an existing state of being? Or a condition as in a state of health - like an illness?'” 

 

“You will forget him. [...] This boy is only the first of many that you will meet over your life. They will stack upon one another, week by week. You'll try to keep them in your head but, eventually, you'll become too full and they'll spill out and be left behind. And then, one day, you'll grow older and you'll realize that you've forgotten his name - the name of the first dead Black boy that you promised yourself you wouldn't forget - and you'll hate yourself. You'll hate your memory. You'll hate the world. You'll hate the way you've failed to stop the flow of dead bodies that have piled up in your mind. You'll try to fix it, and fail, and you'll drown in rage. You'll turn on yourself for not fixing everything and you'll drown in sadness. And you'll do it over, and over, and over again for years and, one day, you'll have a son and you'll see him staring down the same road that you've been on and you'll want to say something that fixes him, something that saves him from it all...and you won't know what to say.” 

 

“It’s the soundtrack of America right now. The jam we all bump and grind to. People being shot is the way we mark the passage of time now.” 

 

“…that doesn’t change the fact that it’s impossible to care about everyone. So you pick your battles. You limit how much you invest into the world and into people. It's a type of emotional triage.” 

 

“But only certain tax brackets get the luxury of knowing something will kill you and being able to choose not to do it.” 

 

“Even with figments of your imagination, it's best to be as honest and forthcoming as possible.” 

 

“If nobody can see me [...] then what difference does it make what I do? Especially if I'm only hurting myself." / "Just because somebody can't see you doesn't mean you're allowed to do something like that. […] Because you have to believe you matter, whether someone else sees you or not.” 

 

“It’s amazing how much you can get used to the intolerable, right up until the moment when you realize you have to pass it on to some pair of bright eyes that have no choice but to be dimmed by it.” 

 

“The irony is enough to fill me up to the gills and beyond. So my stomach does all it can: it vomits up all of the chocolate, all the Twizzlers, all the lynched dreams, the redlined hopes, the colorblind promises that got Stopped-and-Frisked, the brutal, melanin-driven epigenetically inherited Americana that nodoby - not even me - wants to talk about...it all comes erupting out of me faster than the red glare of those famous rockets bursting in air.” 

 

"No. I'm not sure Black people can be happy in this world. There's just too much of a backstory of sadness that's always clawing at their heels. And no matter how hard you try to outrun it, life always comes through with those reminders letting you know that, more than anything, they're just a part of an exploited people and a denied destiny and all you can do is hate your past and, by proxy, hate yourself." 

 

"She still cared enough to show love to her son, but the way she showed her love was hardened." 

 

"But the talk of anger and frustration is careful to avoid the conversation having to do with sadness. Because, ultimately, it's sadness that sits at the bedrock of all the anger these people feel every day. Sadness at being left behind and left out of so much of what everyone else seems to have in this country, in this world." 

 

“You know how it is. It...it just gets too big. All of it. Stacks up every fucking day and none of us can make a dent in it, so we just sorta move through it without ever letting it get its hooks in. It's survival. It's how you stay sane. It's how you stay alive. And there ain't no way to change that.” 

 

“But, in the end, as it is with all of us, he could not be protected from the world.” 

 

“We want the great history we see in others. And all we're ever given is the story of being in pain and being forced to overcome.” 

There is something about the title of this book that felt aggressive in a way that made me not want to read it, despite the fact that it was compared to Samantha Irby (whose essay collections I love) and seemed topically to be spot on for something I'd relate to and appreciate. I cannot say why I had that reaction to the title, but I also can't deny that I had the reaction. However, it remained on my radar. As I was checking out the 2022 Lambda Literary Award Finalists (https://lambdaliterary.org/awards/current-finalists/) a few weeks ago, adding myriad books to my TBR (of course), I noticed that it had made the shortlist for Bisexual Nonfiction. And apparently being thrown by the title was not a strong enough reaction to stop me from checking it out from my library that very same day. 

In their essay collection Greedy: Notes from a Bisexual Who Wants Too Much, Winston explores bisexuality (of course) from both a personal and a more expansive/theoretical perspective, gender (again both for herself and more widely), and sex itself. Starting with some of the first inklings that she may be bi (or maybe she just really admires those girls?), Jen takes us through her lifelong journey of sexuality and gender, including the ways (internal and external) it was dismissed and the general (and deep-seated) fear of not being "queer enough" and the many ways she sought to adress that feeling. This collection holds many insights into growing up and maturing into yourself sexually and as a female, both universally and specific to the questions that come with bisexuality, which Winston addresses it all with an intelligent humor that made me snort unexpectedly, chuckle in recognition, and laugh out loud in real amusement. There are also a few essays that tackle more serious themes of identity, sexual expectations and assault, queerphobia/biphobia, and greater philosophical questions of being queer that go past who you're sleeping with and look more deply into what it means to be who you are on your own terms, in a way that is accessibly academic and with an inclusion of voices with greater intersectionality than Winston's own. 

Well first, the vibe of this entire collection was spot on, chock full of hilarity, presented right alongside more sincere commentary and self-realization. To start with a a very personal note, the two pre-chapters, addressing imposter syndrome about being “queer” enough and defining what bisexuality is and is not, both hit home hard. It was amazing how, so quickly, so many things I’ve thought/felt had already been addressed; it’s like Winston was in my head, and that makes this reader feel much less alone. And as they write in the opening: there is power in feeling seen, even if it’s silly, and there’s so much here specific to my own experiences and I can’t help but feel that deep satisfaction in being seen in these pages (like,  not understanding what same-sex crushes actually mean because you also have the “normal” opposite sex ones!). That being said, there were some parts that I identified with much less. A number of essays address sex (having it, doing it badly, with men and women, different kinks, threesomes, etc.) that were fascinating to read (Winston's writing never let's you down - high quality and hilarious all the way through), but were less compelling because there wasn't as much that I personally related to. Obviously that's going to happen with any memoir-style read, eventually, but it was just a little more jarring of a transition here, becasue the first few essays (and then others scattered throughout), were just so on point for me. 

As I said, there were also some more serious themes that Winston addresses in this collection. Specifically, from (and for) a white cis non-disabled female POV, there was a nice (necessary) intro guide to taking the ideas of fighting patriarchy and white supremacy past the superficial, in a more intersectional/inclusive way. She does this by both including (with credit) philosophies from other queer thinkers/leaders with identities different than her own, as well as being honest about the ways she has failed in the past in recognizing and using her own privilege. It's a great example of owning your own identity and past and committing to doing better as you learn more. I also loved her explorations of queer imposter syndrome and erasure by/from people you come out to (based on assumptions about what "qualifies" or "deserves" a queer label). The closing essays where being queer as a radical concept of identity and not related solely to your romantice partners, and the way that type of expansive thinking could lead to collective liberation and more, were idealistic but fulfilling to read. The one note I'll make here is that many of Winston's personal experiences around being bisexual do come attached to experiences of sexual interatctions and acts of sex. I know this is a memoir, and therefore based on what the author's own life/experiences have been, but with all the recognition of other identities they don't personally hold in these pages, I wish I could have seen a little more discussion of being bi unattached to sex, as not recognizing that aspect does feel a bit like overlooking the ace community.       

Winston captured so many feels that resonated deeply with me here, and with such precision. For the parts I saw myself in, these essays hit deeply (and the others were still definitely entertaining). This collection has humor and research and queer questioning/philosophy all fantastically rolled up together. It's messy and honest and funny and insightful and educational. And it's well worth the read, weird aggressive title vibes notwithstanding! 

“Bi culture is everything. Which means bi culture is nothing. As annoying as this logic loop might be, it reflects exactly what it's like to be bisexual: to be told simultaneously that you are asking too much and that you don’t exist.” 

 

“We’re all seeking information about how to act, how to be, or how we already are. It doesn't matter if it's wrong. It doesn't matter if it could apply to anyone. If it speaks to us by name, just like that: We feel seen.” 

 

“We felt lust or something like it: a drive to consume the entire world and to have it consume us back.” 

 

“I found inspiration from everyone there, but always felt guilty about this - why look up to someone for being themselves when being themselves shouldn't have been a challenge to begin with?” 

 

“Her point was that if we only focus on equality, we'll only end up achieving assimilation. While that's still a form of progress, there's a blatant cognitive dissonance in associating 'queer liberation' with access to straight white institutions.” 

I read my first book by Ward, her novel Sing, Unburied, Sing, a few years ago. It was an affecting reading experience, emotional and expressive, lyrical and illuminative. But the story style, the slow-moving family saga and ghost story mix, is one that I have to be in the right mindspace for, because it can easily cause me to become disassociated from the characters and univested overall, which isn't really fair to the author. Knowing that, it took me a while to pick up this second work by Ward, but I'm glad I waited until the right time because this nonfiction was, if anything, even harder (emotionally) to read than her fiction. 

Men We Reaped is a work of nonfiction that combines memoir and mini biographies. Ward chronicles the history of her family and her own youth/adolescence/early adulthood, alternated with chapters about the lives of five men close to her, including her own younger brother, who (over a short span of five years in the early 2000s) all died. Interspersed throughout the book are facts, statistics, questions and philosophies about why, about how being a Black man in America contributes to so many causes of death, from suicide to drugs to accidents to violence to "bad luck," in ways large and small, obvious and subtle. 

First of all, reading this was a lot. It's not a very long book, and having the audiobook on hand as well means it's one that I would normally have sped right through, but that was not possible here. I purposefully took breaks throughout, reading other things (lighter things) to give my emotions a break. So trying to imagine how Ward must have felt living through these years, not just reading about it secondhand, and then opening up about it to share so publicly, is nigh on impossible. A note here: if you have a brother (especially a younger one), as I do, reading about Ward's relationship with her brother, how it changed as they got older and their lives took different trajectories, and the aftermath of his sudden death is...a struggle. It hits differently, especially hard, so just FYI. There is so much grief in these pages, as Ward revisits each of her relationships with the five men whose deaths she's recounting. And there is grief for herself and her family as well, as she details their history and day-to-day reality living in MIssissippi. The complex mix of reactions to the truths of their lives is so clearly communicated: Ward is able to conceptually understand the way that systemic racism and centuries of oppression/suppression have set up the failures and hardships she (they all) endured while also honestly telling how even knowing all that doesn't help mitigate completely the rejection and frustration and anger she felt with her parents (and especially her father) throughout her life. In addition to all the personal aspects of this book, the insights from Ward into her own life and the lives of her friends and family, she writes a compelling dual look at types of racism, focusing (though not exclusively, of course, because neither exists in a vacuum) on the more direct and interpersonal for herself (through experiences at school, etc.) and the societal/institutional for her brother and father (and the other men highlighted), and the different ways each affected them. The lines she draws from that to the circumstances of each man's death are clear, uncompromising and, with the "straight up, no flourishes" style of this book, Ward forces you to acknowledge them, face them down, and reckon with them.  

As far as the writing and structure, this was set up in a really unique way. Ward told the story of her family and personal life in a regular "past to present" sort of way. But she wrote the stories of the five men who died in reverse chronology, starting with the most recent and moving backwards to finish with the first, her brother. This reverse parallel meant that the two timelines sort of met in the middle at the end of the book in a sort of crashing crescendo of the most intense emotions, that was deeply effective as a literary device. I found the writing to be a little bit jumpy, compared to the lyrical style of her fiction. It kind of moves from memory to memory in snippets that connect, but tangentially, or don't really connect in any way other than the random mental leaps that we all experience while reminiscing. It was jarring at times, but also, as this was a memoir, did fit stylistically (more or less). I loved the way that Jesmyn showed each of the five men's lives (as well as her own, her mother's her father's) in their full truths, not the perfected remembrances or "what they could have beens" that often come with memorializing someone, but the messy realities of who they actually were. Because that should have been more than enough to deserve a fuller chance to live. The authenticity of the way they were represented in these pages made them feel all the more real to me, which made the reading experience that much more difficult, in a good and necessary way. Related, Ward's speculations of each man’s last moments or other internal thoughts in moments of privacy was really impactful.

There is a pall of foreshadow over the whole book, knowing, as the reader does, what each chapter is leading to, and anticipating it with dread. Contrasted with the vividness of the stories Ward tells about her own and each man's life, the jumpiness of the text settles into the background and the intensity of the words and topics takes center focus. The grief is palpable and, at times, overwhelming, but the questions Ward uses that grief to raise and address are imperative. And her bravery in grappling with these memories and heartache in order to lead us into that interrogation is monumental. 

“Homesickness had troubled me […] I knew there was much to hate about home, the racism and inequality and poverty, which is why I’d left, yet I loved it.”

“What I meant to say was this: You will always love him. He will always love you. Even though he is not here, he was here, and no one can change that. No one can take that away from you. If energy is neither created nor destroyed, and if your brother was here with his, his humor, his kindness, his hopes, doesn’t this mean that what he was still exists somewhere, even if it’s hot here? Doesn’t it? Because in order to get out of bed this morning, that is what I had to believe about my brother […] But I didn’t know how to say that.”

“…did that mean we were living the same story over and over again, down through the generations? That the young and Black has always been dying, until all that was left were children and the few old, as in war?”

“Maybe he looked at those who still lived and those who’d died, and didn’t see much difference between the two; pinioned beneath poverty and history and racism, we were all dying inside. Maybe in his low moments, when he was coming down off the coke, he saw no American dream, no fairy-tale ending, no hope. Maybe in his high moments, he didn’t either.”

“The burden of regret weighs heavily. It is relentless.”

“What I did not understand then was that the same pressures were weighing on us all. My entire community suffered from a lack of trust: we didn’t trust society to provide the basics of good education, safety, access to good jobs, fairness in the justice system. And even as we distrusted the society around us, the culture that cornered us and told us we’re perpetually less, we distrusted each other. We did not trust our fathers to raise us, to provide for us. Because we trusted nothing, we endeavored to protect ourselves, boys becoming misogynistic and violent, girls turning duplicitous, all of us hopeless. Some of us turned sour from the pressure, let it erode our sense of self until we hated what we saw, without and within. And to blunt it all, some of us turned to drugs.”

“We all think we could have done something to save them. Something to pull them from death’s maw, to have said: I love you. You are mine.”

“By the numbers, by all the official records, here at the confluence of history, of racism, of poverty, and economic power, this is what our lives are worth: nothing.”

 

As always, when life gets hectic, I turn to romances for a little quick and easy reading escape. I enjoyed the first in this series, Written in the Stars, when I read it a while ago. Although it wasn't a new fav, I was super into the astrology aspects and I also remember how well Bellefleur wrote the "bubbly, butterflies in my stomach" feelings and I was in the mood for that kind of emotionally uplifting vibe. 

 

We head back to Seattle in this second book for Darcy's younger brother, Brendon's, story. If you will recall, Brendon started the dating app OTP and is a complete romantic. But for all his efforts to help others find their own happily ever afters, and what seems like endless positivity in his own search for "the one," Brendon hasn't found her yet. When Darcy's oldest friend, Annie, comes into town for a surprise visit, Brendon has to step in to play host until Darcy and Elle get back from an out of town trip. Annie is pretty jaded about romance, based on her own sketchy track record there, and has decided not to date for a while. Well, Brendon cannot let that stand. And he takes on the challenge of convincing her that romance is alive and well. Despite Annie's best efforts to the contrary, Brendon seems to be succeeding...and not just in winning their "bet," but in winning Annie's heart altogether. Convenient, since the childhood flame that Brendon carried for Annie seems to be alive and well eight years later. 

 

I sped through this novel in two pretty short sittings. Bellefleur really does have a knack for writing like she's captured the essence of delight and charm in a bottle. This is potentially one of the fluffiest romances I have ever read and I love how it was so unapologetically that. Don't get me wrong, I do also appreciate a romance with a legit conflict or more serious theme, but if/when you want fluff...you'll find it here. While Brendon's extreme romanticism isn't something I'd personally look for in a partner, I loved the way he came across on the page. His enthusiasm was so freaking sweet, all his efforts at big gestures based on rom-coms were super fun to read. I can see how they'd win someone over (even someone more subdued or skeptical, like Annie). Also, and this is where all the fluff was, the way Brendon listened (like, really listened) to what Annie said she wanted and was looking for in romance, and adjusted to meet her needs (while still keeping some of his own flair) was just perfect. On the flip side, Annie came out of her shell/comfort zone a bit to meet Brendon's romantic needs, too. I was so pleased that this difference in their, to keep in theme with the book, love languages, wasn't blown out of proportion to create conflict. Annie and Brendon did a great job communicating (usually the cause of intra-relationship drama in romances) and it was refreshing for that to not be an issue here. 

 

As far as the conflict that was present, I enjoyed how grounded it was. Annie was unhappy with her job/life trajectory, but not sure how to get out of it and find a new path. Re-meeting Brendon and spending time with Darcy, as well as meeting Elle and Margot, was such a  great catalyst for her to see what life could be. However, to break so fully from the plan she had in place, regardless of how "meh" she was about it, really IS a major personal issue. I loved the way Bellefleur recognizes the seriousness of that for Annie (as well as bringing legit awareness on page to how fast the changes and feelings were coming at her) and allowed her the space to work through making such major decisions about her future. It was a great way to introduce conflict in a non-conflict way - it was a roadblock to Annie and Brendon being together, but also not a contrived communication issue or over-dramatic secret/discovery. So, while this relationship may feel a little "vanilla" compared to some other romances, it also felt super genuine and real. And honestly, sometimes that's just what a reader, this reader, needs. 

 

The one small issue I had with this second book was how hard everyone was pushing Annie to change her life plan and move to Seattle. I mean, I understand that she wasn't happy. But like, no one had seen her in at least a year and all of a sudden they knew exactly what was best for her? I don't know, it sometimes felt a little too pushy, and not enough supportive, to me. But to be fair, that was mostly in the group or more light-hearted moments. During the more serious interactions, especially those between Darcy and Annie (and oh I loved their dialogue!), it felt better to me. Otherwise, I loved seeing Darcy and Elle on page again (revisiting old MC coupes is one of my favorite parts of romance series) and watching them take next steps together. The friendship between Brendon and Margot was super fun to get more of (and has me looking forward to the final book when we get Margot's story). It was fun to read the nods to famous rom-coms, especially ones set in Seattle; they were just a really nice touch. I loved that the astrology pieces, while not as prominent as in the first book, of course, were still included (they remain a super fun addition). And the steamy scenes were just that - nice and hot. 

 

This was a great follow-up to Written in the Stars. I was pleasantly delighted throughout reading about Annie and Brendon, got all the warm fuzzies that I was looking for, and was deeply fulfilled and satisfied with the way their story unfolded and ended. I get so attached to characters when they are in series like this, seeing them on page more just makes them feel that much more real, so coming back to the same groups is always a bit like relaxing into a familiar reading embrace. This book had that in spades, plus some incredibly charming and supportive romance with just the right amount of spice. What a joy. 

 

Thanks to Libro.fm for the ALC of this book. It is one that I would definitely not have picked up as fast, if ever, without that push. And while there are quite a few ALCs I've gotten from them that remain unread (I'm just one person and there are so many great books and just too many things other than reading on my to do list - ugh!) this is one that jumped to the top. I could lie and say I don't know why, but I do. The covering is freaking gorgeous, so fun, incredibly eye-catching. And I was in the mood for something a little faster and lighter and the blurbs all made this one sound just as fun as the cover makes you feel. 

 

Ronke is a successful dentist, but wants the family life to match (a husband and kids), but her track record with guys isn't great. And her friends are convinced her current boyfriend is also not the perfect NIgerian man (like her father was) that she's looking for either. Boo has a devoted husband and young daughter, everything Ronke wants, but she's feeling crushed under feelings of stagnation and a loss of sense of self. Simi works in fashion and seems to have the perfect high-style life, but is secretly suffering with imposter syndrome and guilt from having "failed" family expectations. Her relationship with her husband is perfect except for one thing: he thinks they're trying to get pregnant, and Simi is still on the pill. Enter Isobel. She's a childhood friend of Simi's and they just reconnected. Iso is high energy, loaded, and looking for a group of friends to be besties with. However, the more time she spends with the tight-knit group of three, even though it *seems* like she's helping them, each of their lives slowly start to unravel until everyone's secrets are out in the open and things reach an intense and unexpectedly violent climax. Can Ronke, Boo and Simi survive Isobel and all the wahala (trouble) she brings? 

 

Well this was 100% pure entertainment literature right here. So. Much. Drama. And it was all drama that was always there, simmering (nd growing) under the surface, amongst the friends and within their homes and with their partners, that might have one day come out all on its own and caused (at least some) of the same issues. As keeping secrets, and the eventual outing of them, is wont to cause. However, with Isobel thrown in there fanning the flames and encouraging questionable decisions and sowing discord, her position as the catalyst for all these secrets coming out and issues coming to a head was high quality theatrics. I was turning pages as fast as I could, as the interpersonal tension built, trying to figure out how it was all going to play out and what the heck was up with Isobel! I do love reading an unhinged/unreliable female character every now and again, and she was a fantastic one. (Like Lucy in Tangerine, except I enjoyed this novel much more - it had the tension, but was more drama than thriller, which was the lighter vibe I needed.) I also appreciated how May wrote Ronke, Boo and Simi as really well-rounded characters. They had hopes and dreams, but they also had weaknesses and emotions/reactions that they couldn't explain...and all of that felt really perfectly messy and human in a way that was deeply recognizable. Always a sign, for me, of a well-written, fully dimensional character. And while they all, especially Iso, needed less enabling and some real time with a therapist, they all rang true (minus some parts of Iso, haha). 

 

This is looking like it's going to be the shortest review I have written in...maybe years. But I just don't have all that much that I feel needs to be added. I loved the Nigerian cultural and food aspects, especially in the way they were presented from so many different Nigerian perspectives, from being deeply steeped in the culture growing up to those who feel separated from their heritage because they didn't have exposure to it during their formative years. It's a great look at the variety of ways that immigration affects traditions and families. I also was happy with the fact that the drama and secrets of the three friends stayed...realistic, relatable. And while the reason Iso comes (back) into their has a touch of the "suspension of disbelief needed" to it, it also stemmed from decisions and situations made before the three met and while they're facing "consequences" for them, it felt more believable when they were all unaware of/"slow to catch on to" Iso and why she was there and making their lives fall apart. 

 

This had all the vibes of a traditional suburban family drama (though of course it was set in uber-urban London). It had the secrets, the "gasp" moments of reveals, the aspects of tragedy/violence, the families and friendships, and the unputdownable "what is going to happen next?!" tension-building. I was completely diverted by this story, it was so vibrant and melodramatic - such a lively reading experience!  

 

Check out my super fast turnaround on reading The Kingdom of Copper (the second book in the Daevabad trilogy) and this final installation! After it was like two years after reading The City of Brass that I finally continued with the series, I'm really proud of my "only" a couple months between these last two. Go me! Also, it was very convenient timing to jump headfirst into a 28-hour epic fantasy audiobook because we were flying to and from St. Croix for a vacation (which was wonderful!), but the flights were all tough ones for me and I really needed the "close my eyes and escape to another world" that this provided. 

 

This final book in the Daevabad trilogy picks up exactly where the last one left off. Dara is with Manizhah in Daevabad, having taken over the city in a murderous fashion, trying to win the support of the people and build it back to the haven for their people that it used to be. Nahri and Ali find themselves in Cairo, after Nahri's split-second decision about what to do with Suleiman's ring at the end of the last book led to them being surprise-transported away from Davebad. Told in rotating perspectives - Dara, Ali, Nahri - our three MCs face myriad revelations about their ancestry, the truths of the world they find themselves in, and the history that has been hidden. They will all face difficult, impossible, decisions as they work in their own ways to bring their warring peoples together, save their beloved Daevabad from further destruction, atone for their past mistakes, pick up the mantels that they are each uniquely prepared to wear and combine their strengths to fight for a better future...and of course, sort out all their complicated feelings for each other. 

 

I have to be honest and say that I've put off writing this review because I am a little overwhelmed by it. There was so much that happened in this culminating book, with the characters arcs and plot twists and reveals and politics. Plus, the world-building has been wonderfully complex from the start. So, the idea of trying to communicate all my final feelings and reactions (while also trying to keep it spoiler free) is daunting. Let me just start by saying that this final book clears up all the questions that I had been building over the course of the last two. Like, starting as early as the very first chapter (in which we get a solitary look at Manizhah's story and background from her own perspective), pieces start falling into place. And even as some of that context introduces even more questions, (because like I said, so much happens in this final book), I did feel happily satisfied with answers to everything by the end. So, in that respect, it was a great wrap-up. And let me just take a second here to talk about pacing, because this feels like the right spot. If the second book was a slow-roll on pacing with all the action in the final scenes, this book was high end speed all the way through. Yes, there are still the political machinations and interpersonal developments that are a bit "slower," but they are much more interspersed...and even then, those sections felt like they moved faster in this book than before. And I was here for that. I do have to say, though, that I think the second book could have benefitted from telling some of what happened here. I get the re-taking of Davebad by Manizheh happening before Ali and Nahri could leave the city, but, I don't know...after finishing this last book, the overall pacing of the series felt uneven. Plus, this last book was so long. And while I loved every page of it, I think it could have been split better overall. 

 

Speaking to the characters specifically, I continue to love all the complexities of their relationships, taking into account their own personal feelings as well as the realities of their histories and decisions. The Dara-Ali-Nahri triangle is so beautifully and impossibly intricate; that level of depth and detail continues to astound. And throughout the novel, one's heart goes from full to broken and back and forth among them more times than I can count. It's a spectacular emotional roller coaster of love and connection and grief. On an individual level, Dara's story continues to crush hearts, especially as we get more and more details about how badly the Nahid's abuse(d) his faith and trust time and again, especially Manizheh. And though, as we get more about Manizheh's story too, there is deep heartbreak there as well and you can't help but feel sympathy (and maybe sometimes agree with her), it's impossible not to also hate her for all the pain she then caused others in taking things too far. As for Nahri, I was so glad to see how much more in charge of herself and her choices and actions she was, from the start. That was one of my biggest complaints from the last book, is how flat she felt. And I understood all the constraints on her, so I held my overall judgement, and I can now gladly say that I am completely on board with the way her character became the strong, assertive, sneaky in all the good ways, female lead I love reading about in fantasy. And Ali... I was never really "team Ali," I can't lie, but I have to say that his growth in this last book really got me cheering for him. I loved seeing his idealism stay strong, but expand to be more inclusive and understanding as he saw more of the world, learned more about (and to accept) the less perfect parts of himself, and listen more to advice from those around him with different perspectives. So he's still not my fav, but I did come around to him by the end. 

 

I think many of the side characters that had been introduced throughout this series fell a little by the wayside in this final book. They were (almost all) present, and played a role, but they lost some of their nuance and became more pawns of the story as it culminated around Ali, Dara, and Nahri. It wasn't to an extreme that pulled me out of the story, and they all got endings that fit what we know of their characters well, but they seemed a bit flat here in comparison to our main MCs (and Manizheh and, to be fair, Jamshid). Speaking of endings... After all the identity crises and impossible decisions faced by our primary characters, I felt like the justice and redemption arcs they each got were perfect. After the amount of build-up to this ending, it needed to be great. And it was. 

 

I am not actually going to go into too many specifics about the plot, because I'm honestly afraid I will forget what I know from before and what was in this book and I don't want to spoil anything. But I do want to reiterate that it was full of action and reveals and that the way it all wrapped up was exactly what I wanted from this finale. Related, Chakraborty continues to impress with how she pulled together so many characters and storylines and interwoven family and cultural histories in such a cohesive and compelling way. The scope of this series was pretty epic and it felt like she held it in hand the whole time. Topically, she lays out, with such ugly and perfect precision, the way that centuries of slaughter and bad blood, when so much harm has been done, is so hard to overcome (and maybe even forgive?). And that it takes consistent, purposeful and open-minded effort to reckon with that kind of history. It holds clear messages to would-be ally-leaders/peoples of today that the labor required to successfully confront and overcome the cycle of violence and vengeance is a lot; it requires growth (and growing pains) and consideration of alternate perspectives that do not happen overnight. It takes fighting against the dangers inherent in blind faith and following orders without question or critical thought, as well as an openness to accepting the uglier parts of your own past and complicity, and maybe just a little bit of idealism. But...it is necessary for a fresh start, and that kind of fresh start is worth the effort. 

 

Basically, Chakraborty brought this epic story to a close with a bang (and a lot of bloody violence)! I loved, so much, that the characters and their stories and feelings were so nuanced and real that I couldn't decide whose side I was on or who I was cheering for. I vacillated wildly every time new info came to light (which was often) and that made for such an engaging reading experience! Epic fantasy at its finest. At one point, I believe it's Dara who describes his feelings towards Manizheh as “loyalty and dread, love and revulsion,” and I feel like that complicated mix of emotions perfectly describes how most of these characters felt about each other and what was happening around them, as well as how I felt about them all/the plot as the reader, I was completely bought into all of it. 

 

“Not wanting to be destroyed by despair doesn’t make you a coward, Ali. It makes you a survivor.” 

 

"You and I are not the worst of our ancestors. They don't own us. They don't own our heritage." 

 

So, I got this book as an eARC from Netgalley a few months ago. I had a goal, of course, of reading it before publication, but I am just terrible at following through on that. However, I am only a couple weeks late (so that's an improvement!). Plus, I have to say I'm not mad about being able to get my hands on a legit physical copy - I do prefer reading that way to reading on a kindle. And I have a soft spot for a cute small book like this one. 

 

In Brown Girls, Andreades takes us into the lives of brown girls from Queens. From middle school school cliques and make-up trials and parties to post-high school graduation career and education choices. From family expectations and get-togethers that defy assimilation to friends and siblings whose dreams have fallen flat or choices have led them to futures they never planned. From being the ones who "got out" (and the ones who "are too good for us now, huh?) to the ones who never left (by choice or through inertia). From those who studied law and medicine to those who studied arts and performance. From those who visited family homelands to those who never want to. From those who married and had children to those who followed non-traditional family paths. From those who speak up, choosing activism on behalf of their race/womanhood/sexuality to those who stay silent, choosing not to "rock the boat." And all of them the brown girls who fought tooth and nail for visibility and hope and a future and did it all while singing together at the tops of their lungs and meeting up for midnight pizza and donuts because that's what being there for each other means.  

 

This is an electric and completely original debut novel. Based on the description, I was expecting something totally different: a story that follows a few friends through their specific lives and stories. But this book was decidedly not that. The whole novel is told from a first person plural, "we," point of view (something I've read rarely, if ever), and Andreades gives more of a survey of the lives of brown girls, with many examples and representations and inclusions. There is a range of voices (I love, love, love the repeated recitation of names) and reactions that encompass more than an individual but don’t assign traits specifically. There are shared traits and possibilities. There are places where realities diverge. I was really glad for the short chapters. With the "we" and "our" writing style, as well as the overview type perspective, as opposed to following anyone with more individual detail, it could easily have gotten out of control or overwhelming (and made me feel distant from the voices the author was trying to highlight). Instead, it brought a tangible life to the page, laying out the small details that make a daily existence, that make a life, and it feels like you can reach out and touch it, smell it, taste it, hear it. There’s a tenderness in that shortness that is a masterful literary combination. 

 

For such a short overall piece, Andreades was able to address so many larger, complicated, issues. She highlights all the conflicting messages to (brown) girls like “grow up to have babies/families but don’t get pregnant” and “study and get good grades for success but stay close to home and do you think you’re too good for us?” She touches on class, race, gender and sexuality, family, style, names (oh so many names and I loved that). She shows all the messages explicitly or implicitly, from family and strangers, delivered about what is expected of a brown girl. And she takes the “we,” the faceless/lumped together, and gives them individuality in the myriad ways these brown girls internalize and react to their realities. I feel like I want to really point out that last part again, because it was just masterful. Andreadres really addresses the breadth in the definition/idea of brown girls, and shows the diversity that is lost with the lumping together of all non-white faces. And overall, I love the way all these very real issues and truths are presented as simple reality/fact/existence, without direct judgement or commentary from the author (not at all, not towards a single decision or choice). 

 

I sped through this novel in two or three quick sittings, the writing was just that propulsive. Like I said, I've never read anything like it before and I was blown away by the creativity and the strength of the group voice, the many voices. This was so human, so alive, so fierce. Big yes from me.  

 

“We wonder, But did she look like us? Was she as dark as us? But come on- We don't look like anybody in these books. And nobody looks like us.” 

 

“Our English, impeccable. Our mother tongues, if we were taught them at all, become atrophied muscles, half-remembered melodies.” 

 

“Or families’ legacies, the histories we've inherited: grandparents who never learned to read, U.S.-backed dictatorships, bombs, war, refugee camps, naval bases, canals, gold, diamonds, missionaries, brain drain, the American Dream.” 

 

"We are so visible we have become invisible. Odd that in this moment we dreamt of, we are faceless." 

 

“Brown girls brown girls brown girls who, in their bones, are beginning to understand that they are the sum of many identities, many histories, at once. The colonized, the colonizers. Where do we fall? [...] Realize: whether we like it or not, we lay claim to both.” 

 

“Why did we ever believe home could only be one place? When existing in these bodies means holding many worlds within us. At last, we see.” 

 

“Our brown girls. Strong enough for life itself. Or so we hope. We hope, and that is all we can do.” 

 

This was a vacation romance read book choice (the final one I ended up getting to on this particular trip). It has been on my TBR list for awhile and this seemed like the perfect chance to finally pick it up. Also, the colors on the cover feel very tropical, to me, so the vibe just felt right.  

 

Naya, who has spent the last few years focused in exclusive detail on her career, has just found out that her department (education) at the university where she has *almost* made tenure is potentially on the chopping block. In an attempt to help her forget about it for a little bit, her friends challenge her to a different kind of task: getting out into the world and trying some new things. When she meets a nerdy, charming, handsome out-of-town visitor, she realizes he could really help her check a few things off her list (like a no-strings-attached hookup). However, their connection quickly proves to have deeper potential, as Jake helps Naya refind confidence in herself (after it was destroyed by a previous partner in an abusive relationship). When Jake and Naya finally get around to talking about their "real" lives though, Naya finds out that this new relationship could really mess with her career, and she'll have to decide if it's worth fighting for or if she should leave it behind and refocus all her energy back on her professional life. 

 

I'll be honest, this was a much more intense romance than I was necessarily prepared for. I know the blurb mentions a past abusive relationship, but for some reason I assumed this would stay a lighter contemporary and, while that would be mentioned, the focus would be elsewhere. However, Naya's past relationship, both the person himself as well as the un-dealt-with effects on her psyche and comfort level with deep connection, played prominently throughout. While the second piece of that, the long-lasting psychological trauma, is something that really makes sense as a central theme, the first part, where her ex is physically and emotionally still present in parts of her life (against her will and, by the end, violently) was a surprise, and terrifying. I would like to include some very full-throated content warnings for other readers on this topic. By the end, there were a few pages where this book even spilled over into what felt like a thriller, versus a romance, so just heads up. Though, I do have to say that I appreciated the way Williams portrays that kind of toxic past relationship and how it really does affect survivors in so many ways; it's upsetting and tragic, but real in how difficult to move past it and rebuild can be.  Also, if I'm listing things to be aware of here, I do want to add that there is a not-insignificant amount of language about dry spells and revirginizing and friend zone-ing and “late blooming” that just...wasn't my favorite, as far as talking about sexuality in a healthy and inclusive way. Just my two cents. 

 

That being said, the majority of the novel really does revolve around Naya and Jake and their budding relationship in a very sweet way. (It really does. It's just that the parts that didn't were super intense, so they felt bigger. Anyways...)  First, I was living for the dialogue. Maybe it was cheesy at times (as in, there were lots of cheese puns), but I have a partner who loves puns, so my love-hate relationship with them IRL made reading this super fun. Plus, I do love fun and laughter in a relationship and this has it in spades. I was a bit apprehensive at the start about Naya's "getting her confidence back" interactions with Jake, as it seemed to start more as getting it back because another guy told her it was ok, versus on her own terms/for herself. However, I am happy to report that, by the end, she has worked past needing that external validation! Which is great, because I really was into Jake and Naya together, I really bought into them as a couple, and I would have struggled to fully support their happily ever after if they hadn't been able to get there based in truth and trust and healthy partnership of two people strong individually and together. That being said, I happy to read how Naya got to that point as well, taking time off the relationship to figure herself out first (seeing a therapist...I am always on board for good mental health treatment rep in books - see The Charm Offensive as another example of this), before committing to coming back to the relationship in a more open and available state, so she and Jake could move forwards healthily together. It's just more mature, and an important lesson and great visibility. Anyways, I also liked that Jake and Naya developed over time, together and long distance, because while I don't hate instalove stories, this allows for what feels like more genuine growth and creation of a strong base to move forwards from. (That ended up being quite important, because the job entanglement issue is one that needed some mature handling. And speaking of jobs, I thought Naya's mathematical education games for ESL learners was so cool!) And then their story closed with such a perfect adorable ending that fit perfectly with the nerdy-sweet relationship Jake and Naya had cultivated, as well as the maturity that came from their past relationships and lessons learned/growth from those. 

 

While a different overall vibe that I had anticipated from this contemporary romance, I felt like on that whole the issues presented that made it so much heavier were well handled. And while the descriptive language could use some inclusivity work, and the steamy scenes were just fine (nothing fireworks-great but nothing cringy-bad), the interactional/dialogue pieces (amongst all the characters) were phenomenal. And it ended with the warm fuzzies that one wants from a romance. I'll definitely be checking out future releases from Williams. 

 

“Okay, ovary up. Fallopian forward. Vulva with a vengeance.” 

 

“People are imperfect, so relationships will always have flaws.” 

 

Anything advertised as romance in space is likely to get an immediate add onto my "TBR" list. And this spectacular mix of my two favorite escapist genres was the perfect addition to my "vacay reads" packing stack. So, one binge-read experience later (because once I picked this one up, I absolutely was not able to put it back down), here we are. 

 

For years, the Iskat Empire has held power in its region of space through political alliances and treaties. But with an upcoming treaty renewal on the horizon, the time is ripe for anyone chafing under Iskat's rule to bring the unrest, with the planet Thea at the forefront. When the untimely death of Prince Taam leaves his Thean partner, Jainan, a widower (and the planet of Thea without an Iskan representative), a marriage between Jaianan and Iskan Prince Kiem (a bit of a disreputable minor noble) is rushed through in order to keep stability in the region during the tense treaty-signing process. Although they only met each other about ten minutes before their marriage, Jainan and Kiem find themselves in ever more complex situations as evidence comes to light that Taam's death may not have been an accident. Facing bureaucratic red tape, false accusations, secrets coming to the surface, conspiracies, and the potential for an interplanetary war, the two band together to represent their countries competing interests and joint safety, while also coming to terms with their own pasts, inner strengths, and ever deepening real feelings for each other. 

 

Oh my goodness did this book give me life! I'm calling it now: it's going to make my 2022 favorite books of the year list. I read a few reviews before picking it up, which was good, because it tempered (a bit) my expectations regarding the romance - I think the comparison to RWARB had people expecting a bit more heat than is actually in these pages, which could be a letdown, I totally agree. However, while not the same kind of bright burning-young love, high heat romance, it is a spectacular example of what it is: the most excruciatingly perfect, incredibly sweet, mature slow burn romance ever. OMG, my feels. Kiem and Jainan are the perfect opposites: Kiem is all outgoing and talking-too-much and messy and friends with everyone (one of my fav types of characters to read on page - so fun, so much snort laughing), while Jainan is all self-contained and detail oriented and quietly intense. But their personalities and sense of humor and strengths/weaknesses played off each other to perfection in furthering both the plot and their relationship throughout this novel. I loved the way Kiem and Jainan both got each other to realize they were more than they thought they were/could be. And their final interaction at the end...I turned the last page and literally just hugged the book. Swoon. So yea, maybe slightly misadvertised romance-wise, but it sure was everything I wanted it to be. 

 

Alright, other than Kiem and Jainan's romance, there was a lot of other stuff to love about this book too, so let me work on getting all those reactions out as well. Let's talk about the world-building. Primarily, the universal (though different culture to culture, so props for that) gender communication signals/signifiers are fantastic. Love, love, love. Past that, dang but it was detailed and complex for a standalone. In fact, I would maybe caution people who aren't used to intense sci fi/fantasy world-building when starting this, because there are a few gaps one has to fill in for themselves and some feeling lost that happens, and doesn't all get explained away, just due to the fact that there isn't enough time/space for it all. I loved it, honestly, because it made everything feel more legit, to know how much more of the world was behind it (kind of like the iceberg being so much bigger under the surface, as compared to what you can actually see). This is especially true because (and I loved this too), Kiem and Jainan are not chosen ones or “great destinies” but just two people trying to do their best for themselves and their peoples, which means their understanding and exposure to the world (which are the POVs we get it through) is limited by their own place in it. However, there is some "just go with it" that this requires from the reader, and not everyone is comfortable with that. And it means I would totally be here for a follow-up standalone - I definitely want more from this world and these characters! But yea, I loved the "we're just normal people trying to live our lives and we don't really have any power" vibe Kiem and Jainan give off (similar to The Long way to a Small, Angry Planet). It's a character type in sci-fi/fantasy that doesn't always happen and it's one of my favorites. The way they fought for themselves and each other was awesome, and did have some far-reaching consequences, but afterwards they returned to their previous lives, albeit with slightly more self-confidence, love and friendship, grudging respect from the Emperor and the bureaucracy, and slight job-based promotions. "Normal" characters FTW! 

 

Speaking of characters, this book had some great supporting ones. Bel was awesome - I am a sucker for a grey-shaded strong female character. Honestly, I kinda loved the Emperor for similar reasons; she was sarcastic and strong willed AF, with no fucks to give but a clear willingness to take advantage when a convenient option presents itself and she can do it with no political backlash to herself. And Taam...I spent the first half knowing something was super off about him, and then when we realized what it was...UGH the anger (strong CW for an abusive and unhealthy relationship). Which made Kiem's good-natured protectiveness all the sweeter. And I'm personifying General Fenrik, all his supporters, and the bureaucracy into one major "bad guy" that really stands in as a representation of individual political ambition at the expense of less powerful populations. Sadly, always a timely and applicable commentary. And finally, if you like elaborate political intrigue and international governmental drama, with just enough action scenes to keep things moving (think An Empire Called Memory and A Desolation Called Peace), then I can promise you will want to read this. There's also a very similar understated, but clear, romance in each (one that plays a central role and is deliberately paced in perfect time with the plot, but never overtakes the political aspects).   

 

Basically, this was a wholesome (with some steam, for sure) slow burn romance deeply intertwined with a sci-fi political drama of the highest order, and I couldn't stop turning the pages! 

 

So apparently cooking/baking shows are a new trend in romance settings (ok, maybe this one and Rosalie Takes the Cake are just two books, not the start of a new wave of reality food tv romances, but still...) and I'm not not here for it. While I don't really watch a lot of reality food tv IRL, I do love the way the setting allows for close proximity and people who wouldn't normally meet being brought together. Plus, I can't imagine at least some of the contestants on those shows in actual life don't create relationships that last past the filming period, so, even if they're not romantic attachments, it's reasonably believable. Not that that matters, because one doesn't necessarily pick up a romance novel for the reality of it. However, I digress. The point is, if one can call it a trend, I submit that it's a fun one. 

 

Dahlia and London's meet cute on set at the start of a new season of Chef's Special, a reality cooking show, isn't particularly smooth. Dahlia's nervousness comes out as tripping over herself and babbling awkwardly, while London's shows with a wordless grunt in response that definitely comes across as rude. Dahlia's getting over a recent divorce and, having quit her job and looking for a new start on her life, really needs this show to go well (the prize money would be clutch for legit financial reasons). On the other hand, London definitely doesn't need the money, but they'd love to use it to start a nonprofit to support LGBTQ+ youth in their home state of Tennessee. Despite their first interactions going less than smoothly, Dahlia and London keep being pulled back towards each other, and throughout the filming, their relationship starts to develop into something more than just friends. However, they both have some personal baggage, family complications, and growth they need to work through (as well as the fact that London came out as nonbinary nationally while on the show and is dealing with all the feedback from that). The question is, can their new bond survive all that and help them move into the future together? 

 

I sped through this contemporary romance while on vacation (romance is one of my favorites choices for beach/poolside reading), so in that sense, it was exactly what I wanted. And there were really a lot of aspects of this book that I loved. First, and very importantly, I loved the nonbinary rep in these pages - it was so big and proud and messy and unapologetic and wonderful and I was here for all of that. And, interestingly enough on theme with The Charm Offensive, which I also read recently, I am completely on board with all the "queers take over mainstream reality tv" vibes in contemporary romances as well. It's freaking awesome to see (and one can only hope it follows in "real life" reality tv as well). Speaking of which, the entire setting and food show vibe was great - well written and some fun added drama and structure to the rest of the plot and relationship developments. The only other major plot thing I want to point out, because really the pacing and everything were just nice and smooth and I don't have much more to add about that, is that the "fight" moment felt super real, major and minor at the same time. I was happy that it didn't feel contrived or blown out of proportion (they do, at least IMO, pretty often) and also that it was not at all related to the gender/sexuality of Dahlia or London - that's always the easy, surface-level "out" for drama and I'm glad Kelly didn't take it. Related, Dahlia’s "grand" gesture at the end is so sweet and funny and perfect for her and honestly made me laugh out loud - can't help but love that.   

 

For both Dahlia and London, I loved reading about the depth and complexity of their family situations as well. There was some really nicely nuanced (and very relatable) intra-family difficulty for both that was simultaneously tough to read and refreshingly honest. Some of London's family was super supportive of their gender and pronouns and everything, and some (one in particular) were not. It was definitely hard to read about a few times, so be prepared for that, but it didn't ever take over from the rest of the story or London themself - it was just one piece of their story, in a good way. Similarly, the varying reactions of other show contestants and social media were included in the story, because it would be insincere to not address those pieces, but they too never took away from London themself or their internal growth/external relationships in a way that felt too tokenizing. For Dahlia, I personally loved reading about her journey to understanding what she wanted in life and a partner and family (as in, not wanting children) and some of the tension that caused (or she projected that it caused) with her parents. Although the realizations came later in life, and it would have been easier to ignore them and follow convention than buck it at that point, I just loved that she stuck to her truths. It may have been harder to start, but in the long run, everyone will be in a healthier place because of it. Dahlia and her brother were great (note my bias though, as I'm always a sucker for a supportive sibling relationship). And last, it was refreshing to see Dahlia as a “multiple jobs cause idk what I want to do” person on page. I feel like it’s so common (I, too, have a number of jobs, on purpose) but seeing it in writing is still pretty rare. So shoutout to that. 

 

I have to say though, despite all the things I was into while reading this book, my overall expectations weren't quite met. I think, for some reason that I cannot quite put my finger on, the chemistry between Dahlia and London was lacking something, a kind of unevenness in their connection. There were some great steamy scenes, and I usually love a sunshine/grumpy pairing, but it never quite clicked for me here. There was a compelling-ness that I kept hoping/waiting for that Dahlia and London never quite reached. I felt like there was, at times, a disconnect between each character's inner dialogues and outer actions that didn't always match up in a believable way, and that contributed to my reactions. I didn't come away with the depth of emotional response that I usually look for while reading a romance. I wanted so badly to love them, because I loved their situations and stories, but the pairing just never quite hit that spot for me. However, that's such a vague communication of my reaction and reason(s) for it that I don't want it to necessarily talk anyone else out of trying this novel - it had all the right ingredients (see what I did there?) and it could easily just have been a case of wrong time/headspace for this reader. So, if this sounded like a story you'd want to read before this last paragraph, then ignore everything I just said and give it a go for yourself! It's totally worth it (and I'm still super glad for the time I spent with it). 

 

“If there was a society where everyone rejected the binary, where gender norms didn’t exist at all, where bodies were just bodies, everyone real and valid and equally human, and you didn’t have to worry about what people were assuming or not assuming about you.”