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Review – Tash Hearts Tolstoy

Tash Hearts Tolstoy, Contemporary YA by Kathryn Ormsbee

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

My rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Give me more main characters who love a dead Russian author to the degree of counting him as a boyfriend! That was what initially intrigued me (by design, one might safely assume) and it mostly held up. I loved the way it informed Tash’s romantic asexuality. She’s so easy to identify/empathise with, that I still don’t know if that even reflects on me or if she’s just a well-written teen who is basically cool and decent. Flawed, obviously, but that’s part of the point of the story–she grows up and improves as a person by the end.

For the sake of context, I read this book in the long hours of pre labour. Breathing through increasingly painful contractions isn’t exactly a picnic, so I was glad to have this to ameliorate the stress.

Tash is a fairly sheltered young woman who takes a lot for granted. Her friends are always there for her (including her online crush), she knows where she’s going to school after graduation and what she’ll be studying, and her family is a strong support system. She and one of her best friends produce a Youtube serial adaptation of Anna Karenina called Unhappy Families, which gains an insane boost in popularity when an established Youtuber gives them some positive press.

Her negative reactions to sudden fame are a bit predictable, but they’re also understandable and realistic. I struggled a bit as her bad behaviour clashed with her perception of herself. For someone who professed to be so close to her friends and grateful for the closeness of her relationship with both friends and family, Tash does an awful lot of lying by omission, and generally withholds information to her detriment. While this is certainly part of her character arc and addressed in the text, I couldn’t help thinking that she must have been a pretty shitty friend for a long time if she was so unaware of how to communicate.

Also, for clearly personal reasons, I wasn’t terribly thrilled with her treatment of her mother after the announcement of an unexpected pregnancy. Despite repeated mentions that the pregnancy was unplanned, Tash and her sister both questioned their mother’s reasons for having a baby. How does one have reasons for something completely unplanned? Is this an implication that they think she’s making a choice by not having an abortion? She also gets maligned for “keeping it secret” which is stupid, because especially with a pregnancy at that age, one does not announce it until about the second trimester because of the chance of miscarriage in the first. I get that Tash felt displaced, but I didn’t sympathise.

Although I have to admit that I don’t think I would like Tash’s web series if it were a real thing, the portrayal of the work involved in the production, especially the rough bits like stuff that can ruin a day’s shooting, was wonderful. The young actors run the gamut from Casual and always late to Overly “Professional” and insufferable but suffered because of Talent. The latter character actually surprised me in the end, which was awesome.

There’s some great representation for marginalised teens in this book. Not only is Tash herself asexual, but one of the actors in Unhappy Families is gay, and another is bisexual. It’s all very easygoing and natural, without too much underlining.

Although she is the main character, Tash still manages to take up more narrative real estate than necessary, which has the effect of leaving all of the other characters feeling underdeveloped and some go sidelined overlong because Tash is too wrapped up in herself. It’s brilliantly meta, as it ties directly in to her character arc.

The romance is about as predictable as the Youtube Stardom main plot, but once again, it’s done well enough that I wouldn’t really count that as a mark against the book. Tash’s relationship with her online crush develops slowly, and she gets to enjoy it as one of the things going well for her, but it’s also a major point of stress thanks to her not being out and not having a clue how to come out to basically anyone.

This is a great read overall, but particularly effective if you’re looking for something satisfying and not too twisty or demanding.

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Review – The Love Interest

The Love Interest, YA Gay Romance by Cale Dietrich

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My rating: ⭐️⭐️

My hopes were so high for this one, and for at least the first third, I managed to ride on those hopes without their being dashed. The writing style is punchy and funny. Even in first person present tense, the general hatred of which I am still getting over. (it’s a process.)

The opening world-building is a hopscotch court of meta jokes for YA readers. Love Interests are cultivated in a compound where they must hone their bodies to physical perfection, gaze at themselves in the mirror daily, learn pop culture so they can fit in, and fall into two factions categories: Nice and Bad. No names–they go by numbers until they are given a name and additional Pretties-esque makeover when they are assigned to make a person fall in love with them. Two Love Interests compete in a love triangle, and the one who is not chosen is doomed to die. But what happens when the Love Interests fall for each other?

Even in the beginning, I had a lot of minor nitpicks that I had to shelve in order to keep enjoying myself. While I liked the concept of the world-building, I never felt like it was very solid and it was certainly not without irritating holes. Why do they have to have plastic surgery when so much focus is placed on the strain of conventional beauty attained through grueling effort? Why are they stolen children? It didn’t bother me that this is what they were, but there wasn’t really any narrative reason. Why that source for the LIs? Why not test tube babies? Or sentient organic robots? Is this a dystopia or the regular world and the joke is that YA love interests in even straight-up contemporary YA are like this? The given reason for the entire Love Interest Compound is that they are matched to people who become influential/important and will presumably have privileged information with monetary value. This isn’t technically a bad reason, but it’s sort of dumped out there once and referenced after, but never actually explored. Which… describes much of the book.

One of the major indicators that someone was a Bad was that he had a bulkier musculature than a Nice, which didn’t work for me, since in my reading experience, YA Bad Boys are usually skinny angst pots. Exercise is wholesome, as is sunshine, and bad supposedly cool habits tend to be unhealthy things like smoking, so I expect the muscular guy to be Good/Nice. Mileage may vary, I guess, however like so much else that doesn’t work terribly well in this book, it’s evidence of shallow shallowy-ness.

The main character, given the name Caden, is shallow. He thinks that he doesn’t quite fit the label of Nice, but he falls into it anyway because someone else is making that distinction and probably to make some kind of Divergent reference. His perception that he’s too Bad to be Nice doesn’t really go anywhere. Shallow character arc. Dylan is barely a character–he mirrors the Am I Really Bad/Nice? thing but does it better than Caden. Any potential he has as a character is lost in not having a written perspective. The narrative, technical reason he doesn’t have one is so that there can be a big misunderstanding in the latter part of the book to keep him and Caden from getting together. It isn’t even a believable misunderstanding. In fact, given the concept, Caden, Dylan, and the girl should have had their own POVs. Caden is about as exciting as tapioca pudding and can’t carry a book on his own.

The romance is insultingly shallow. In fact, all of the queer content was.  Caden goes through a questioning phase to realisation in such a rote manner that I not only could sing along in a mocking voice, but at one point, I managed to quote something nearly verbatim before the book got to it. His “OMG am I gay?” passage comes off as dated and insincere. It honestly sounds like it was written by someone else, it looks so out of place.

But the romance just made me sad. Why is it that so many books that hinge on an unexpected homosexual attraction fail to depict that attraction as anything other than author mandate? Sure, I could see why someone would find Dylan appealing–he’s good-looking and displays a lot of charming traits. But somehow it felt like the book just skipped over the parts where Caden showed why he in particular fell for Dylan. I was more invested in the romance between Ewan and Archie in A Hero at the End of the World. And I cannot for the life of me tell what anyone might see attractive about Ewan.

When I realised that the romance was never going to feel satisfying, the rest of it sort of deflated. It just isn’t a strong enough narrative. Side characters are nauseatingly, unrealistically nice. A lot of the plot falls flat as boring string holding together set pieces of cool moments. By the end, I was just bored. The concept I had been so excited to read about felt wasted. I hope that this isn’t the last time someone tackles a premise like this. I love meta humour and unexpected couples. I don’t think I killed this for myself with high expectations, though, as I really liked it up to a point. It simply wore me down with unsteady world-building and weak romance.

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Review – An Unseen Attraction

An Unseen Attraction, Gay Historical Romance by KJ Charles (also counts as Mystery)

Series: Sins of the Cities #1

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

My rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I don’t quite have auto-buys when it comes to authors because I tend to take forever to buy books that I desperately want. It drives Hubby crazy. But whatever my own weird equivalent of an auto-buy is, KJ Charles is one of them. Not only does she write gay historical romance as though it is not a gimmick or in a novelty in comparison to heterosexual historical romance, she’s also an excellent storyteller and damn classy.

Clem Talleyfer is an Indian-Englishman who doesn’t quite belong anywhere. He doesn’t speak Hindi and he was otherwise denied that half of his heritage, so he has trouble fitting in on that side, and being dark-skinned and illegitimate are enough to keep him from being considered truly English. He’s also clearly on the autism spectrum, which comes with its own social difficulties. I adored Clem. He’s sweet and self-aware, compassionate nearly to a fault, and loyal. His support network was also lovely.

Clem runs a boardinghouse. One of his tenants is Rowley Green, an intense, bespectacled taxidermist who sees his profession as artistic. The two begin with a quiet friendship of sharing tea and conversation in the evenings. They’re each crushing on the other, but neither is quite ready to risk making a move.

Then one of the other tenants, a massively unpleasant drunkard, turns up on the front steps dead and showing signs of torture.

It’s difficult to articulate what I liked so much about this particular book. There are tonnes of things that I wouldn’t have thought of beforehand that I apparently needed in my life. Polish Mark the PI, Rowley’s artistic musings on the art of stuffing animals, trips to see occasionally cross-dressing acrobats. The romance is a slow burn, which I mightn’t have expected to like, but did. The mystery is amazing, so the less said about it the better: Go Read This is all I have to say on that score.

In fact, just Go Read This.