All About Love: New Visions by Bell Hooks

This is my first non-fiction review in over a decade. I don’t usually like to consume reality in large, novel-sized chunks. Articles and the occasional academic papers (thanks to my MBA) are more than enough for me. 

As I read All About Love by Bell Hooks, I worried that I wouldn’t have much to say. This is a New York Times Bestseller and I’m no expert on love. I’d surely consume everything Bell Hooks had to teach and, hopefully, walk away a bit more emotionally intelligent. No review needed.

While that is mostly true, I’m writing the first part of this review with five chapters left to go. Don’t worry, I’ll finish reading and injecting my thoughts here before this is posted (of course). However, I just read the chapter on community: Community: Loving Community and I have some critical thoughts. 

Is your heart squeezing at that too? I’m stressed. Is it legal to disagree with Bell Hooks? The intelligent, profound Bell Hooks? 

Well, that’s what I’m here to do apparently. While most of the book up to this point has had me sighing and gasping in understanding, this chapter was a miss for me specifically. 

Well, not the whole chapter– the beginning was illuminating. Hooks put words to general truths I’d learned early on in life: how the patriarchal nuclear family is an inefficient and harmful product of capitalism and patriarchal structures. She explained the damaging system where this nuclear family is meant to be led by one man, who is generally emotionally chaotic and neglectful. Yeah, I’ve seen that many times over. It was validating to see it in plain text and to now have a vocabulary around the subject. 

Things went sideways in the community chapter when she began writing about forgiveness. 

I can hear my sister laughing from here. She just sent me a video of a man explaining that Virgos are vengeful.

There were a couple moments throughout this novel where I had to pause and tell myself that Hooks is clearly from another generation. The latter half of this chapter exemplified that. 

It started strong when Hooks noted that, “Many of us learn as children that friendship should never be seen as just as important as family ties. However, friendship is the place in which a great majority of us have our first glimpse of redemptive love and caring community.” (p. 134) While this isn’t true for me–a person blessed to be born into a large, connected family where my cousins were my first friends–I  see the value in the message. 

She lost me later when she spoke about a friend who suddenly and inexplicably betrayed her by publicly writing negative critiques of her work, which Hooks described as vicious attacks. With no mention of communication regarding these attacks, Hooks says that forgiveness allowed her to understand why the “friend” might have acted this way. She then forgave her and noted that she would keep “a place in my heart should she [the friend] wish to claim it.” (p. 140)

I underlined that line in the book and wrote “I disagree!” because what do you mean? Why should anyone manufacture forgiveness for an illogically hateful person?

I had a friend like that: illogically hateful. Somehow her betrayals always surprised me because she coated them in over-exaggerated compliments, kind gestures, and feigned ignorance. After a decade of witnessing and sometimes enduring this, I cut her off. More importantly, I no longer hold space in my heart for someone who proved they are undeserving of my love. 

There was another part of this chapter that struck me even more deeply. I’ll be brave and try not to cry and I type this in a crowded cafe. 

On the very last page of the chapter, she brings up the topic of estrangement and how she encourages people to repair relationships with estranged family members. Why? She didn’t give a good reason. Well, she did say that maybe there would be positive changes eventually. 

She talked about her sister who is a lesbian and dealt with homophobic family. Hooks explained that she was outraged for her sister but also encouraged her to not distance herself from family. This disgusted me as someone who came out as queer, dealt with negative responses from my parents, and decided to protect myself from their dysfunctional love by exiting their orbit.

According to Bell Hooks, I am supposed to endure fractured and conditional love and be shamed for who I’ve been since birth. For what? To commune with people who hate me at my core.

I had whiplash as I read these last few sentences in the chapter. A few pages earlier, Hooks was saying that friendships are sometimes our first and most profound loves before family connections. But now, family was so important that emotional abuse was necessary. Nah, I don’t like that.

I also felt for her lesbian sister. 

When I came out, my sister shielded me. She protected me from my parents’ abuse and tried to meet them within the small limits of their conservative brains. She shared Catholic resources to help them understand their queer child. She made it clear that it was their responsibility to heal the relationship in this parent-child dynamic. And, since they refused, she has done everything to build community with me and keep their harm away. 

Hooks could have said something profound about chosen family here; building community that is respectful and genuine. Instead, she perpetuated the harmful idea that one must abandon their own safety for the sake of blood ties. 

Phew. Now that that’s over, let’s talk about the things I loved. 

I’ve never tried to define love. Before reading this book, I would’ve said that there are many types of love–each requiring a different definition. After reading All About Love, I understand that only one definition is needed. As Hooks writes:

“When we are loving we openly and honestly express care, affection, responsibility, respect, commitment, and trust.” (p. 14)

Directly after, Hooks explains, “Definitions are vital starting points for the imagination.” That line made me salivate. Definitions are generally understood to be confining, but Hooks describes them as a starting point. I love that. 

I have a confession to make. This is the second time I’ve tried to read this book. The first time was with an ex-partner who wasn’t a big reader. I got to the second chapter about Childhood Lessons, got triggered, and put it down. Both of our copies gathered dust. Now, reading the book in full, I wonder if it would’ve changed the outcome of that relationship. Not for the reasons that you may think. Sure, Hooks talks about romantic love but this book is about so much more. I can already feel my understanding and philosophy of love changing. Would that have helped me in the relationship?

Or would I have left sooner upon reading the lines: 

“All too often women believe it is a sign of commitment, an expression of love, to endure unkindness or cruelty, to forgive and forget. In actuality, when we love rightly we know that the healthy, loving response to cruelty and abuse is putting ourselves out of harm’s way.” (p. 137)

I’m laughing (bitterly) because Hooks wrote this profound line, then encouraged enduring cruelty and abuse from family members a few pages later. Sorry, sorry, I’ll let it go. 

Back to the review, All About Love is….well, all about love. Love in the context of self-care, love in the context of friendship, love in the context of community, love in the context of nuclear and extended family, love in the context of romance. When I picked up the book, I thought it would be mostly about the latter.  I mostly associated love with romance and have always been a fan of romance. Now I know that my lifelong desire for romance is partly due to my socialization–Disney movies and the quiet training to be a caretaker as a young girl into womanhood. Hooks talks about how men are socialized, too. How they are taught to pursue power, avoid vulnerability of emotion, and seek connection through sex. 

Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. 

I appreciated the deeper understanding. However–while I was able to track many similarities between these hetero-cis men and the queer masculine partners I’ve had in the past–I often felt like a lot of this book wasn’t very relevant to me. At least, not right now. I understand the need for the conversation, but assessments of men vs. women, masculine vs. feminine, blah vs. blah become a boring binary discussion. As a queer, I’m inclined to prefer discussions that extend beyond those confines.

Hooks really got into romantic love in chapter ten, aptly titled: Romance: Sweet Love. I started this chapter with a little bit of a thrill. Not to downplay the valuable lessons in other chapters, but I was excited to finally get what my love-bruised heart had initially set out to explore. I marked up just about every page of this chapter as sweet reflections, thoughtful musings, wonton longing, and vengeful validation floated into my mind. 

Throughout the novel, Hooks quotes many different authors–from the Bible to Martin Luther King Jr to Marianne Williamson (yikes). I enjoyed the quotes in the romance chapter the most. 

Harriet Lerner wrote in Life Preservers that people want a partner who is, “mature and intelligent, loyal and trustworthy, loving and attentive, sensitive and open, kind and nurturant, competent and responsible.” 

I immediately lamented that none of my romantic interests have ticked all those boxes. Then Bell Hooks challenged me to ask if I met that standard. Umm. Yes?

A few pages later Hooks talks about how we see false versions of our love interests because we are blinded by the initial connection. She quotes Thomas Moore who in Soul Mates writes, “The soul thrives in ephemeral fantasies.” 

I choked on that line, beautifully written and boldly disrobing. As someone who has often gleefully called myself delusional, I felt sufficiently called out. 

The final nail in my romance coffin came as Hooks explained the difference between romance and true love. As she details in every other chapter, love is about work. And so is true romantic love. 

I’ve always maintained this, despite my many fantasies about “happily ever after love.” True love takes as much dedication, transformation, and evolution as life demands. If we are healthy, we are always evolving until the day we die, so our relationships–platonic and romantic– must also evolve. It was pleasurable to find that same understanding in this novel. Hooks writes: 

“…when we commit to true love, we are committed to being changed, to being acted upon by the beloved in a way that enables us to be more fully self-actualized.” (p. 185)

And that was it for me. Put the hammer down and float me down the river because I was sanctified in that very moment. Recant all my criticisms of Hooks’ work because I got the validation and understanding that I needed. I ticked all the boxes:

  • I meet the criteria of healthy love.
  • My relationships failed in the past because my soul was lost in ephemeral fantasies.
  • I’ve given partners true love but have only received romance in return because they refused to mutually engage in “constructive struggle and change.” 

Amen, amen I say to you. I was never the problem! That was a joke… not really. Bell Hooks is probably rolling her eyes from the other side. I’ll wrap up this review before it becomes even more of a journal entry or personal essay. 

The last chapters were on Loss, Healing, and Destiny. 

I appreciated Hooks’ focus on death in the chapter about loss. She explains it as something that we oddly obsess over in our culture in a negative way, focusing on violence and the fear of death. She explains, 

“Death is among us. To see it always and only as a negative subject is to lose sight of its power to enhance every moment.” (p. 200)

Very true, very profound.

The chapter on healing aligned with my own long held belief: “To choose growth is to embrace a love that heals.” (p. 210)

For reasons incredibly personal to me (and downright absurd) the last chapter on destiny felt like a wicked joke after reading this entire book. Reading the biblical story about Jacob’s arduous journey back to his soulmate through trials of isolation, growth, and maturity was laughably disorienting for me. A true test from the universe. Still, I gleaned one final message on the value of releasing shame and embracing love courageously. 

As you may recall, this was my non-fiction April pick for the Falling Back in Love With Love theme. So, do I love love more after reading my fiction and non-fiction picks? I think so. I saw the excitement and undeniability of love in Love & Other Disasters by Anita Kelly. However, All About Love by Bell Hooks taught me more about what love truly is, the value it holds, and the work it takes to cultivate real love. Love isn’t intangible or mysterious, it’s an intentional commitment that isn’t limited to romance. 

Ultimately I’m glad I finally got around to reading All About Love. At the same time, the few problematic messages will keep me from enthusiastically recommending it to others. I will still keep a copy on my bookshelf and revisit a few key sections often. 

Three stars. 

UP NEXT: 

After reading about love, reflecting, writing, and talking about past relationships I’m ready to move the hell on. Let’s talk about something else, shall we? 

Here are our May picks: 

Fiction: Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen 

Non-Fiction: Imperial Intimacies: A Tale of Two Islands by Hazel Carby

May’s theme is Power, Property & Patriarchy in British Society, where we’ll explore how gender, race, and wealth influence women’s roles and agency—while also confronting how the fortunes of Britain’s wealthy, as seen in Pride & Prejudice, were built on the exploitation of Black enslaved labor, as discussed in Imperial Intimacies.

LOVE & OTHER DISASTERS BY ANITA KELLY

I really shot myself in the foot with this one.

If you caught my “update” post about my goal to read one fiction and one non-fiction book based on a chosen theme each month, you’ll know that April’s theme was: Falling Back in Love With Love.

That’s juicy, right?

Do you want to know why I–a gleefully delusional lover-girl–fell out of love with love? What romantic terrors shook me up so badly that the thought of love nauseated me? If anyone deserves the details, it’s my 31 loyal monthly blog visitors. Instead of a novel-length drama, here’s an excerpt from something I wrote:

I fought for love. But effort and commitment and care can’t be one-sided. It wore on me and it wore on my belief in and want of love. That realization was harsher than losing the relationship. After I walked away, I realized that I’d become a bit cynical. Not only because what I thought was love had been…something else. But because I looked around for examples of love–couples I aspired to be like–and struggled to find many aspirations.

You understand? You understand why I went into ChatGPT and said, give me romance; give me a love story; give me a happy ending! Well, it gave me The Wedding Date by Jasmine Guillory. Surely a sweet romance…but it was a hetero romance.

No thanks. My faith in love needed to be repaired in the same way it was broken. Queerly.

Back to ChatGPT: Give me something queer; give me a masc and a femme; throw in someone non-binary! They just have to fall in love and stay in love!

Enter: Love & Other Disasters by Anita Kelly.

The title didn’t sound too promising. I wanted something sweet and uncomplicated, not disastrous. But the other options didn’t sound very enticing, which is another conversation. Should I write a queer romance? Don’t answer that. I’m doing it anyway.

Regardless, I loved all of the little disasters in this novel. I expected what I asked for: a lighthearted, easy to read little novel that would rehydrate my shrunken heart. Instead, I got a well-written romance that hooked me halfway through.

So, what’s it about? Glad you asked. Love & Other Disasters is written in third person and shifts between the perspectives of Dahlia, a late twenties woman who just got divorced from her high school sweetheart (a nice man named David) and signed up as a competitor on a cooking show while she struggles to figure out what’s next for her, and London, a non-binary person who really loves Nashville, has money, but also wants the cooking show prize money to open up a non-profit for the LGBTQIA+ community.

Writing out that London has money but is competing for money just annoyed me. It annoyed Dahlia too at one point, if I recall correctly. Anyway, the two have a cold first meeting…and eventually things heat up.

I know that’s vague. How am I even supposed to write reviews? I’m out of practice and allergic to spoilers. Read the book.

I do want to talk about two things…the writing and the queerness. Let’s start with the latter.

Quick, think of every queer trope you can. What do queer stories always center around? Self-discovery, fear of ostracization, coming out, violence, hate crimes, and death. Those are real issues for our community, and I don’t want to downplay them, but I do want to see more queer joy. I want to see queer people catering to their passions like cooking, writing, music, or building a non-profit. And I love that Anita Kelly was able to keep the characters and their passions central to the story rather than focusing solely on queer struggle. Because, yes, there were rough family dynamics and, yes, someone does come out, but it’s a minor blip. And, as a queer person who is constantly coming out to new and old people in my life, I’m exhausted. For me, it is a blip, because I have things to do and passions to focus on. My queerness is simultaneously one of the best things about me…and as irrelevant as my brown hair.

Now for the writing.

I like Anita Kelly’s writing. Did I underline incredibly well-written lines and draw hearts all over the pages? No. I don’t think I was supposed to. The writing was easy to read, but not in an elementary way. We’ve all read those books, right? Where the writing is a bit too simple and you trod through just to get the story out. Kelly’s writing is a few steps above that, so much so that I’m planning to see what else they’ve written. I’m a fan.

Speaking of being a fan. I didn’t expect to like this book as much as I do. The morning after I finished it, I woke up thinking, “Oh, I can’t wait to read more of that story.” Only to sadly remember that I’d finished it. But I hadn’t been a fan from the start. It wasn’t boring or anything, it was engaging enough. I appreciated that the author didn’t go too far into the technical cooking details or fall into the trap of food metaphors. I’m sure that was hard to avoid.

But you know when it got good? You know when I got hooked? When I realized, to my shock, that this was a steamy book. How did I not know? Why did I think that the author was going to fade away from steamy scenes? And, yeah, you could call me a grubby pervert for being hooked at that moment. However, I will argue that those scenes were so important. Not just for the character development or plot progression, but for the culture. They were honest, playful, and sweet. Respectful and realistic as they navigated intimate moments for the first time, feeling out each other’s boundaries, especially as one character was non-binary. I found it cute; I found it relatable.

And, speaking of relatable, I loved how shoulder-shrug queer Dahlia’s character is. No figuring out if she’s attracted to London. No agonizing over her identity. Just – Oh yeah, you didn’t know I was queer? I am. Let’s do this.

I know there’s a time and a place for the queer crisis, the self-discovery side of things. Maybe I’m burnt out on those stories because I sought them out incessantly when I was in that phase of life. But as a 33-year-old seasoned queer just wanting to love love again, Love & Other Disasters was just what the AI doctor ordered.

So this month’s fiction goal was met. I read the book, felt my heart grow a half-size, and was inspired to write. I didn’t write fiction though. I was a bit mesmerized by the newness of Dahlia and London’s relationship, the queer romance.

It tossed me back into reverie.

Soon, I found myself writing an essay about my most recent single summer, a “hot girl summer” if you will, in 2022, which happened to coincide with the beginning of a relationship. It’s not a sappy sweet story, but has a few little disasters, just like this book. I think that’s the clearest indicator that Anita Kelly delivered something special with this novel.

At the same time–like I said at the start–in trying to revive my heart I was transported back in time… and promptly shot myself in the foot.

four stars.

Update | 2025 Reading Series

Welcome to another one of my schemes to read more! I’ll make this little update quick because I’ve got books to read and reviews to post. I’m also still a very busy MBA student living in the United Kingdom now…did I mention that here? Oops.

At the start of 2025, I set an easy reading goal for the year: 12 books. One book a month. Easy, right? 

Anyway, after not reading a single book from January to March, I realized that I needed to buckle down (and make up for lost time). So I decided that I’d read two books every month.

As a writer, reading fiction always inspires me to write — that’s the whole reason why I started this blog. I was the writer who didn’t read enough and my writing suffered because of it. While fiction inspires me to put pen to paper—or fingers to keyboard—non-fiction informs and enhances my creativity. The more I know, the more I can pull into my stories. That’s where my big idea came in.

I picked a few themes / topics / subjects that interest me, one for each remaining month of the year, and matched a fiction and non-fiction title to each category.

Starting in April, I’m kicking things off with the goal of Falling Back in Love With Love with my fiction pick being Love & Other Disasters by Anita Kelly, and a non-fiction staple All About Love by Bell Hooks.

This is posting May, so expect reviews for both books soon!

x

Kait

EPISODE 21: SALON SERIES – Spiritualism Part II

In Part II of our Salon Series: Spiritualism series, we formally enter our salon and hear a few works from our authors. Emma Hardinge Britten gives us some useful seance instruction, Rebecca Cox Jackson shares a real life account of her travels, and Ella Wheeler Wilcox delves deep into her spiritual poetry.

Listen on ITunes, Spotify, Stitcher, Castbox, or on the blog. Comments and ratings are appreciated on all platforms!

Resources:

Rules to be Observed When Forming Spiritual Circles by Emma Hardinge Britten

Viels by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Gifts of Power by Rebecca Cox Jackson

Socialize With Us:
Instagram @writerwhoreads

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Subscribe: RSS

EPISODE 20: SALON SERIES – Spiritualism Part I

In this inaugural episode of the Salon Series, we’re learning about the Spiritualism movement of the late 19th / early 20th centuries and introduce our Salon attendees Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Emma Hardinge Britten, and Rebecca Cox Jackson.

Listen on ITunes, Spotify, Stitcher, Castbox, or on the blog. Comments and ratings are appreciated on all platforms!

Resources:

Essay Review: Science, Religion, and the Spiritual World: The other World: Spiritualism and Psychical Research in England, 1850–1914 (link)
The Rise of Spiritualism During the First World War: Raymond, Or Life and Death (link)
The Fox Sisters and the Rap on Spiritualism (link)
Brittanica Spiritualism (link)
The Banner of Light, The Boston Investigator, The New-York Times, The Brooklyn Eagle (link)
The Unseen Worlds of Emma Hardinge Britten: Some Chapters in the History of Western Occultism: The Unseen Worlds of Emma Hardinge Britten (link)
Poetry Foundation Ella Wheeler Wilcox (link)
Wisconsin Electric Reader – Ella Wheeler Wilcox (link)
Wisconsin Lit Map (link)
QSpirit: The Two Rebeccas (link)
Holy Spirits: The Power and Legacy of America’s Female Spiritualists (link)
Gifts of Power: Writings of Rebecca Cox Jackson (link)
How the Nineteenth-Century Spiritualist Movement Gave Voice to American Women (link)
Spiritual Paths Spiritualist Church: Emma Hardinge Britten & The Seven Principles (link)
Rules to Be Observed When Forming Spiritual Circles by Emma Hadinge and Others (link)
Ectoplasm (Paranormal) (link)
The Color of Angels: Spiritualism in American Literary Culture (link)
PBS: Rebecca Cox jackson (link)
Review: Rebecca Cox Jackson and the Uses of Power (link)
PBS: About the Shakers (link)

Socialize With Us:
Instagram @writerwhoreads

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Subscribe: RSS

PODCAST UPDATE: NEW EPISODES INCOMING

This post is for our dear TWWR Podcast Listeners – aka the most patient audience in the world. I know it has been an age since our last episode was published but it’s for good reason, I promise!

Trapper has been living his best life in Louisiana and I’ve recently relocated to England. Wild times, I know. So I figured, what better time to relaunch the podcast? While I have dreams of one day resurrecting the format Trapper and I created, this time around I’ll be shaking things up as I take on solo podcasting for the first time ever.

Listen to the podcast update for more details (and some mild rambling). Also, get ready for a spooky episode coming out on Halloween!

More coming soon.

x

Kait

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Subscribe: RSS

JUST AS YOU ARE BY CAMILLE KELLOGG

Just As You Are by Camille Kellogg was described to me as “A queer Pride and Prejudice inspired enemies-to-lovers, featuring a queer magazine and it’s brooding, new investor.“

Well, let me tell you, my experience with this book could be described as enemies-to-lovers as well. Actually, welcome to the first enemies-to-lovers book review on thewriterwhoreads.com.

Let’s go back to the beginning, shall we?

September 4, 2023. Lucky for me, my birthday landed on labor day and I packed the day with all my favorite things: Thai food, leisurely strolls through boutique knickknack stores, expensive lattes, and a bookstore or two.

When we happened upon The Ripped Bodice, I practically ran in. The Ripped Bodice is an independent, woman and queer owned bookstore dedicated to romance novels. It’s pink. I walked in like I was home. It was crowded as hell; full of women and few uncomfortable looking straight boyfriends. Right as I felt a bit overwhelmed, my partner popped out of nowhere with a wrapped book.

I had always wanted to buy one of those “blind date with a book” things and leapt at this one. Pride and Prejudice, you say? Queer? Sold.

In classic Writer Who Reads fashion, I didn’t unwrap this book for a good month.

Then, when I finally unwrapped the book and read the first chapter, I threw it in a dusty corner never to be seen again. The first few chapters of this book really annoyed me. It was like someone handed a straight writer a list of stereotypical lesbian things and said, “don’t leave a single detail out.“

Maybe I felt personally attacked because I, too, am a queer in Brooklyn but do not own Doc Martens, have some type of shaved head, or own any suggestive gay t-shirts.

And, while I enjoyed the play on words with the Nether Fields magazine, every element of that office being named after some queer icon was annoying. It took me out of the story every time the “Kioyoko Kitchen (named after Hayley Kiyoko of course)” was mentioned.

Despite sounding like the hater that I am, I can see how this may delight other readers, which has forced me to self reflect. Why was this so irritating to me? Shouldn’t our queer culture – dress and references and language – be celebrated at every turn?

Yes, of course.

Sometimes, however, I find that the culture can hinder genuine self expression. We can’t all love Doc Martens and rainbows, and that’s okay.

Okay, here ends the enemies portion of this review. Let’s fall in love.

I’m moving soon and need to decide which books in my library will move with me. I also accepted that I have a mild (read: aggressive) social media addiction and quit cold turkey. I picked up Just As You Are again to kill two birds with one stone.

Without the cooking videos and wedding content of Instagram to distract me, I trudged through the first 100 pages of the book. I began to enjoy meeting the characters and making the connections to Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.

Liz was Elizabeth Bennet

Daria was Fitzwilliam Darcy

Bailey was Charles Bingley

Jane was Jane Bennet

Then the story sucked me in a bit. Then a bit more. Then more.

By page 200, I was invested.

Our main characters hated each other so much, I read on to see if the author could convincingly make them fall in love. There was tension, there was drama, there was pining and secret sexual attraction.

Lust, betrayal, misunderstandings!

These were elements of the classic Pride and Prejudice that we all loved, except there was texting, instagram, and queers! How fun.

I especially loved the diversity of the characters, from race to gender. We get to see Liz work through her own fluctuating gender expression, struggling to find her own personal combination of masculine and feminine.

One of my favorite characters was Jane, of course. I always liked Jane in Pride and Prejudice. This modern Jane was very similarly quiet and reserved, but also a Black trans woman who was damn good at her job. I loved her.

By the end of the book, I couldn’t care less about our rough start. I read the last chapter in bed at 7:00am if that proves how invested I became.

Considering how overwhelmingly white the regency era inspiration for Just As You Are was, this novel could have gotten away with being a cis, white, lesbian book claiming to be groundbreaking. I appreciate Kellogg’s inclusion, believable plot, and complex characters.

Three and half stars.

P.S. I’m logging into Instagram to share this review. Come pull me out if I get sucked in.

THE SEVEN HUSBANDS OF EVELYN HUGO BY TAYLOR JENKINS REID

I read this book begrudgingly. Actually, I listened to this book. Begrudgingly because Bookstagram took me by the collar and beat it across my face for a consistent year.

I gotta see what Evelyn Hugo is about, I’d think against my own will.

Then one day I found myself reading reviews of the book online. Amid tons of 5-star spoiler-free reviews, one salty loser lady wrote a 2-star review with some vague homophobia. It surprised me. It thrilled me!

Wait wait wait.

This book about a woman with seven husbands is queer? I was immediately in.

I downloaded a copy on Libby and started reading…but something was off. I don’t know if it was the writing or the format but I couldn’t get into it.

Trust me, I know how absurd that sounds. Taylor Jenkins Reid is a great writer. 2017’s The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo is her fifth published novel and the one directly following – Daisy Jones & the Six – was made into a mini-series on Prime. This woman knows what she’s doing.

Still, something bugged me about reading Evelyn Hugo. Then, a few months later, that all too familiar cover popped up on my Spotify. Stalking me. Calling to me.

After listening to one chapter, I was hooked. It was like this book was written to be narrated aloud. The narrators (Alma Cuervo, Julia Whelan, and Robin Miles) did a great job jumping from our present day narrator Monique’s point of view to Evelyn’s vivid recounting of the golden age of Hollywood to the snarky tabloid snippets of the past.

It’s an incredible story that I hungrily needed to finish once I became invested. Jenkins Reid is very talented at creating tension and raising questions from the first few pages. Hell, she did this from the cover.

Who is Evelyn Hugo and why should I care?

Why seven husbands?

The novel would have been great with simply answering these questions, but we were given a few delicious and devastating twists as well.

As always, I won’t throw in any spoilers but I will say what worked and didn’t work. I appreciated Monique’s personal storyline, rich with its own history and drama which our author dove into just enough to develop the character. As a Black woman, I enjoyed the representation through Monique (a biracial journalist who has been tasked with writing Evelyn’s life story). I also appreciated the queer storyline and the steamy scenes that read quite poetically – both tasteful and overwhelmingly romantic.

On the other side, I would have loved a bit more character development of Monique’s mother. The ending also seemed to come rather quickly, which could have just been my unwillingness to part from the story.

This review is shorter than my others because I feel like I cheated by listening to an audiobook. I didn’t get to underline especially well-written excerpts or connect with the author’s writing style. Regardless, I have no regrets. I’m grateful to have finally discovered why this book is so beloved. I’m even more grateful to learn that Netflix has been working on bringing this story to the screen.

Now, let me go come up with my dream cast. I’ll see y’all at the premiere.

Four and a half stars.

THEN SHE WAS GONE BY LISA JEWELL

This book made me sick to my stomach.

I’m skipping my usual review introduction: Omg, I’m such a bad reader. I haven’t written a review in years. Blah blah blah.

No. I have to tell you about the physical reactions that flooded through my body with each and every page. Well, maybe not every page. Lisa Jewell’s 2017 novel, Then She Was Gone actually bored me at first. I found myself putting it down and finding excuses to read other books and do other tasks. Then it got good and everything that wasn’t Then She Was Gone was an inconvenience.

What do you mean you bought tickets to the sold-out Barbie movie that I’ve been dying to see? Don’t you know my book just got good?

Jokes aside, let’s talk about the plot. Without spoiling anything, the story centers around the disappearance of a glittering and popular teenage girl named Ellie. She’s blonde haired, well-mannered, and well-loved. She’s likable. Once Ellie vanishes, we stick close to her mother, Laurel, whose thoughts swirl around Ellie and nothing else…for years. She is a shell of her former self until she is awoken. Then things get even more mysterious and sinister and perplexing than I thought possible. Laurel turns into a detective while coming to terms with the neglect she’s shown to her other two children and husband over the years. Eventually, a few other characters’ voices come into play.

In writing this review, I’m realizing I can’t even tell you what made me want to heave without sharing spoilers. We’re gonna have to start a book club, y’all. But I will say that it wasn’t just blood and gore that had me heaving. It was the slow realizations of betrayal; the intimate kind. Everything was too close, too concentrated. A little nauseating microcosm in one London neighborhood.

It all felt real, too. I’ve heard bits of every part of this story in true crime documentaries and news articles. I hate it all. You should read it.

As this is the writer who reads blog, we should talk about the writing. I’m always in awe when a story is all over the place and still makes sense. How does that work, Lisa Jewell? How does that look in your head? We have multiple narrators who tell the story in various ways: present tense, past tense, letter writing, and some weirdly aggressive form of journal writing. I ate it up. It wasn’t just the plot that kept me turning the page, but the need to get back to my favorite character and/or out of a psychopath’s head.

Amidst all of that, Jewell gives us some great writing. I would call her writing style balanced. Easy to read, clear, and laced with some really beautiful lines. Like when Laurel has a moment of self-reflection:

She’s talking in lazy clichés, using words that don’t quite add up to the sum of her disquiet.

p136

Maybe I just really love the word disquiet. Or maybe I liked how Laurel always seemed to call herself out internally because I can relate. Speaking of Laurel’s mind, there’s this bit in chapter 23 after another character shares their feelings:

The pronouncement is both surprising and completely predictable. She can’t process it fast enough and there is a small but prominent silence.

p129

I love how succinct Jewell is here. In two short sentences she says so much about Laurel’s emotional state, her ideas about this character, and gives a peak into the aftermath. The silence will affect them both.

As I wrap up this review, I’m remembering a moment right before the book got can’t-put-it-down good. My partner’s sister saw my book on the counter and mentioned that she’d read it awhile ago. She said something liked, “I can’t really remember much about it but it was really good.” Now that I’ve finished and gone through six stages of nausea, I need to ask her how she’d managed to forget the plot.

This book will stay with me. I’ll probably have the occasional nightmare. If I have a teenage daughter, she may never be allowed outside alone. Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll forget on purpose.

At any rate, I thoroughly enjoyed this read and Lisa Jewell’s ability to stir a world’s worth of feelings within me in 356 pages.

Four and half stars.

THE WRITER UPDATE: FOR OCTOBER

Wow. It’s been over 5 years since I’ve written one of these updates!

My poem, “For October” was published in the July-August issue of The Gay & Lesbian Review and I just got my hands on a copy! This is the first poem I’ve ever had published and the first time I’m seeing my work in print. You can buy a print or digital copy here if you’re so inclined.

There’s nothing like finding out your creative work is being published. It’s exciting, affirming, and thrilling. It’s also always a little (read: very) terrifying for me. This time feels even more terrifying because I’m wading into a new genre: poetry.

My poetry writing started in college when I was really into intertwining religious themes from my Catholic upbringing with my queer identity. I left the church but kept the mysticism. Eventually, I moved onto love poems. I’m one of those mushy stereotypical love poets. Even worse, I really catch my stride in poetry when I’m teetering on romantic desperation and longing. Break my heart, don’t give me the attention I want? At least I’ve got some good writing content out of it.

I wrote “For October” in 2018, submitted it to The G&LR in the summer of 2022, and received word it would be published a year later. It’s been a long journey. The momentary love-madness captured in “For October” has gone. The woman who inspired it is gone. The veneration and self-sacrifice is gone. Still, I’m comforted that a significant moment in my past can live somewhere in its full intensity.

Until the next one.

x