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.

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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.

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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

Podcast Episode 18: Eudora Welty

In this episode, we journey into the lush and soulful musings of author Eudora Welty—a woman who used plain observation to confect rich and dynamic portraits of everyday life in the American south.


We examine one of her short stories as part of our “Nostalgia” theme, and carve into complex subjects like narrative reliability, the struggle for power within the family unit, and the universal need to be heard.


Please join us as we try to read a little more, write a little better, and explore the human condition—together.

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Podcast 009.1: Edward Prime-Stevenson

 

In this episode, we explore the little-known yet masterfully crafted work of author Edward Prime-Stevenson—a man who faced persecution with bravado and used his talent to strip away social stigmas.

We analyze one of his novels as part of our “Morality” theme, and dig into compelling subjects like the historical/contemporary implications of gayness, unconventional romance and the importance of self-expression.

Please join us as we try to read a little more, write a little better, and explore the human condition—together.

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

Reading: Imre, a memorandum

Resources:

Left to Themselves: The Subversive Boys Books of Edward Prime-Stevenson

Homosexual Identity, Translation, and Prime-Stevenson’s Imre and The Intersexes

Biography Stevenson, Edward Irenaeus Prime

Manipulating a Genre, “Boy Book”

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Instagram @writerwhoreads

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Podcast 007.2: Fredrika Bremer

In this episode, we peer into the unconventional life and prose of author Fredrika Bremer—a woman whose writing ignited a global shift towards the recognition of women’s rights.

We analyze an excerpt of her work as part of our “Femininity” theme and discuss moving themes like feminism, independence, and personal conviction.

Please join us as we try to read a little more, write a little better, and explore the human condition—together.

Listen on ITunes, Stitcher, Castbox, or right here. Comments and ratings are appreciated on all platforms!

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Twitter @twwreads
Instagram @writerwhoreads

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Podcast 005.2: Alan L Hart

In this episode, we review the trailblazing life and work of Alan L. Hart, M.D., a man whose quiet determination and fortitude sparked a slow-moving change in American social attitudes. We analyze one of his short stories as part of our “Rebirth” theme, and hash over resonant issues like gender identity, self-acceptance and liberty.

Please join us as we try to read a little more, write a little better and explore the human condition–together.

Listen on ITunes, Stitcher, Castbox, or right here. Comments and ratings are appreciated on all platforms!

Reading: An Idyll Of A Country Childhood

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The Writer Update: Kid

I fought with myself about this one.

This entire blog is about the writer who reads, not the writer who writes. If I wanted to post about writing I would have to make a Writer Who Writes blog.

I had that “intelligent” thought and kept my writerly updates to myself and my 200 or so Facebook friends for months. Then, one day—today, ten minutes ago—I decided, as the Writer Who reads who hasn’t read a whole book in months, that nobody needs two blogs (read: no one has time) and that, really, I needed to post something on this blog before it gets stashed under a Vine compilation, tucked behind a meme, swallowed by the rest of the internet, and forgotten altogether.

Now lets get to the juice.

Back in March I got word that my flash fiction piece “Kid” was going to be published in the Crack the Spine online journal. It would also be considered for print later in the year. I bounced around (embarrassingly excited) until it was published in April. I think a lot of my excitement was actually shock, a why the hell are they publishing this and not that kind of feeling.

I can’t count how many rejections I’ve gotten for my ultra time-consuming short stories and novels that have been edited, rewritten, edited, and prayed over (joking…maybe). Yet this little two page story that I wrote on a whim—in less than an hour—beat out the others?

I know what you’re thinking: Shut up and be happy. So I’m going to shut up and, I promise, I’m happy.

 

Read “Kid” here.

Expect a book review soon.

Be happy too.

 

My Spy: Memoir of a CIA Wife by Bina Cady Kiyonaga

I’ve read some rather lukewarm reviews of this autobiography and I don’t understand them.

 My Spy

I like tall people. I like Action. I like spy stories. I like travel. I like hard lives lived easy. I like real women who get things done; who occasionally cry. I like interracial couples. I like family and reality.

Therefore, I like My Spy: Memoir of a CIA Wife, the true story of Bina Cady Kiyonaga who has known, lived, and felt all those things I’ve listed above.

My Spy was a solid Amazon wish list maybe that accidentally wound up in my shopping cart. Two days later, an inattentive essential oil purchase plopped a surprise, book-shaped package on my front porch. And what a great surprise it was.

For the next three days it was My Spy and I making our own private “Read More” campaign montage. Reading in bed, Reading in the bathtub, Reading beneath a tree. Reading is Fun!

Lately I have been trying to pinpoint a character that I have absolutely adored in the novels that I’ve read. And not just adored because they are pure-hearted, but because they are perfect even in their flaws.

The only character to come to mind at first was Katniss Everdeen and that’s only because she reminds me of myself.  My family has taken to calling me Kait-niss, if you want proof. So, shout out to me! (And you, Ange.)

All Hunger Games aside, I’ve never liked someone on the page as much as I have Bina Cady Kiyonaga. You know why? Because this woman is honest, and at points, painfully so. Since reading Benjamin Franklin’s Autobiography (well, as much as I could stand) I have learned not to trust a person’s own biased account of their life, but I trust Bina. She expresses thoughts, experiences, and some insecurities that even your best friend might hesitate to share. I realized this when she explained the complications that befell upon her and her husband, Joe, after the first few days of marriage and a quite unspectacular wedding night. Ehem.

Most of all, I love this autobiography because I like Bad-asses.

Who marries a fine, tall Japanese-American soldier who later becomes a CIA agent? Oh, well, this fabulous Baltimore-born, Irish-American Catholic girl who doesn’t give an eff about 1947-era racism.

Who lived all over the globe, raising five children, and always whole-heartedly working on her marriage? Bina. Bina Cady Kionaga. Keep up, y’all.

I give this novel five stars because of the—what seems like—legitimate honesty within. This woman was not perfect, her family was not perfect, money wasn’t always plentiful, and every thought expressed in the book was not always positive. Yet, somehow, I still aspire to be a woman as strong and alive as Bina.

As a writer, I admit that My Spy wasn’t a vivid work of literary genius, and I’m glad. The book was written conversationally, candidly—and that made the story of the Kiyonaga family that much more enthralling.

Final confession. After days of reading this book non-stop, I put it down a few pages shy of the end…for two years. It didn’t slip my mind. My Spy sat on my dresser, daring me to suck it up and finish. But Joe had become ill and Bina’s language hinted that the outcome would not be pleasant. Death is inevitable for us all, yes, but I couldn’t bear to read her pain. That is what makes this book spectacular: me fearfully staring down the pink cover of My Spy for 730 days.

Thank you for sharing your story, Bina Cady Kiyonaga. Five stars.

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