ŷ������

** spoiler alert ** I know the author caught a lot of flak in the past for “being a heterosexual cis woman writing about gay characters�� to the point where she felt forced to come out, and I truly sympathize with that - she should never have had to reveal details that she preferred to keep private. Her sexuality did not define her as an author or gatekeep who she could or couldn’t write about.

But.

I know it’s fiction, but it felt almost memoir-like for an author who didn’t realize/come out as bi until later in life. Imogen was questioning herself on literally. every. page.

There was a text conversation that mentioned “there was discourse�� and I wanted to yell THIS. THAT IS WHAT THIS IS. A MOUNTAIN OF DISCOURSE. There was no plotline that wasn’t centered on Imogen or her friends�� sexual orientation. I feel like the sum total of what I know about her friends, other than each one’s distinct sexual orientation, is: Mika is a TikTok star who builds dioramas, Gretchen decided to go to Vassar, and the friends are in a tiny sausage hiding war and obsessed with a “dark academia�� party. (Side note: I teach high school. I guarantee if I asked them tomorrow what one would wear to a dark academia party, they would give me blank stares and ask what in the world that means. YES, even the ones who aren’t cisgender heterosexual teenagers would be confused.)

And the constant “no! I can’t possibly like her! I’m co-opting the gay experience! I’m centering myself where I don’t belong! I’m queer-baiting! I’m falsely appropriating what isn’t mine!�� was exhausting. I could not be friends with someone whose entire personality (Gretchen, in particular) revolved around judging who is ACTUALLY queer and who is faking for attention and therefore should be scolded.

The book was exhausting. I felt like Imogen asked herself the same questions 12 times per page, and by halfway through, I just wanted someone to shake her and say, “You have a crush. It’s fine.�� Instead, the reader got 200 more pages of Imogen angsting about the fact that she couldn’t possibly be anyone other than the person her friends had already packaged her up to be. I wanted her to grow a backbone so badly.