I've decided not to give Glitterland a star rating. I have a very complicated relationship with this book. I first tried to read it when I was stuck iI've decided not to give Glitterland a star rating. I have a very complicated relationship with this book. I first tried to read it when I was stuck in/very burned out on a job in the mental health field working with...well, with people like Ash. I love Alexis Hall's books so much, but I didn't realize how triggering it would be for me at the time. Almost a year later, I am several months removed from that job and I was able to finish the book and even enjoy a lot of it (Nicholas Boulton's rendition of Darian on the audiobook is gold). It's one of those books that I objectively love and am in awe of considering it's a debut, but it was still difficult for me to spend that much time in Ash's head. I struggled to turn off my inner therapist and just be a reader because he hit so many of my helper baggage buttons. At some point I'd like to tackle the mental health rep in this book, but that's for a time when I have the bandwidth to immerse myself in it again. Anyway, I didn't want to leave this just sitting on my "Read" shelf without explaining.
CWs: bipolar depression, anxiety/panic attacks, past self-harm and suicide attempt, hospitalization due to mental illness, bullying/abusive language about mental illness...more
I'm pretty sure I saw this recommended somewhere on social media, because I normally wouldn't pick up a hockey romance without a specific recommendatiI'm pretty sure I saw this recommended somewhere on social media, because I normally wouldn't pick up a hockey romance without a specific recommendation. So whoever that was that made me want to read it, here's your non-specific shoutout and I apologize for not making a specific note about it.
I struggled (still am) with how to review/rate this book. On the one hand, it is full of emotionally engaging characters and extremely well-written. I couldn't give two shits about hockey but I cared a little bit for the sake of this book. It also has some pretty unapologetic representation of trauma and mental health struggles--including on-page therapy that was fairly realistic! But therein lies my hang-up. Something about the narrative progression of these mental health concerns didn't quite land for me. I fully believe another reader could experience this book differently than I did. Take this response for what it is: my response, and a pondering of how much this actually works versus how much I want it to work.
Alright, let's get into it. One of the main characters, Laurent, has a very intense history of physical and emotional abuse at the hands of his father. He has physical and mental scars. He has never experienced physical touch that didn't intend to hurt and control him. On the other hand, the other main character Isaac is the epitome of comfort in oneself and one's body. He is observant and careful and notices pretty quickly that Laurent does not enjoy being touched, even when the touch is intended as non-threatening. Since Isaac is a wonderful if imperfect person, he manages to quickly forge a friendship with Laurent that even more quickly turns romantic...and therefore physical.
The speed with which Laurent becomes comfortable with Isaac's touch was somewhat disconcerting. The author took so much care with depicting Laurent's loathing for the way he inhabits his body and how that is related to the trauma he's experienced; it felt whiplash-y that he became okay with Isaac touching him as early as he did (around the 30% mark). The progression of their physical relationship in relation to Laurent's emotional growth felt like shades of magic peen to me. At least, it did until a moment WAY later in the book when there's a passing mention that Laurent has done some research/exploring and realized he's demisexual. I wished in that moment that there had been more attention paid to his discovering that or even wondering it. There's a lot of discussion about how he doesn't know if he's even straight or gay because he avoids touch so much that he doesn't even know what he enjoys. But not until that throwaway line is there any consideration of him being on the ace spectrum. Instead, I spent the majority of the book feeling apprehensive that an unfair burden was being placed on Isaac as the only person Laurent feels physically safe with; and wondering what kind of fallout there might be for Laurent that he's focused so much of his healing process on this relationship. I would have liked, too, some exploration of how Laurent being demi interacts or doesn't with his physical trauma. At the end, the balance in their relationship felt off to me because of this.
That's not to say this isn't a good book! I just...struggled at times. I landed on four stars because I think ultimately it deserves it. I also don't think anything I mentioned above is actually harmful for readers, barring personal interactions with the CWs. I just felt that what the author was trying to do with this story could have been so much more. My issues with it distracted me enough that I can only say that I liked it, not that I loved it.
CW: descriptions of past physical/emotional abuse, homophobia and homophobic slurs, references to conversion therapy, character used to be homeless, character with eating disorder and self harm (shown on-page), on-page physical fights/assault...more
If you’re a Kennedy Ryan fan, I think this book will surprise you a little. I tend to think of her books as packing quite the punch to the solar plexuIf you’re a Kennedy Ryan fan, I think this book will surprise you a little. I tend to think of her books as packing quite the punch to the solar plexus as far as themes and emotions. And it’s not that Queen Move doesn’t do that—but there’s something softer here. Maybe it’s that the characters are so solid in their identities, so there isn’t angst about finding themselves. It’s just a story about two seriously stunning people finding each other again. And it’s beautiful.
I seriously loved Ezra. I think he’s Ryan’s version of a cinnamon roll hero. He’s still driven and has a possessive streak for his one true love, of course, but he’s also the most generous, passionate, kindest man. He’s the kind of guy that if I met him IRL, I’d be both incredibly impressed by and overwhelmingly attracted to. He’s the perfect man for Kimba, whose fierceness is more overt. She’s the true queen here—she knows exactly who she is, makes no apologies, and takes no prisoners. They work together in a way that makes so much sense as you’re watching it play out.
This book still deals with very serious themes, of course (check CWs below for more). Kimba is a political consultant and the work-related issues that come up are current and relevant. Ezra is half Jewish and half black and there’s a lot of discussion of how he deals with the intersection of those identities and the “othering” he experiences because of prejudices embedded in the community he grows up in. As always, I appreciate the care and attention Ryan gives to sensitive topics and to representing cultural identities that aren’t her own.
Queen Move is a fantastic follow-up to the All The King’s Men duet but is also strong enough to stand on its own. However, I do think you’ll get more out of it having read that duet first.
Disclaimer: I received an ARC of this book in exchange for my honest review. I also read an earlier draft of the book as a sensitivity reader and provided feedback to the author.
CW: racism, misogynoir, infertility and related medical treatments, pregnancy, death of parent and scene at a funeral, mentions of cheating, death of family member due to cancer, on-page sex, on-page use of marijuana and alcohol...more
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