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Bloom

Delilah S. Dawson

this book is best read in an excruciatingly slow line at a Target, and wherever you get in the story before it's your turn to checkout, is enough, because you can more or less write the ending yourself and not be far off from the published version (especially if you have seen or read King's 'Misery')

in a nutshell: An inexplicably employed English professor with heretofore no (homo)sexual desires in her entire life is thrust into them by a waifish cupcake baker who tragically has no personality but plenty of vibrant red flags, which the idiot English professor (despite repeatedly claiming to be so cautious in love due to her mistreatment at the hands of her last and only ex) sails past because truly, the way to the heart is through the stomach, and the waif is a great chef whose favorite cookbook is straight from that famous Twilight Zone episode, 'To Serve Man'

the vibes: Prior to reading this I came across a thread on twitter discussing a growing conspiracy among book lovers that suggests some popular authors are slipping product placement or advertisements into their work. 'That sounds so ludicrous and would be far too obvious to successfully execute,' I dismissively thought to myself. Until the 3rd mention of Target, when I found a tinfoil hat had appeared on my head as I muttered to myself, 'Is this book secretly sponsored by Target?' At one point I started keeping a list of every corporation mentioned, but then gave up because, god is dead. And now we learn how to eat cupcakes based off a gif we saw on Tumblr once.

main themes: Cupcakes, unctuous cupcakes. The dangers of dating women who don't text. Learning to believe in 'magic' again as a surly hag at the end of your 20s. The necessity of name-dropping Austen and making Shakespeare references as often as possible when trying to woo a woman, so she knows you are Smart, and Not Like Other Girls. Also, cupcakes.

the writing: The level of writing in this is good in that it reminds you, 'if something this poorly-written can be published, you too should shoot your shot and write!' In such contrast to BOBitMS-- where Schwab takes care to explore the potential danger and toxicity in the power given to the first queer person to see you in all your queerness, and allow you to live in it-- this tale just reads as "what if serial killer, but woman?" Nothing about this read as authentically queer to me at all. Yeah, two women fuck off-page, but as a life-long homo I could not help but feel insulted with the infantilizing line of thought "Is she looking at my butt? Wait, do women look at butts?" Jesus Christ, lesbians are still people too. Very much read as someone with zero queer experience writing queer characters. The gayest part of this book was our heroine deciding to stalk her perceived romantic rival by attending her dramatic monologue performance which-- drum roll, please-- was the Cool Girl monologue from Gone Girl. YES. By far my favorite part, genuinely made me laugh, 5 stars for that scene.

me

This was a selection from my horror book club, which I did not vote for but was still excited for, because as stated many times, I love amoral women, queers who kill, and a cute girly romance. The silence at the opening of our book club meeting for this book was heavy; I was determined not to speak until someone else corroborated my feelings on this. No one likes an unnecessary Hater. Thank god, the ex-teacher amongst us threw the first rotten apple, and the dam opened for everyone else to agree, at the least, that this was not a good book. It remains the only book we as an entire 13-person group, collectively decided to Not Finish.

I am old, I remember when Bill Clinton was president, I have never had a Tiktok, so I am only aware of the phenomenon of "BookTok" whenever its drama spills into the book subreddits or author circles of twitter I like to lurk in. This was the first book I've read that felt like a 'BookTok' book to me, even though I cannot earnestly describe what the hell I even mean by that: it's a vibe. Bewildered, I kept looking through apps and websites of user reviews, stunned at the many 4 and 5 star reviews raving about this book. I felt like I was the crazy one, like how, out of the staggering cannon of great literature humanity has amassed over our centuries, is this rated higher than, I don't know, Woolf's 'The Waves'?? Oh my god, how did I get outside? Why am I yelling at this cloud? Where is my cane? Fuck these clouds!