Currently Reading: Writers & Lovers by Lily King
Started Today On: Page 31

Today began with a rush as soon as I checked my phone for notifications. The seconds it takes between gaining consciousness and worrying are usually a concern, but today it was the right move. A message from a coworker: I had to come in earlier.

My commute to work took the same amount of time it does when I’m on time, as the public transportation is as predictable as it could be in this city. I read 3 pages as I enjoyed the free space in my carriage. The rest of the journey was spent worrying about a particular glare from a seat across from me.

No break at work, chaotic commute, and then: a cancelled lesson.

I had some spare time to read! Excited to jump back into a character I was already growing fond of, I realized I had spoken too soon.

Within the first chapter, King’s strength in character design turned into a mould. Casey and Silas play the roles of a socialist writer who views the world in black and white, and an absurdist poet who can’t distinguish between white and ultraviolet.

“I wrote a poem about bees.”

“I hate bees.”

“It just came out of me whole this morning.” His face was lit up. He lay down on the cot in my cabin. “How can you hate bees?”

“I don’t like the hive concept, the way the drones are crawling all over each other, programmed to serve the queen. I don’t like the gooey larvae or the idea of royal jelly or the way they swarm. It’s one of my biggest fears, being covered in bees.”

He was impressed by my quick list of grievances. “But they are also life-giving.”

Page 37

The dialogue created to establish a saturated dynamic within the first chapter partially shattered the faith I had in the plot. Lily King often impresses with her flowing, vivid prose, and when her protagonist took over the words, their voices split too suddenly. When Casey spoke, I recoiled.

“When I’m Not in Love’ came on, with that line about how he keeps her picture ‘upon’ the wall because of a stain that’s lyin’ there, we were laughing too hard to sing along.”

Page 38

As soon as I was engulfed in a scene in the middle of May, somewhere I have never been, language that never coincided with the narration appeared. Just as King effectively detaches her style from our narrator’s, I begin to doubt the aspiring writer whose story I am following:

“I touched the goat’s soft horns: one, two. He did the same. He smelled faintly of poop and Desenex. I was surprised how quickly that word ‘Desenex’ came to me. How did I even know it?
One, two on the horns. Three on his nose.”

Page 39

Inspirational motifs and themes are often discussed, I assume, to establish depth that creates balance, and Casey’s input seemingly always contrasts the universal rule being discussed.

Inspirational motifs and themes are often discussed, I assume, to establish depth that creates balance, and Casey’s input seemingly always contrasts the universal rule being discussed.

“I didn’t know many couples. My friends seemed to get married and disappear.

Or maybe I disappeared.”

And then I read the last 10 pages.

I was engulfed once again.

King’s writing took over, and I no longer knew who the characters were. The scenes flipped past as the dialogue dropped you exactly where you needed to be. I was facing the red house, with the couple who didn’t want me there.

And I didn’t know why either.

Started Today On: Page 31
Ended On: Page 53
Pages Read Today: 22