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jackiehorne's review
4.0
Another 2018 book that slipped to the bottom of my TBR pile, one I'm regretting I didn't read sooner.
The book opens rather abruptly, and confusingly, with first-person narrator, twenty-seven year-old Justin Simos, in the midst of his second sexual three-way with his two best friends, Alex (whom he's known since they were misfit kids together) and Jamie, Alex's girlfriend. The three (who seem to be all white, but their race/ethnicity is never directly referenced) have been friends since college, but since Alex and Jamie became romantically involved five years earlier, Jus has been trying not to feel left out, nursing his longstanding crush on Alex in private while entertaining himself by engaging in emotion-free sex with a series of one-night stands. Their first three-way took place while they were under the influence of alcohol, but now, Jus is frighteningly sober. And when this scene ends, Jus runs away ("I had to get out of there before I ripped myself apart on the ragged edge where pity met love and became... whatever the hell we'd just done [Kindle Loc 211]). Because "This was not an after school special, The Misanthrope Learns to Love, for fuck's sake" [216].
Yeah, that's a lot of backstory to try and unpack during an opening scene! Luckily, the rest of the story unfolds at a far more conventional pace, moving between scenes set at Jus's work (he's the assistant to a successful, and politically conservative, artist) and scenes between Jus with Alex & Jamie in Oakland and at the dilapidated California coast beach cottage Jamie is working to remodel with Jus and Alex's help.
Alex and Jamie are more than willing to let Jus enter their sexual, and romantic, circle. But Jus is, as they say, a hot mess, too afraid of losing their friendship to risk going for something more. He's given up the eating disorder that he used during adolescence to help him feel control over his world, but has replaced it with something equally harmful: keeping tight control over his deepest feelings. Not that Jus himself sees the pattern of his behavior, but it becomes gradually obvious to the reader as acerbic, occasionally cruel Jus keeps trying to keep himself from becoming romantically entangled with the two people he loves most in the world.
Usually I get annoyed by characters who feel that they aren't worthy of the people whom they love, but Jus's self-denigration isn't just a plot device to create fake conflict; it's at the heart of Jus's maladjusted self-image. He's biting and mean to others, but he's worse to himself, believing he's a person who is too much of an asshole, and too sexually kinky, for anyone to really care for, a person who is constitutionally unable to build a romantic relationship with anyone, a person who ruins everything. Ripper shows readers that he's clearly something more, not only by showing us the love and patience both Alex and Jamie have for him, but also via the book's sub-plot, which focuses on his employer's sudden fascination with an artist from the 1980s—an artist who, as a major queer activist and a writer, had a huge impact on Jus as a teen. Re-engaging with this artist's writing leaves Jus a bit more emotionally engaged, and vulnerable, than he's used to being—which in turn primes him to be a little more open to the possibilities that loving Jamie and Alex present.
If only other people in real life were willing to give us seven chances to fail and try again before we get our emotional lives in order, as do Alex and Jamie for Jus...
The book opens rather abruptly, and confusingly, with first-person narrator, twenty-seven year-old Justin Simos, in the midst of his second sexual three-way with his two best friends, Alex (whom he's known since they were misfit kids together) and Jamie, Alex's girlfriend. The three (who seem to be all white, but their race/ethnicity is never directly referenced) have been friends since college, but since Alex and Jamie became romantically involved five years earlier, Jus has been trying not to feel left out, nursing his longstanding crush on Alex in private while entertaining himself by engaging in emotion-free sex with a series of one-night stands. Their first three-way took place while they were under the influence of alcohol, but now, Jus is frighteningly sober. And when this scene ends, Jus runs away ("I had to get out of there before I ripped myself apart on the ragged edge where pity met love and became... whatever the hell we'd just done [Kindle Loc 211]). Because "This was not an after school special, The Misanthrope Learns to Love, for fuck's sake" [216].
Yeah, that's a lot of backstory to try and unpack during an opening scene! Luckily, the rest of the story unfolds at a far more conventional pace, moving between scenes set at Jus's work (he's the assistant to a successful, and politically conservative, artist) and scenes between Jus with Alex & Jamie in Oakland and at the dilapidated California coast beach cottage Jamie is working to remodel with Jus and Alex's help.
Alex and Jamie are more than willing to let Jus enter their sexual, and romantic, circle. But Jus is, as they say, a hot mess, too afraid of losing their friendship to risk going for something more. He's given up the eating disorder that he used during adolescence to help him feel control over his world, but has replaced it with something equally harmful: keeping tight control over his deepest feelings. Not that Jus himself sees the pattern of his behavior, but it becomes gradually obvious to the reader as acerbic, occasionally cruel Jus keeps trying to keep himself from becoming romantically entangled with the two people he loves most in the world.
Usually I get annoyed by characters who feel that they aren't worthy of the people whom they love, but Jus's self-denigration isn't just a plot device to create fake conflict; it's at the heart of Jus's maladjusted self-image. He's biting and mean to others, but he's worse to himself, believing he's a person who is too much of an asshole, and too sexually kinky, for anyone to really care for, a person who is constitutionally unable to build a romantic relationship with anyone, a person who ruins everything. Ripper shows readers that he's clearly something more, not only by showing us the love and patience both Alex and Jamie have for him, but also via the book's sub-plot, which focuses on his employer's sudden fascination with an artist from the 1980s—an artist who, as a major queer activist and a writer, had a huge impact on Jus as a teen. Re-engaging with this artist's writing leaves Jus a bit more emotionally engaged, and vulnerable, than he's used to being—which in turn primes him to be a little more open to the possibilities that loving Jamie and Alex present.
If only other people in real life were willing to give us seven chances to fail and try again before we get our emotional lives in order, as do Alex and Jamie for Jus...
bar_sometimes_reads's review
4.0
While on the surface, I have very little in common with the characters or the plot, this book strongly resonated with me.
I feel that I learned something about the world (this is the first time that I could emotionally comprehend the notion of poly), but also about myself. About the painful, one-foot-in-front-of-the-other, oh-my-God-nothing-is-happening way in which emotional growth happens.
It reminded me that climbing out of emotional holes takes time - a frustratingly long time. But also that it is possible to climb out, even when it doesn't seem like it is.
Oh, and the sex is unbelievably hot (while also being absolutely believable, with all the small mind-fuckeries and insecurities that inevitably come with hot sex).
I feel that I learned something about the world (this is the first time that I could emotionally comprehend the notion of poly), but also about myself. About the painful, one-foot-in-front-of-the-other, oh-my-God-nothing-is-happening way in which emotional growth happens.
It reminded me that climbing out of emotional holes takes time - a frustratingly long time. But also that it is possible to climb out, even when it doesn't seem like it is.
Oh, and the sex is unbelievably hot (while also being absolutely believable, with all the small mind-fuckeries and insecurities that inevitably come with hot sex).
lizzderr's review against another edition
5.0
Justin has a problem. His two best friends, Alex and Jamie, seem to want something from him--something Justin doesn’t feel he can give them. Alex and Jamie have been happily coupled for about five years, and the three of them spent a wild, drunken night together a few years ago. Fail Seven Times picks up as they have a second kinky threesome--this time entirely sober. But Justin feels like he’s on the outside looking in at Alex and Jamie’s perfect relationship, and he can’t see a place for himself as more than their friend. He knows he’d just mess everything up. He knows his best friends deserve better.
Meanwhile, the artist for whom Justin works as an assistant is creating a major project inspired by the work of Enrico Hazeltine. Hazeltine died of AIDS in 1991, and Justin fell in love with him through Hazeltine’s writing when Justin was a troubled adolescent. His boss’s project throws Justin back into Hazeltine’s writings, which get Justin thinking about queerness, and community, and mortality. Most importantly, they bring Justin back to his central question: How could someone like him--snarky, bitter, obsessed with control--deserve true love?
I enjoy the “friends become lovers” and “a couple becomes a triad” tropes, and I’ve particularly enjoyed them as Kris Ripper implemented them in previous novels. As I expected, ze put those tropes to great use here. What caught me off guard, though, was the intensity of Justin’s self-loathing. As someone who has at times had a hard time believing I’m worthy of love, it was difficult watching Alex and Jamie try so hard to love Justin, only to have him push them away. I struggled with whether or not to give the book a five-star rating, because sometimes reading it just hurt too much. In the end, though, I went with five stars, since it was clear that everything I was feeling was exactly what Ripper was trying to make me feel.
As was true in the other two books of zirs I’ve read, I love the community of queer folks and kinksters that Ripper has created on the page here. I also love the beach house Jamie, Alex, and Justin are fixing up, as both a set piece and as a metaphor. Good, good stuff all around.
Note: I was provided with a copy of Fail Seven Times in exchange for an honest review.
Meanwhile, the artist for whom Justin works as an assistant is creating a major project inspired by the work of Enrico Hazeltine. Hazeltine died of AIDS in 1991, and Justin fell in love with him through Hazeltine’s writing when Justin was a troubled adolescent. His boss’s project throws Justin back into Hazeltine’s writings, which get Justin thinking about queerness, and community, and mortality. Most importantly, they bring Justin back to his central question: How could someone like him--snarky, bitter, obsessed with control--deserve true love?
I enjoy the “friends become lovers” and “a couple becomes a triad” tropes, and I’ve particularly enjoyed them as Kris Ripper implemented them in previous novels. As I expected, ze put those tropes to great use here. What caught me off guard, though, was the intensity of Justin’s self-loathing. As someone who has at times had a hard time believing I’m worthy of love, it was difficult watching Alex and Jamie try so hard to love Justin, only to have him push them away. I struggled with whether or not to give the book a five-star rating, because sometimes reading it just hurt too much. In the end, though, I went with five stars, since it was clear that everything I was feeling was exactly what Ripper was trying to make me feel.
As was true in the other two books of zirs I’ve read, I love the community of queer folks and kinksters that Ripper has created on the page here. I also love the beach house Jamie, Alex, and Justin are fixing up, as both a set piece and as a metaphor. Good, good stuff all around.
Note: I was provided with a copy of Fail Seven Times in exchange for an honest review.
ladyvictoriadiana's review
emotional
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
5.0
bookstosoothethesoul's review against another edition
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
carinav's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
Content Warnings
Minor: Eating disorder
cleo_reads's review against another edition
3.0
3 1/2 stars. I think. I enjoyed this queer, poly kinky romance, although I think I like the idea of it more than I enjoyed reading it.
It’s a sequel to Practice Makes Perfect and is part of the author’s Scientific Method Universe. Technically it’s stand alone but I think It makes much more sense if you’ve read PMP. The main character (and 1st person pov narrator) Justin was introduced in PMP - in PMP he makes a decision that leads directly to the opening scene of Fail Seven Times. And honestly, even though I read PMP first, I still felt like there was half a chapter missing from the beginning of the book.
It’s written from Justin’s pov and he’s full of self loathing and honestly it was hard to be in his head sometimes. The whole conflict is that he’s in love with his two best friends (a queer, poly couple) and thinks he’s unworthy. His main character arc is figuring out how to let people love him and like him.
There’s quite a bit of sex in this book and typical of Kris Ripper, some is really sexy, some is really emotional and some is meh. But all of it moves the plot and their relationship as a triad.
It’s a sequel to Practice Makes Perfect and is part of the author’s Scientific Method Universe. Technically it’s stand alone but I think It makes much more sense if you’ve read PMP. The main character (and 1st person pov narrator) Justin was introduced in PMP - in PMP he makes a decision that leads directly to the opening scene of Fail Seven Times. And honestly, even though I read PMP first, I still felt like there was half a chapter missing from the beginning of the book.
It’s written from Justin’s pov and he’s full of self loathing and honestly it was hard to be in his head sometimes. The whole conflict is that he’s in love with his two best friends (a queer, poly couple) and thinks he’s unworthy. His main character arc is figuring out how to let people love him and like him.
There’s quite a bit of sex in this book and typical of Kris Ripper, some is really sexy, some is really emotional and some is meh. But all of it moves the plot and their relationship as a triad.
dmbooks's review against another edition
emotional
funny
hopeful
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
Content Warnings
Moderate: Eating disorder
Minor: Alcoholism
loverofeels's review against another edition
tbh i love the premise but it's too slow paced for me and the writing could maybe be better quality
nikica_k's review against another edition
emotional
hopeful
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.5
This wonderful story follows Justin, who is navigating falling in love with his childhood best friend, Alex, and Alex's long-term girlfriend, Jamie. It's a story about polyamory, love, kink, but mostly about a man learning to let other people close and let himself be cared for.
I suppose that your mileage may vary when it comes to this, but I didn't find Justin's long character development boring, even though it took him ages. It seemed real and made sense for him in context.
As probably in all of zir works, Kris Ripper tries to deconstruct the idea of sexuality and leaves the characters a lot of freedom in their queer identity. I also appreciated the portrayal of kink - it seemed genuine and raw and less concerned with the mechanics of it than with the feeling and the connection.
This quote from the beginning of the book really stayed with me - it seems so raw and beautiful at the same time:
I suppose that your mileage may vary when it comes to this, but I didn't find Justin's long character development boring, even though it took him ages. It seemed real and made sense for him in context.
As probably in all of zir works, Kris Ripper tries to deconstruct the idea of sexuality and leaves the characters a lot of freedom in their queer identity. I also appreciated the portrayal of kink - it seemed genuine and raw and less concerned with the mechanics of it than with the feeling and the connection.
This quote from the beginning of the book really stayed with me - it seems so raw and beautiful at the same time:
Suddenly I could see it so fucking clearly it was hard to resist doing: I’d stride over, confident, because I knew them, and they knew me, and we all felt this thing between us. I’d meet their eyes, unashamed and unafraid, and drop down, and the icy chill of the water would be shocking on my skin, the heavy wetness of jeans would tug at my waist, and I would ignore it.
I’d want to look into their faces, but even in the fantasy of it, I was bashful, lowering my head. They would touch me, of course. Coax me past embarrassment, meet me in a place of mutual exposure, of shared vulnerability.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Eating disorder