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Graphic: Cancer, Infidelity, Alcohol
Moderate: Death, Sexual content, Vomit, Death of parent
Minor: Child abuse, Drug use, Emotional abuse, Physical abuse, Fire/Fire injury
Moderate: Cancer, Emotional abuse, Death of parent
Minor: Alcoholism, Body shaming, Bullying, Cancer, Child abuse, Chronic illness, Confinement, Cursing, Death, Domestic abuse, Eating disorder, Emotional abuse, Infidelity, Panic attacks/disorders, Sexual content, Toxic relationship, Vomit, Medical content, Grief, Religious bigotry, Death of parent, Murder, Fire/Fire injury, Gaslighting, Toxic friendship, Abandonment, Alcohol
Graphic: Cancer, Infidelity, Grief, Death of parent
Moderate: Emotional abuse, Sexual content, Fire/Fire injury
Minor: Child abuse, Vomit, Alcohol
Graphic: Grief, Death of parent
Moderate: Cancer, Infidelity, Sexual content
Minor: Death, Domestic abuse, Emotional abuse, Vomit, Alcohol
Graphic: Sexual content, Alcohol
Moderate: Alcoholism, Cancer, Child abuse, Domestic abuse, Emotional abuse, Infidelity, Vomit, Death of parent, Fire/Fire injury
Graphic: Infidelity, Death of parent
Moderate: Cancer, Child abuse, Emotional abuse
Minor: Cancer, Emotional abuse, Death of parent
Graphic: Alcoholism, Cancer, Mental illness, Grief, Death of parent, Abandonment, Alcohol
Moderate: Cursing, Death, Emotional abuse, Infidelity, Sexual content, Toxic relationship, Medical trauma, Fire/Fire injury, Injury/Injury detail
Minor: Child abuse, Homophobia, Physical abuse, Xenophobia, Vomit, Car accident
January and Gus had chemistry so thick you could spread it on toast, but that doesn’t mean they were flawless. January felt real—messy, snarky, and self-destructing in a very “I wrote this in my Notes app at 3 a.m.” kind of way. Gus brought the required amount of brooding and emotional constipation, but he sometimes crossed over into "walking Tumblr post" territory. Their banter carried the book, no question, and side characters like Shadi and Pete brought welcome doses of chaos and warmth. Still, a few supporting roles felt like cardboard cutouts labeled “Plot Function.” Sonya was basically a plot twist in yoga pants. Memorable? Kind of. Fully realized? Not quite.
Small beach town in Michigan? Cozy. Haunted house full of dad-secrets? Intriguing. Carnival vomiting? …Unforgettable, unfortunately. The atmosphere worked in the sense that I knew where I was supposed to be, but it rarely transported me. The setting felt more like a backdrop than a living, breathing part of the story. That said, the windowsill Post-it flirting and parallel desk writing sessions? That’s the kind of emotional geography I’ll remember. Just don’t ask me what the name of the town was or how many times they actually went to the beach.
Emily Henry writes like she’s trying to seduce you and give you an emotional breakdown at the same time—and honestly, it works. Her prose is sharp, funny, devastating, and full of lines that make you want to throw your Kindle across the room out of sheer admiration. Occasionally she veers into metaphor overload or overwrought introspection, but the voice is so strong it steamrolls any complaints. It’s vulnerable, it’s whip-smart, and it hits. Even when it’s a bit too proud of itself, I can’t stay mad at it.
The plot was ambitious. Like “I’m going to write about grief, betrayal, cults, and a book-writing bet” ambitious. And honestly? It kind of worked. Kind of. The dual plotlines—romance and daddy issues—fought each other for space, and the pacing suffered because of it. The bet between Gus and January was full of potential, but it felt more like a cute setup than an actual structural backbone. Still, the story delivered some great emotional punches, even if they were occasionally surrounded by filler and romantic procrastination.
There’s something addictive about two emotionally damaged writers flirting over shared trauma and unresolved manuscript deadlines. The book had me turning pages—not always because of what was happening, but because I needed to see how long it would take for Gus to break emotionally or January to throw her gin at the wall. The cult research subplot felt a little random but weirdly compelling, like watching a true crime documentary in the middle of a rom-com. Was it always cohesive? Not at all. Was I intrigued anyway? You bet.
Let’s talk relationship realism. Did I believe these two authors would fall for each other while competing to write in the other’s genre? Sure. Did I believe they’d keep having the same emotional argument fifty-seven times instead of using their big writer words to talk like grownups? Not so much. The emotional beats sometimes felt a little choreographed, like: insert trauma reveal here, cue slow dancing there. And the resolution with January’s dad and Sonya fizzled after all the buildup. Still, the push and pull between Gus and January made sense in a “two people with intimacy issues cosplaying as enemies” kind of way.
Did I laugh? Yes. Cry? Yes. Briefly contemplate throwing my phone into the lake during a monologue about the meaninglessness of life? Also yes. Beach Read was not the frothy, flirty beach vacation I was promised—it was more like falling in love at a funeral. But it delivered a slow-burn romance with teeth, humor with bite, and enough existential dread to keep things grounded. I didn’t escape reading it, but I felt something. And I’ll recommend it—with the caveat that you might leave the book a little more emotionally wrecked than when you started.
A romance with a literary fiction complex. Funny, raw, a little overstuffed, but hard not to love—even when it hurts your feelings and eats your heart like a sad, sexy piranha.
Graphic: Grief, Death of parent
Moderate: Emotional abuse, Infidelity, Alcohol
Minor: Cancer, Cursing, Mental illness, Sexual content