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slowreadersclub 's review for:
Soft Core
by Brittany Newell
in soft core, brittany newell crafts a vivid, atmospheric descent into san francisco's gritty yet enchanting underbelly, following ruth—our elusive, whip-smart protagonist—who spends her nights as baby, a dancer, seductress and professional mystery. ruth is haunted by the sudden disappearance of her ex-lover, dino, which prompts an unlikely odyssey through the city’s twilight, from bdsm dungeons to late-night bus depots, with encounters as strange as they are revelatory. ruth is keenly observant, both charmed and appalled by the people she meets along the way.
newell creates a delicate balance of erotic and tender, capturing the transient alliances and rivalries in ruth’s world with unvarnished realism. there’s a surprising sense of sisterhood in these hidden spaces, a camaraderie among dancers that feels both fragile and fierce, grounded by the shared reality of catering to male fantasy. newell resists a purely cynical view of the sex industry, imbuing ruth’s relationships with subtle shades of understanding and even empathy. this world isn’t simply something to survive—it’s a stage on which ruth explores her own desires and the ways love, power, and identity become blurred.
the story feels like it’s on the edge of reality, full of characters who seem half-familiar, half-out-of-focus. it unfolds in a series of vignettes, slipping between past and present as ruth tries to piece together how she ended up here and what, if anything, she’s looking for. it’s a novel that reads like snapshots of nights out and mornings after, flashes of clarity in a fog.
soft core is a weird and beautiful ride about identity, connection, and survival in the in-between. brutally cool, propulsive and reflective, it’s an electric read that captures the disorienting journey of self-discovery in a world that demands constant reinvention.
newell creates a delicate balance of erotic and tender, capturing the transient alliances and rivalries in ruth’s world with unvarnished realism. there’s a surprising sense of sisterhood in these hidden spaces, a camaraderie among dancers that feels both fragile and fierce, grounded by the shared reality of catering to male fantasy. newell resists a purely cynical view of the sex industry, imbuing ruth’s relationships with subtle shades of understanding and even empathy. this world isn’t simply something to survive—it’s a stage on which ruth explores her own desires and the ways love, power, and identity become blurred.
the story feels like it’s on the edge of reality, full of characters who seem half-familiar, half-out-of-focus. it unfolds in a series of vignettes, slipping between past and present as ruth tries to piece together how she ended up here and what, if anything, she’s looking for. it’s a novel that reads like snapshots of nights out and mornings after, flashes of clarity in a fog.
soft core is a weird and beautiful ride about identity, connection, and survival in the in-between. brutally cool, propulsive and reflective, it’s an electric read that captures the disorienting journey of self-discovery in a world that demands constant reinvention.