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ptstewart 's review for:
Unnecessary Drama
by Nina Kenwood
Look, objectively, critically, this is bad. Brooke’s early characterization is the cookie cutter overly anxious, insecure, childhood-grudgeholding weirdo. Very few concrete scenes take place in the first half of the book, so we kind of experience this weird bird’s eye view of Brooke’s initial adjustment to college, during which time Brooke describes many events but mostly in retrospect, so there’s limited attachment to other characters, settings, or situations. In short, nothing happens for the first half of the book. Further, spending so much time in her head is annoying—Kenwood practically drowns the reader in quirky anxiety.
But.
It also is—dare I say—fun? As the novel progresses, so too does the writing. Brooke’s anxiety seems to develop from paragraph long lists of all the things Brooke needs in order to not have an anxiety attack into an almost tangible (and almost accurate) depiction of real anxiety (please see: Brooke expressing frustration that her sister does not understand that her coping strategies are necessary for her mental stability). In addition, Kenwood expertly wields ASD to bring about comedy and relatability; the blind date scene? I would have done the exact same thing, and I laughed listening to it. Starting with her collapse during her run (I will say, God please just poke my eyes out at the absurd pregnancy spiral there), the reader begins to actually accompany Brooke in her day to day life, and parlaying that into a fake relationship? Say less.
The fervor with which the book improves in its second act is a nod to two things:
1. The first act seemed to have almost no plan, no structure, and poor characterization punctuated by unrealistic motivations.
2. Any story can be saved by adding enough heart and warmth and mixing them with the right time-tested YA tropes.
Unnecessary Drama is lacking in many places from a critical standpoint, even to the point that I was determined to hate it. There are many lose ends (the father, the creative writing class which is excellently described but completely random, Brooke’s severe lack of self esteem, etc). Except, it’s fun, and it’s earnest. Brooke becomes interesting and more realistic, her observations become sharper and more accurate (insightfully accurate), Jesse is sweet but sexy, Harper and the rest of the gang make up an enjoyable community in which Brooke exists. Brooke deals with some real life personal shit, but not in a way that’s overwhelming to the reader. Finally—and thank God for this—the couple gets together and then doesn’t break up because of something stupid. They just get together, he says some extra sweet but not super cliche shit, and then boom, book over. Hell yeah. This was awful. Truly. But really, it’s also the best time. Splendid. Chef’s kiss. Loved it.
But.
It also is—dare I say—fun? As the novel progresses, so too does the writing. Brooke’s anxiety seems to develop from paragraph long lists of all the things Brooke needs in order to not have an anxiety attack into an almost tangible (and almost accurate) depiction of real anxiety (please see: Brooke expressing frustration that her sister does not understand that her coping strategies are necessary for her mental stability). In addition, Kenwood expertly wields ASD to bring about comedy and relatability; the blind date scene? I would have done the exact same thing, and I laughed listening to it. Starting with her collapse during her run (I will say, God please just poke my eyes out at the absurd pregnancy spiral there), the reader begins to actually accompany Brooke in her day to day life, and parlaying that into a fake relationship? Say less.
The fervor with which the book improves in its second act is a nod to two things:
1. The first act seemed to have almost no plan, no structure, and poor characterization punctuated by unrealistic motivations.
2. Any story can be saved by adding enough heart and warmth and mixing them with the right time-tested YA tropes.
Unnecessary Drama is lacking in many places from a critical standpoint, even to the point that I was determined to hate it. There are many lose ends (the father, the creative writing class which is excellently described but completely random, Brooke’s severe lack of self esteem, etc). Except, it’s fun, and it’s earnest. Brooke becomes interesting and more realistic, her observations become sharper and more accurate (insightfully accurate), Jesse is sweet but sexy, Harper and the rest of the gang make up an enjoyable community in which Brooke exists. Brooke deals with some real life personal shit, but not in a way that’s overwhelming to the reader. Finally—and thank God for this—the couple gets together and then doesn’t break up because of something stupid. They just get together, he says some extra sweet but not super cliche shit, and then boom, book over. Hell yeah. This was awful. Truly. But really, it’s also the best time. Splendid. Chef’s kiss. Loved it.