I think this book was definitely a challenging read, not lexically at all but semantically. It hurts to see a somewhat innocent woman in pain, especially when black. Raven Leilani writes raw, and doesn’t hold back and almost prods too sharply into your own wounds as a young black woman. Leilani frames city life as fearsome, love as hopeless and unrequited on all ends, and sadness as an inevitable border around all of the above. The fiction of this text is its own hope in my life at least, but a distant cry goes out to those for which this is less fictional.
There’s something about the way this book is written, that fools me, really fools me. It makes you think its enchanting and and eloquent but really its a collection of words that mean very little. Some sentences work. In fact many do, but often the ones that follow are so terribly cliche, drab and juvenile that it ruins it and you start the Stockholm from zero again. Yet, she achieves some sort of chemistry between the two and their gazes, and their erratic stomachs and bloodstreams, so I persist.
P.S I checked and the word gaze is used a whopping 103 times in the book. You never think you would but I wish Lori would have used a thesaurus that many times instead.
I feel like this book, full of literal smut and smutty introspection, is a book for those looking for a quick heart facing fix. The dynamic between the two starts of exciting, the heat of their first meeting it definitely there… but quickly falls into classic tropes and boring stretches of self justification and empty rhetoric. I would read it again if I felt for some fast paced quick banter but never cover to cover.