Georgie, All Along has the bones of a highly-recognizable setup: Georgie Mulcahy has just lost her demanding, high-powered job as a personal assistant to a Hollywood star, and responds by stuffing her (very few) belongings into trash bags, throwing them in the back of her car, and driving home to the small Virginia town she grew up in. Once there, she discovers that her parents, off on a road trip, have "double booked" themselves a set of house-sitters: Georgie, and Levi, the taciturn, bearded older-brother of the golden-boy football star she used to be in love with in high school.
Hello, familiar genre waters! "Returning from your high-powered job to your small hometown only to find love with the hot older brother of your former crush" is one of romance's tales as old as time. And something I really appreciated about Georgie, All Along is that - while it inspects and questions and deepens its own relationship to this well-trodden genre staple - you never get the sense that it's looking down on it, or denying why it attracts readers.
That being said, this book is very much offering its own take. One way it does that is via its flashy "pick this book up" hook: upon returning home, Georgie discovers a "friend fic" that she and her best friend Bel wrote. And so Georgie - who is lacking direction in her life after losing her job - decides that maybe going back and living out her high school dreams, one by one, might give her a better idea of who she is and what she wants. And who better to help her than the grumpy older brother of the very same high school crush whose name is all over this friend fic in puffy sparkle pen? The fic is, on the surface, Georgie, All Along's principal invention - the hook it uses to bring readers to this iteration of a romance plot classic, rather than any other.
And... I don't want to say the "friend fic" has nothing to do with how this book creates its own version of a genre staple. But rather than being the fundamental innovative element, it served more as a thematic touchstone. One that the text could return to as it developed an incredibly nuanced deconstruction and exploration of two questions at the heart of its own genre referent: what is the appeal of "going back" home? And what is it that connects readers, on a human level, to the archetypes of a "flighty and somewhat aimless" heroine and the "taciturn outcast" hero?
So here's where I start to fall apart and lose coherence, because I kind of cannot believe how well this book does both of those things. I must say, I had my skepticism firmly in place for the "going back" element of this story from the very start. I have... the opposite of any interest in going back to where I grew up, either physically or (perhaps especially) emotionally. So Georgie's idea that she could somehow gain clarity on her life by returning to who she was and what she wanted when she was in high school was, to be perfectly frank, not appealing to me in the slightest. But I should have trusted Kate Clayborn, because if there's one thing she does well (though, trust me, there's more than one), it's having a central a theme in each book, and finding all kinds of interconnected ways to explore it without letting it take over the emotional experience of the novel, or crush it with thematic didacticism. This is A SKILL. I just love how the author creates these grounded, enormously specific stories about things like "going home and relocating my high school friend fic" or "feeling blocked in my job as a hand-letterer of bullet journals" or "trying to help my fake fiancé buy a summer camp because of our shared guilt over his brother's death" without ever sacrificing the breadth or universality of her thematic threads.
So even if, like me, you would sooner throw yourself off a pier than be anything like you were in high school... there's something intriguing here about the idea of what it means, in a broader sense, to go back. To pick a point in your life where things went down one path, and imagine what it would be like if you took another. And the truth - which I think this book understands - is that on a macro level, we can't ever really do that: go back and do life differently. Nor, necessarily, should we want to. But I loved the small moments where Georgie and Levi mess up with each other, and extend each other the grace to go back and try the interaction differently. There are all kinds of returns in this novel, large and small, but that was probably the one that meant the most to me. Even though this book depicts new love, the thematic exploration of ... iterativeness, for lack of a better word, really resonated with my experience of a longer-term relationship as well. Sometimes you have to keep going back to the same points, the same fights, the same apologies, and keep trying until you know how to progress away from them differently. And it can be really hard to extend the patience to someone to keep trying to go back. I loved how Georgie and Levi did that for each other. And I loved how "going back" felt, all at the same time, like an exploration of a familiar romance trope, a very specific story element for Georgie and Levi's narrative, and a universal consideration of what it is we're really seeking when we try to return.
(Sidebar that nobody asked for: I actually think though that, maybe, while this book starts out with time and "going back" as its major theme, it gently morphs that into being about taking up space and finding place? I know "this book is about space, not time" sounds horribly esoteric but I promise it's just so gently woven into the book that it works perfectly)
Anyway. I have already taken up too many words of this review without talking about the characterization of Georgie and Levi. Which is just... masterful. Especially, I think, in the way it interrogates the "flighty, quirky, disaster heroine" archetype with Georgie. I mean, she starts off the novel in a car full of her belongings in a trash bag, wearing quirky, wrinkly overalls, and forgetting her wallet while trying to buy strawberry smoothies- a predicament she needs to be rescued from by the hero. But as the book unfolds, the writing lends that characterization SO much depth. And, crucially, it asks readers to consider how at least part of our haste to label women as flighty is (gendered) misunderstanding and stereotype, but also how some of those same characteristics - creativity, adaptability, responsiveness to others - are in fact great strengths. I loved how Georgie's personality made her a good friend and an amazing asset at her (current and former) jobs, and how the book never, not once, lost sight of that. Also, the book is able to really clearly distinguish between how others see Georgie, how Georgie sees herself, and how the people who love her see her, and yet combine all three for a fully-realized, three-dimensional character.
I think what's going on with Levi is a bit more subtle, but no less powerful. He has a pile of romance hero stereotypes to match Georgie's: he's got a beard, he's the town hermit, he's shy, he's gruff, he's good with his hands, he's the Older Brother. A lot of this seems like very straightforward code for Romance Novel Man. But I think - as with Georgie - the author is very thoughtful in showing the reader what elements of Levi's personality are external misunderstanding and gender stereotype, and which elements merit a much more thorough grounding via backstory and exploration and understanding. Something I thought a lot about while reading is the idea I came across recently in an unrelated reading, positing that books don't belong to genres so much as they use genres. And I think that's exactly what Kate Clayborn does with Georgie and Levi: rather than trying to make them belong in genre-hero-and-heroine boxes, she uses recognizable codes of "romance novel depictions of masculinity/femininity" to create characters, but also deconstruct where those codes are coming from. Genre in Kate's work - especially the characterization - often feels like the terms of what she's working with, rather than its boundaries or its limits.
And I think part of what is so magical about these characters who come to us with so many different dimensions, is that almost every reader will find something about them to connect to. Even if neither Georgie nor Levi feel exactly like us. In my case, while I don't think I've ever really read to people as flighty, there was something very relatable in Georgie's feeling lost in her career, and her deeper worry that everyone around her knows what they want from their life but her. And Levi. Obviously I am not a beardy man with a checkered past who builds docks for a living. But I connected really deeply to the specific depiction of his shyness and introversion ... the way it's both just a part of who he is, and an outgrowth of his bone-deep fear that people will dislike him for taking up any space in their lives.
Anyway, I say this not to get overly personal but to point out that... this depth of characterization is what made the ending of this book work so well for me. Without going into detail, both Georgie and Levi go through some tough stuff at the end, and while I didn't love exactly how those hard moments were catalyzed (this is maybe my only major complaint about the book), the emotional aftermath of the low moment is done really well. And throughout it all, I kept coming back to the fact that while these characters were suffering... the book was taking so much care with them, and extending them so much grace. By giving them space to learn and grow, even in the tightly-packed pages of the final 20%. And most of all, by creating moments where both Georgie and Levi benefit from others' kindness and support, while being really compassionate about how they react in the absence of those things. And I think, precisely because these characters are so dimensional and so open to points of personal connection with the readers... reading it felt like seeing those parts of myself treated with care, as well. Which is a very special thing.
Anyway, this is a very moving, well-written, thoughtful, and lovely book, which might just make you feel a bit of much-needed care while you read. I highly, highly recommend.
Disclosure: I received an ARC from the author, with whom I am friendly on Twitter.