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The Default World
A trans woman sets out to exploit a group of wealthy roommates, only to fall under the spell of their glamorous, hedonistic lifestyle in tech-bubble San Francisco.
Years after fleeing San Francisco and getting sober, Jhanvi has made a life for herself working at a grocery co-op and saving for her surgeries. But when her friend (and sometimes more) Henry mentions that he and his techie festival-goer friends spent $100,000 to transform a warehouse basement into a sex dungeon, Jhanvi starts wondering if there’s a way to exploit these gullible idiots. She returns to San Francisco, hatching a plan to marry Henry for his company’s generous healthcare benefits.
Jhanvi enters a world of beautiful, decadent fire eaters and their lavish sex parties. But as her pretensions to cynicism and control start to fade, she develops a Gatsbyesque attraction to these happy young people and their bold claims of unconditional love. But do any of her privileged new friends really like or accept her? Her financial needs expose the limits of a community built on limitless self-expression, and soon she has to choose between doing what’s right, and doing what’s right for her.
This darkly funny novel skewers privileged leftist millennial tech culture, and asks whether "found family" is just another of the 21st-century's broken promises.
Years after fleeing San Francisco and getting sober, Jhanvi has made a life for herself working at a grocery co-op and saving for her surgeries. But when her friend (and sometimes more) Henry mentions that he and his techie festival-goer friends spent $100,000 to transform a warehouse basement into a sex dungeon, Jhanvi starts wondering if there’s a way to exploit these gullible idiots. She returns to San Francisco, hatching a plan to marry Henry for his company’s generous healthcare benefits.
Jhanvi enters a world of beautiful, decadent fire eaters and their lavish sex parties. But as her pretensions to cynicism and control start to fade, she develops a Gatsbyesque attraction to these happy young people and their bold claims of unconditional love. But do any of her privileged new friends really like or accept her? Her financial needs expose the limits of a community built on limitless self-expression, and soon she has to choose between doing what’s right, and doing what’s right for her.
This darkly funny novel skewers privileged leftist millennial tech culture, and asks whether "found family" is just another of the 21st-century's broken promises.
287 pages, Paperback
First published May 28, 2024
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December 18, 2024
Envy is the most embarrassing of the deadly sins, the one sin of seven that few would admit to, let alone identify as ruling their lives. But envy is a widespread disease: an abiding force within social media, gossip, work; often framing how a person looks at and presents themselves to the world. Kudos to this book and its author for creating a protagonist who so fully embodies envy's toxicity, in how it can dominate a person's goals and their perception of who they should or could be.
Jhanvi is a trans woman who has returned to San Francisco after a few years in Sacramento. Her mission: marry someone in the tech industry, use their workplace's healthcare benefits to pay for feminization surgeries, and then hopefully flourish in her newly updated body. A friend and fellow Stanford graduate - and a sexting buddy as well - is her first mark. And so on his doorstep she arrives, ready to convince him of her plan. Unfortunately, she hasn't reckoned with his roommates, or his own ambivalence to this project, or the distance between a goal and reality.
The book provides windows into the mind of an independent lady desperate to upgrade her life and into the world of wealthy young tech workers, idealistic and performative and superficial beyond belief, with money to burn on the most insubstantial of ideas. These techies are at first incredibly easy to mock; sardonic Jhanvi is just as easy to root for. At first. Slowly, my allegiances began to realign... these pretty idiots may be laughable, but Jhanvi herself is revealed to be just as unappealing. Perhaps even more so. Her mission and her envy consume her. Her new, rather unwilling roommates are operating from an embarrassing combination of social justice-induced liberal guilt and starry-eyed sex-positivity, but Jhanvi is coming from a place of almost complete self-absorption and a near-total disdain for the inner lives within nearly everyone inside of her orbit. A shallow techie still deserves agency and still needs understanding, despite their shallowness; a broke and lonely trans woman can still be monstrous, a grifting manipulator, despite how genuinely sympathetic her cause may be. It can be a challenge to root for anyone who thinks the world revolves entirely around them and their needs.
I was impressed with how ugly Naomi Kanakia was willing to make Jhanvi; she's so understandable and yet so completely awful at times. My God, the vicious things she thinks about the people she is trying to grift. This is a brave, highly intelligent iconoclast who has redefined herself in an unfriendly world; this is also an often thoughtless liar who has carelessly abandoned her supportive Sacramento community in order to manipulate a social circle that isn't her own. And yet I continued to root for her; I love an arrogant underdog. I appreciated the dark night of the soul (and body) that the author gives her, during one extended and grueling sequence. From which Jhanvi returns unbroken and even more determined. She may be a villainous person in so many ways, but she remains the heroine of this book, never the villain. There are no villains in The Default World.
Kanakia also scores numerous points in other directions: the way race and outsider status can be weaponized, used to guilt-trip; the marshmallow-like traits of certain well-meaning, tediously passive men who find it impossible to say the word "no"; my least favorite privilege, Pretty Privilege; the unspoken disqualifying rules at sex parties; the mindless group-think of some progressives. I particularly enjoyed the novel's take on how identity is often formed in opposition to other identities; how an in-group is often defined by how it is different from the out-group. Jhanvi sees her new tech friends as the default world that she yearns to enter; those friends define themselves as outside the default world of conformist normies.
The story reminded me of the decade in my life that started in the mid 90s, living with a bunch of friends in a wholesome anarchist collective that gradually turned into a loathsome hipster party house. So many people, so much performative grandstanding; visions of how to build a better society; rejection of the mainstream, of normies. The drugs the sex the music the parties, the random interlopers, the fun. Of course, there were many differences between my scene and the scene within this book (just as San Francisco then is so different from San Francisco now): although about the same age, my friends were struggling punks and broke activists, not overpaid and overworked technocrats; my deadly sin as a grouchy outsider with a 9-to-5 job wasn't Envy, it was Wrath. That said, the many similarities between this world and my old world were haunting. Both worlds decidedly rejected the default world, yet lived in it still.
Jhanvi is a trans woman who has returned to San Francisco after a few years in Sacramento. Her mission: marry someone in the tech industry, use their workplace's healthcare benefits to pay for feminization surgeries, and then hopefully flourish in her newly updated body. A friend and fellow Stanford graduate - and a sexting buddy as well - is her first mark. And so on his doorstep she arrives, ready to convince him of her plan. Unfortunately, she hasn't reckoned with his roommates, or his own ambivalence to this project, or the distance between a goal and reality.
The book provides windows into the mind of an independent lady desperate to upgrade her life and into the world of wealthy young tech workers, idealistic and performative and superficial beyond belief, with money to burn on the most insubstantial of ideas. These techies are at first incredibly easy to mock; sardonic Jhanvi is just as easy to root for. At first. Slowly, my allegiances began to realign... these pretty idiots may be laughable, but Jhanvi herself is revealed to be just as unappealing. Perhaps even more so. Her mission and her envy consume her. Her new, rather unwilling roommates are operating from an embarrassing combination of social justice-induced liberal guilt and starry-eyed sex-positivity, but Jhanvi is coming from a place of almost complete self-absorption and a near-total disdain for the inner lives within nearly everyone inside of her orbit. A shallow techie still deserves agency and still needs understanding, despite their shallowness; a broke and lonely trans woman can still be monstrous, a grifting manipulator, despite how genuinely sympathetic her cause may be. It can be a challenge to root for anyone who thinks the world revolves entirely around them and their needs.
I was impressed with how ugly Naomi Kanakia was willing to make Jhanvi; she's so understandable and yet so completely awful at times. My God, the vicious things she thinks about the people she is trying to grift. This is a brave, highly intelligent iconoclast who has redefined herself in an unfriendly world; this is also an often thoughtless liar who has carelessly abandoned her supportive Sacramento community in order to manipulate a social circle that isn't her own. And yet I continued to root for her; I love an arrogant underdog. I appreciated the dark night of the soul (and body) that the author gives her, during one extended and grueling sequence. From which Jhanvi returns unbroken and even more determined. She may be a villainous person in so many ways, but she remains the heroine of this book, never the villain. There are no villains in The Default World.
Kanakia also scores numerous points in other directions: the way race and outsider status can be weaponized, used to guilt-trip; the marshmallow-like traits of certain well-meaning, tediously passive men who find it impossible to say the word "no"; my least favorite privilege, Pretty Privilege; the unspoken disqualifying rules at sex parties; the mindless group-think of some progressives. I particularly enjoyed the novel's take on how identity is often formed in opposition to other identities; how an in-group is often defined by how it is different from the out-group. Jhanvi sees her new tech friends as the default world that she yearns to enter; those friends define themselves as outside the default world of conformist normies.
The story reminded me of the decade in my life that started in the mid 90s, living with a bunch of friends in a wholesome anarchist collective that gradually turned into a loathsome hipster party house. So many people, so much performative grandstanding; visions of how to build a better society; rejection of the mainstream, of normies. The drugs the sex the music the parties, the random interlopers, the fun. Of course, there were many differences between my scene and the scene within this book (just as San Francisco then is so different from San Francisco now): although about the same age, my friends were struggling punks and broke activists, not overpaid and overworked technocrats; my deadly sin as a grouchy outsider with a 9-to-5 job wasn't Envy, it was Wrath. That said, the many similarities between this world and my old world were haunting. Both worlds decidedly rejected the default world, yet lived in it still.
April 17, 2025
This bitter but enjoyable novel calls to mind the Ben Jonson plays I was reading last month. A kind of contemporary trans Bartholomew Fair. Caustic satire, with a strong moral compass drawn entirely in the negative, apparent only in what’s missing. Like Jonson, Kanakia delights in hypocrisy. Like Jonson, some people are scammers, some scammed, and some just along for the ride—but how to figure out who’s who?
The Default World is about a down-on-her-luck (ish) trans woman, Jhanvi, who hatches a plot to convince Henry, an old college friend-cum-sexting buddy, to marry her (a plan that puts her on a collision course with Henry’s beautiful cis roommates Audrey and Katie). She gets his generous tech company trans health benefits; he gets to assuage his white guilt. A scheme giving guilt trip, long con, sex work.
I didn’t find The Default World as grim as some reviews here make it sound, but the toxic combination of performative sex and self-loathing did get exhausting. The entire plot relies on the personal magnetism, beauty, and allure of the main characters—Audrey and Katie most obviously, but also Henry and Jhanvi herself—but we don’t feel it like we could. Ironically, Jhanvi’s magnetism comes through the clearest, despite her absolute refusal to see it. It’s obvious in the way she threatens Audrey and Katie, the way she both attracts and repels Henry. (Just in case there were any doubt, Kanakia opens the novel with Jhanvi walking into a bar and being immediately idolized by a stranger.)
Kanakia’s direct style is well suited to her story. It goes wonderfully against the grain of contemporary literary culture, which is nothing if not performatively flowery. More importantly, Jhanvi, for all her supposed certainty about human nature, is deeply unreliable, which the clarity of her voice sets off beautifully. But this style, it tells us Jhanvi wishes she could be like Audrey and Katie, have what Audrey and Katie have—but it doesn’t make us want to be Audrey and Katie ourselves. We recognize, rather than feel, the envy and longing that drive the plot. And I, silly queer boy that I am, most certainly do dream the impossible dream of being an Audrey or a Katie—however much I know better (however much the contradictions of their actions and self-image are literally tearing them apart from the inside), so if it doesn’t work on me...
Ben Jonson viscerally delights in what he condemns—does so, basically, through sheer force of linguistic invention. Kanakia comes closest to that glee in some of her characters’ conversations—you get the sense that these people love to talk, not so much because they love the sound of their own voices, but because they recognize the power words give them to shape reality. Or because they think if they could just name the thing, name the unnameable, then they could control it (the uncontrollable). Still, I feel like the novel is missing a certain playfulness—flirtatiousness, voyeurism, sensationalism, camp, something.
I hope Kanakia keeps developing the style and themes she explores here, because despite the novel’s shortcomings, it feels like she’s working in an important direction. The Default World offers a fascinating counterpoint to some of the other contemporary trans writers I’ve read this year—to Torrey Peter’s late-Shakespearean genderfucked winter’s tale Stag Dance. To the pain and confidence and absurdity that make Jeanne Thornton’s Summer Fun so irresistible (Beaumont and Fletcher, maybe?). Summer Fun and The Default World are totally different in every way and yet somehow feel like second cousins. In other words, if trans literature is a thing, than this feels like an important part of it.
The Default World also offers a wonderful counterpoint to our literary culture more generally. Katie and Audrey feel like they walked off the pages of an acclaimed contemporary lit fic novel about sad rich white girls, took a wrong turn, and slammed face-first into reality. Not in a mean way—more in a spirit of: What is our literary culture hiding?
It’s not exactly the most fun I’ve had reading a novel this year, but it’s not not fun either, and I didn’t for a moment regret picking this up.
The Default World is about a down-on-her-luck (ish) trans woman, Jhanvi, who hatches a plot to convince Henry, an old college friend-cum-sexting buddy, to marry her (a plan that puts her on a collision course with Henry’s beautiful cis roommates Audrey and Katie). She gets his generous tech company trans health benefits; he gets to assuage his white guilt. A scheme giving guilt trip, long con, sex work.
I didn’t find The Default World as grim as some reviews here make it sound, but the toxic combination of performative sex and self-loathing did get exhausting. The entire plot relies on the personal magnetism, beauty, and allure of the main characters—Audrey and Katie most obviously, but also Henry and Jhanvi herself—but we don’t feel it like we could. Ironically, Jhanvi’s magnetism comes through the clearest, despite her absolute refusal to see it. It’s obvious in the way she threatens Audrey and Katie, the way she both attracts and repels Henry. (Just in case there were any doubt, Kanakia opens the novel with Jhanvi walking into a bar and being immediately idolized by a stranger.)
Kanakia’s direct style is well suited to her story. It goes wonderfully against the grain of contemporary literary culture, which is nothing if not performatively flowery. More importantly, Jhanvi, for all her supposed certainty about human nature, is deeply unreliable, which the clarity of her voice sets off beautifully. But this style, it tells us Jhanvi wishes she could be like Audrey and Katie, have what Audrey and Katie have—but it doesn’t make us want to be Audrey and Katie ourselves. We recognize, rather than feel, the envy and longing that drive the plot. And I, silly queer boy that I am, most certainly do dream the impossible dream of being an Audrey or a Katie—however much I know better (however much the contradictions of their actions and self-image are literally tearing them apart from the inside), so if it doesn’t work on me...
Ben Jonson viscerally delights in what he condemns—does so, basically, through sheer force of linguistic invention. Kanakia comes closest to that glee in some of her characters’ conversations—you get the sense that these people love to talk, not so much because they love the sound of their own voices, but because they recognize the power words give them to shape reality. Or because they think if they could just name the thing, name the unnameable, then they could control it (the uncontrollable). Still, I feel like the novel is missing a certain playfulness—flirtatiousness, voyeurism, sensationalism, camp, something.
I hope Kanakia keeps developing the style and themes she explores here, because despite the novel’s shortcomings, it feels like she’s working in an important direction. The Default World offers a fascinating counterpoint to some of the other contemporary trans writers I’ve read this year—to Torrey Peter’s late-Shakespearean genderfucked winter’s tale Stag Dance. To the pain and confidence and absurdity that make Jeanne Thornton’s Summer Fun so irresistible (Beaumont and Fletcher, maybe?). Summer Fun and The Default World are totally different in every way and yet somehow feel like second cousins. In other words, if trans literature is a thing, than this feels like an important part of it.
The Default World also offers a wonderful counterpoint to our literary culture more generally. Katie and Audrey feel like they walked off the pages of an acclaimed contemporary lit fic novel about sad rich white girls, took a wrong turn, and slammed face-first into reality. Not in a mean way—more in a spirit of: What is our literary culture hiding?
It’s not exactly the most fun I’ve had reading a novel this year, but it’s not not fun either, and I didn’t for a moment regret picking this up.
December 19, 2024
THE DEFAULT WORLD is what the characters of Naomi Kanakia’s novel call the state of mind where normalos live. The people still chained to heterosexuality, monogamy, to The Family Unit—but not them. They are enlightened, rich, beautiful, sexy, they fuck who they want and when they want, they use drugs heavily while maintaining cushy high paying positions and are aware of community and of the needs of the disenfranchised and are working to build a better life, beyond the trite and transactional mores of the default world.
AKA, the average group of selfsuck rich Instagram hippies and the couple women of color who are getting used by them and using them, as they employ therapy and social justice speak to tap into endless glaciers of frozen white guilt and cognitive dissonance.
I love reading about sex, because that’s where all these layers get stripped off, and we see under the mille-feuille of money, power, c u l t u r e, the bunch of lil ants scurrying around, all mad they’re not getting fucked or angling to get into a position to get fucked. This is stuff I think about (for better or for worse) too often, and Kanakia's book addresses it 1000x more honestly than most lit dares.
When TERFs thrash and squeal about trans women being vapid beings obsessed with their appearance—I’ve never met a person, of any gender trans or cis, who didn't want to be hot. Whether someone is hot and reaping the benefits of being someone’s Muse / being the keeper of a Muse, or not, and are using the fumes of their bitterness and FOMO to create something new—or somewhere in between and doing the best they can—or guilting someone subtly for NOT finding them hot, because we're adults and humans and evolved and smart and should stop the silly flesh-obsessed nonsense—these are the currents of air powering our entire stupid little civilization, and I find that beyond fascinating.
Acknowledging that though—acknowledging how much it hurts when we’re ugly and how much degradation we’ll endure from someone who isn’t—how much we’re willing to give up to feel like a Muse or a Desirable Being, or worthy of one, even for a moment—is too much psychic humiliation for the average person to bear. We've gone to the fucking MOON! We have the entirety of human knowledge contained in slivers of plastic, in our pockets! We should be better than this!!! More evolved than this! Surprise. We're not. Maybe we never will be?
So this book cuts through the myriad layers of spiderwebbing each of us weave around our fragile egos, and examines how proximity to the fulcrum of the Default World (white cis het skinny pretty rich abled etc) affects just how exactly we play our own Magic deck of self-lies.
I’m cautious with the ‘pathetic self-hating trans person who has absolutely no game’ because it’s just so overdone and dreary, but goddamn, Kanakia hits it out of the park, because she’s willing to go THAT far. Second-hand shame? This book got me feeling third and even fourth-hand levels of shame I was not even sure are possible.
I am also cautious about superimposing the MC onto the author, but it really made me wonder—the naked, vulnerable on/off currents Jhanvi had alternating yearning, fascination and absolute contempt for her white housemates. The insistence of describing herself as a monster, a rock ‘bleeding manhood,’ and the other brown woman, Roshi—described as hairy, blocky, domineering, pathetically willing to pay anything to be in the proximity of White ‘’’’’Perfection,’’’’’’’ while she cursed them and pushed their social justice guilt buttons out loud. [Another fascinating facet of something I think of often: how much the motivation to be seen as part of a certain group or accepted by a certain group, the need to worm as close as possible to a Social Ideal, can fuel a certain personality). Because obviously, not every not-default person wants or needs to be the default. But some really really really really do.
It's not pretty, it's not noble, but Jhanvi makes it clear: as contemptible as she finds her skinny white housemates, she would dropkick 2000 kittens to experience inhabiting a Taylor Swift body for 20 minutes.
Jhanvi is terrible. She is entitled. She sucks. But she's still a person who needs the approval of others to feel whole, because we all do, so now she's taking the most extreme route to find her happiness. I guess a little bit of the brilliance of Kanakia's writing was that she managed to make that make sense to me.
AKA, the average group of selfsuck rich Instagram hippies and the couple women of color who are getting used by them and using them, as they employ therapy and social justice speak to tap into endless glaciers of frozen white guilt and cognitive dissonance.
I love reading about sex, because that’s where all these layers get stripped off, and we see under the mille-feuille of money, power, c u l t u r e, the bunch of lil ants scurrying around, all mad they’re not getting fucked or angling to get into a position to get fucked. This is stuff I think about (for better or for worse) too often, and Kanakia's book addresses it 1000x more honestly than most lit dares.
When TERFs thrash and squeal about trans women being vapid beings obsessed with their appearance—I’ve never met a person, of any gender trans or cis, who didn't want to be hot. Whether someone is hot and reaping the benefits of being someone’s Muse / being the keeper of a Muse, or not, and are using the fumes of their bitterness and FOMO to create something new—or somewhere in between and doing the best they can—or guilting someone subtly for NOT finding them hot, because we're adults and humans and evolved and smart and should stop the silly flesh-obsessed nonsense—these are the currents of air powering our entire stupid little civilization, and I find that beyond fascinating.
Acknowledging that though—acknowledging how much it hurts when we’re ugly and how much degradation we’ll endure from someone who isn’t—how much we’re willing to give up to feel like a Muse or a Desirable Being, or worthy of one, even for a moment—is too much psychic humiliation for the average person to bear. We've gone to the fucking MOON! We have the entirety of human knowledge contained in slivers of plastic, in our pockets! We should be better than this!!! More evolved than this! Surprise. We're not. Maybe we never will be?
So this book cuts through the myriad layers of spiderwebbing each of us weave around our fragile egos, and examines how proximity to the fulcrum of the Default World (white cis het skinny pretty rich abled etc) affects just how exactly we play our own Magic deck of self-lies.
I’m cautious with the ‘pathetic self-hating trans person who has absolutely no game’ because it’s just so overdone and dreary, but goddamn, Kanakia hits it out of the park, because she’s willing to go THAT far. Second-hand shame? This book got me feeling third and even fourth-hand levels of shame I was not even sure are possible.
I am also cautious about superimposing the MC onto the author, but it really made me wonder—the naked, vulnerable on/off currents Jhanvi had alternating yearning, fascination and absolute contempt for her white housemates. The insistence of describing herself as a monster, a rock ‘bleeding manhood,’ and the other brown woman, Roshi—described as hairy, blocky, domineering, pathetically willing to pay anything to be in the proximity of White ‘’’’’Perfection,’’’’’’’ while she cursed them and pushed their social justice guilt buttons out loud. [Another fascinating facet of something I think of often: how much the motivation to be seen as part of a certain group or accepted by a certain group, the need to worm as close as possible to a Social Ideal, can fuel a certain personality). Because obviously, not every not-default person wants or needs to be the default. But some really really really really do.
It's not pretty, it's not noble, but Jhanvi makes it clear: as contemptible as she finds her skinny white housemates, she would dropkick 2000 kittens to experience inhabiting a Taylor Swift body for 20 minutes.
Jhanvi is terrible. She is entitled. She sucks. But she's still a person who needs the approval of others to feel whole, because we all do, so now she's taking the most extreme route to find her happiness. I guess a little bit of the brilliance of Kanakia's writing was that she managed to make that make sense to me.
July 15, 2024
quite an off-putting book with extremely unlikeable and flawed characters. i found myself a little lost on and confused by the culture of the community described in this book so it was a bit jarring at times
what i liked was there’s a ton of examination and criticism of performative wokeness here in between the lines. it ends with a sort of acceptance of the ugly, self-serving, and transactional nature of relationships and humanhood. being completely morally altruistic isn’t realistic and also isn’t possible in a capitalist society anyway :,/
what i liked was there’s a ton of examination and criticism of performative wokeness here in between the lines. it ends with a sort of acceptance of the ugly, self-serving, and transactional nature of relationships and humanhood. being completely morally altruistic isn’t realistic and also isn’t possible in a capitalist society anyway :,/
August 3, 2025
naomi kanakia thank u once again for writing unlikeable and fucked up and objectively morally bankrupt indian girls 🙏
June 28, 2024
Sock wants to know why you're weaponizing your neurotypical privilege by asking them to do the dishes
May 16, 2024
x-posting my storygraph review to help the author
My bookstore had this before the release date!
This is a book with layers. I could see them working together, I felt how the book was working, but it was also deceptively simple. The prose is straightforward and the plot is a bit ridiculous. This was a book I could feel bursting at the seams with ambition, that was mostly successful but messy at the edges. Personally, I like a book like that.
Jhanvi is trans but stuck in a dead end life. She has always been a misfit and is very angry with how the world treats her - not only as a non-passing, ugly trans woman but also as a socially inept person who can’t fit in anywhere. The book is filled with longing - for connection, femininity, recognition of potential, mutually fulfilling sexuality, beauty. The depth of the anger and self-loathing around these topics surprised me in a good way - it felt honest and true, in a way “representation lit” rarely allows itself to be.
This cast of characters… oh man. For an honest skewering of white progressives read this. But also Jhanvi is working out her own role in this space. Is she oppressed? Oppressing? Manipulating? Being honest and demanding respect? Getting what she’s owed? Using her identity as cover to be an asshole? The book offers no answers. All the characters suck but are also filled with those moments of compassion and charisma and intention and just like Jhanvi does you end up kind of loving them despite themselves.
This book is very preoccupied with community and ties or duties to each other. What does blood family do that friends don’t? How does gatekeeping actually function? What is the role of envy? Control? And how do these features of human life interact with lefty politics of the privileged Bay Area variety? The book is both totally scathing and also admiring somehow. It asks seriously: who is this for, and if we believe in humanism, in helping everyone live their best life, who is this for?
This is already super long, so I’ll say I really enjoyed the process of writing this review. It’s making me pull out the themes in a more coherent way. This book reads super fast (esp for a ‘literary’ novel) and you don’t really notice all of this as you go… though I will warn the tone can be pretty caustic.
My bookstore had this before the release date!
This is a book with layers. I could see them working together, I felt how the book was working, but it was also deceptively simple. The prose is straightforward and the plot is a bit ridiculous. This was a book I could feel bursting at the seams with ambition, that was mostly successful but messy at the edges. Personally, I like a book like that.
Jhanvi is trans but stuck in a dead end life. She has always been a misfit and is very angry with how the world treats her - not only as a non-passing, ugly trans woman but also as a socially inept person who can’t fit in anywhere. The book is filled with longing - for connection, femininity, recognition of potential, mutually fulfilling sexuality, beauty. The depth of the anger and self-loathing around these topics surprised me in a good way - it felt honest and true, in a way “representation lit” rarely allows itself to be.
This cast of characters… oh man. For an honest skewering of white progressives read this. But also Jhanvi is working out her own role in this space. Is she oppressed? Oppressing? Manipulating? Being honest and demanding respect? Getting what she’s owed? Using her identity as cover to be an asshole? The book offers no answers. All the characters suck but are also filled with those moments of compassion and charisma and intention and just like Jhanvi does you end up kind of loving them despite themselves.
This book is very preoccupied with community and ties or duties to each other. What does blood family do that friends don’t? How does gatekeeping actually function? What is the role of envy? Control? And how do these features of human life interact with lefty politics of the privileged Bay Area variety? The book is both totally scathing and also admiring somehow. It asks seriously: who is this for, and if we believe in humanism, in helping everyone live their best life, who is this for?
This is already super long, so I’ll say I really enjoyed the process of writing this review. It’s making me pull out the themes in a more coherent way. This book reads super fast (esp for a ‘literary’ novel) and you don’t really notice all of this as you go… though I will warn the tone can be pretty caustic.
July 16, 2024
hmmmm
this book had some interesting touch points, but mostly was off-putting and did not build on the characters / their community in a way that was easily understood
rt Talia's review (we read it together out loud to one another lmao) :
"what i liked was there’s a ton of examination and criticism of performative wokeness here in between the lines. it ends with a sort of acceptance of the ugly, self-serving, and transactional nature of relationships and humanhood. being completely morally altruistic isn’t realistic and also isn’t possible in a capitalist society anyway :,/"
this book had some interesting touch points, but mostly was off-putting and did not build on the characters / their community in a way that was easily understood
rt Talia's review (we read it together out loud to one another lmao) :
"what i liked was there’s a ton of examination and criticism of performative wokeness here in between the lines. it ends with a sort of acceptance of the ugly, self-serving, and transactional nature of relationships and humanhood. being completely morally altruistic isn’t realistic and also isn’t possible in a capitalist society anyway :,/"
May 31, 2024
couldn't put it down!
Naomi Kanakia boldly explores the inner world of her protagonist, Jhanvi, just like it is, no holding back. Jhanvi expresses the thoughts and feelings we've all had, but that are either too complex or too socially risky for most of us to put in words. The book is fast-paced, the dialogue on point, and the characters are both a critique and celebration of a certain alternative subculture that really does exist in the Bay Area (think Burning Man, polyamory, cooperative living, etc). I felt like I've met and known all of the characters in real life!!
I would also describe this as a coming of age novel for adults (VERY much for adults).
Loved it, and hope Naomi puts out more work in this style... maybe even a prequel or sequel?
Naomi Kanakia boldly explores the inner world of her protagonist, Jhanvi, just like it is, no holding back. Jhanvi expresses the thoughts and feelings we've all had, but that are either too complex or too socially risky for most of us to put in words. The book is fast-paced, the dialogue on point, and the characters are both a critique and celebration of a certain alternative subculture that really does exist in the Bay Area (think Burning Man, polyamory, cooperative living, etc). I felt like I've met and known all of the characters in real life!!
I would also describe this as a coming of age novel for adults (VERY much for adults).
Loved it, and hope Naomi puts out more work in this style... maybe even a prequel or sequel?
March 7, 2025
This was pure chaos in the worst way. I read this for book club and I’ll be honest and confess I skimmed most of the last half because the gratuitous sex, threats of violence and the self hatred from the main character got to be too much.
I will say the imperfection of a trans woman of color could have been refreshing if there was some redeeming quality about the overarching story. Often we’re shown examples of marginalized people who are better than everyone around then and still given less. This almost had that (cue the entire horrible terrible cast who pretty consistently took advantage of snd mistreated Jhanvi) but then we’re left with Jhanvi who is herself morally bankrupt and selfish. I appreciated her awareness of her self destructive tendencies because that felt true to the cycle of addiction. But everything else was just… disappointing.
I wish I even had the words to describe how to make this better but I can’t even do that. There was promise but I am not a fan of reading a book based on the strength of its unrealized potential. I would not recommend and cannot say enough that in my opinion this was just not a good read.
“The nice thing about being a con woman, a scoundrel, an adventurer, is that you need not ask for permission. I will die before I ask again for someone to love as I am.”
I will say the imperfection of a trans woman of color could have been refreshing if there was some redeeming quality about the overarching story. Often we’re shown examples of marginalized people who are better than everyone around then and still given less. This almost had that (cue the entire horrible terrible cast who pretty consistently took advantage of snd mistreated Jhanvi) but then we’re left with Jhanvi who is herself morally bankrupt and selfish. I appreciated her awareness of her self destructive tendencies because that felt true to the cycle of addiction. But everything else was just… disappointing.
I wish I even had the words to describe how to make this better but I can’t even do that. There was promise but I am not a fan of reading a book based on the strength of its unrealized potential. I would not recommend and cannot say enough that in my opinion this was just not a good read.
“The nice thing about being a con woman, a scoundrel, an adventurer, is that you need not ask for permission. I will die before I ask again for someone to love as I am.”
March 26, 2025
Everyone in this book is a terrible, miserable, pathetic person in their own special way, and not in an entertaining way. More like an “oh Jesus fuck, another Twitter thread about inane queer bullshit” that makes me wish I did not understand the English language.
October 23, 2025
disappointed :/ maybe 1.5 stars idk. i just felt like there was so much potential. I think the premise is awesome, trans girl inserts herself into yuppie tech rich life to marry them and take their trans benefits, like goated idea. but Jhanvi was so annoying, she had no character or personality. she was flip flopping all over the place. she liked the people, she hated them, she admired them, she wanted to control them, she looked down on them, she felt included, she felt distant, she liked being a trans outcast, she wanted to be cis, she needed this marriage to survive, she couldn't care less. So philosophical and so much self pity for a situation she was choosing to put herself in. Like girl just leave. Roshie was also a confusing character, they honestly all were. like i dont know if that was the point but i couldnt pin anyone down. they all annoyed me, honestly that whole group displayed rich entitled liberals so well. "open" to beautiful skinny white/light skinned cis sexual people. such a common theme we see in so many democrat spaces. therapy speak has ruined us all. and the whole book being about one event that was literally shut down and then the reader not knowing if the marriage happened. it just felt pointless
Quotes:
- ' Was he a trans man who was partway there, or a trans woman who'd barely begun? "I'm Tony," he said. Or was it Toni? '
- ' Maybe she'd just smash open Henry's window with a rock and crawl in. His roommates were all prison and police abolitionists-what were they gonna do, call the cops? '
- ' "Oh, well, we should talk. Katie is really serious about us being anti-police. We've had a lot of meetings about it. That's been really hard on her." "What's been hard? The existence of police?" "Yeah. And the incarceration state. Racism. Injustice, people not getting it. Being selfish, making San Francisco unlivable. We're all really trying to be the solution and not the problem." What a crazy bitch.
Quotes:
- ' Was he a trans man who was partway there, or a trans woman who'd barely begun? "I'm Tony," he said. Or was it Toni? '
- ' Maybe she'd just smash open Henry's window with a rock and crawl in. His roommates were all prison and police abolitionists-what were they gonna do, call the cops? '
- ' "Oh, well, we should talk. Katie is really serious about us being anti-police. We've had a lot of meetings about it. That's been really hard on her." "What's been hard? The existence of police?" "Yeah. And the incarceration state. Racism. Injustice, people not getting it. Being selfish, making San Francisco unlivable. We're all really trying to be the solution and not the problem." What a crazy bitch.
Read
September 26, 2025i have complicated feelings about this book. on one hand it's such a masterful piece of writing that tackles transness and desirability politics so deftly yet manages to "transcend," as cis reviewers like to say, its status as trans litfic and capture a certain humanity; that emotion we've all felt at some point in our lives, some drastically more than others: unwanted & fallible. and on the other hand, i understood 50% of what was going on at any given point. and that's not my only issue with this.
i really enjoyed the wit of the heroine and the scope of her internal monologue. i enjoy novels where the author sorts of veers of the path to delve into the special interests of their main characters; more of that please !! the vitriol and overwhelming hurt and pain the heroine feels for most of this novel makes this painful to read, especially for someone with her own anger and hurt to deal w/, but i was there for the tirades even when i didn't particularly understand what was going on !!
and now onto my major issues with this: the heroine herself. jhanvi is a morally complex character, and i don't particularly like her. some of her post-radical takes circle right back to the status quo, and you can't help but get frustrated with her insistence to stay around people who repeatedly make her hurt. she, of course, recognizes this; but there's a limit to which one can be self-aware, or rather there's a point at which self-awareness will stop redeeming your sins. her idolization of white supremacist beauty standards and how that ties into her self-loathing is relatable, and real, but i feel like at a certain point you have to pull yourself out of that. if not for yourself, then for other desirably marginalized people. self-image is inextricably linked to how we perceive others, which is why i find it ridiculous when they attach a personal negative value to something but say they're fine with others participating in that thing.
jhanvi's lack of commitment to liberation and overt western selfishness were particularly disappointing. i'm not saying i think anyone who doesn't have some radical leftist affiliation is amoral, but there's a baseline... hope, or more realistically lack of fatalism, that i think is necessary for me to personally enjoy someone's company. i am but a fledgling in this subject, but if you think everything's doomed and all we can do is steal a piece of the blood-soaked pie for ourselves, well... idk. we prob won't vibe. maybe i'm just young, and maybe i'm mistaking justified personal pessimism for general nihilism; i did understand but 60% of the book after all.
i really enjoyed the wit of the heroine and the scope of her internal monologue. i enjoy novels where the author sorts of veers of the path to delve into the special interests of their main characters; more of that please !! the vitriol and overwhelming hurt and pain the heroine feels for most of this novel makes this painful to read, especially for someone with her own anger and hurt to deal w/, but i was there for the tirades even when i didn't particularly understand what was going on !!
and now onto my major issues with this: the heroine herself. jhanvi is a morally complex character, and i don't particularly like her. some of her post-radical takes circle right back to the status quo, and you can't help but get frustrated with her insistence to stay around people who repeatedly make her hurt. she, of course, recognizes this; but there's a limit to which one can be self-aware, or rather there's a point at which self-awareness will stop redeeming your sins. her idolization of white supremacist beauty standards and how that ties into her self-loathing is relatable, and real, but i feel like at a certain point you have to pull yourself out of that. if not for yourself, then for other desirably marginalized people. self-image is inextricably linked to how we perceive others, which is why i find it ridiculous when they attach a personal negative value to something but say they're fine with others participating in that thing.
jhanvi's lack of commitment to liberation and overt western selfishness were particularly disappointing. i'm not saying i think anyone who doesn't have some radical leftist affiliation is amoral, but there's a baseline... hope, or more realistically lack of fatalism, that i think is necessary for me to personally enjoy someone's company. i am but a fledgling in this subject, but if you think everything's doomed and all we can do is steal a piece of the blood-soaked pie for ourselves, well... idk. we prob won't vibe. maybe i'm just young, and maybe i'm mistaking justified personal pessimism for general nihilism; i did understand but 60% of the book after all.
August 16, 2024
I am too much a softie to fully enjoy novels where every character is so unlikable in their own special way— especially when IT’S ALL SO REALISTIC. By that same token, I can appreciate what the author was doing here and that she did it very well: having the correct politics on paper doesn’t make you ‘good,’ and more importantly, neither does being oppressed— but, maybe, caring about others does make you better. I appreciate how hopeful the ending was, even if it felt a little pat after all the cynicism.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 11, 2024
Yum! I ate this up, as I thought I would — a transfemme Indian adventuring in a San Francisco polyam sex co-op? Does not surprise me that I read it all in one sitting.
Some of my thoughts still feel scattered but I’m thinking a lot about self-hatred. What a sad and incisive internal monologue of our worries about our own monstrosity (which, maybe, connect in some ways all of us who do not fit into skinny white cis womanhood, although with different material impacts). It’s also funny … I spend so much of my time right now bemoaning romantic notions of chosen family but seeing Jhanvi mock friendship, and articulate so many of my cynicisms and anxieties, made me want to reject it! The community we want does not exist, but we can get there (with a total re-ordering of the world). I believe!
Everybody was a performance of themselves, but maybe in some of these spaces, that’s kind of accurate? Jhanvi annoyed me so much, probably because I both saw myself in her and in the people she found so annoying. I found the ending a little dissatisfying, wrapping it up a little too pretty — maybe because in the end I just always felt bad for Roshie. I want her to have better friends! I could go on about family abolition and the like but I think Jhanvi is ultimately right … this isn’t a group of people trying to organize toward a revolutionary restructuring of the nuclear family, it’s rich white people trying to throw sex parties cause they think it’s fun!
Sometimes in these books where everybody is pretty irritating, the dialogue feels very wooden to me. I thought it was pretty good here: engrossing, even if a tad on the nose (although, maybe that’s part of the point). In all, I liked the pacing, and have much to mull over. Definitely will recommend! Snarky trans romps for the win!
Some of my thoughts still feel scattered but I’m thinking a lot about self-hatred. What a sad and incisive internal monologue of our worries about our own monstrosity (which, maybe, connect in some ways all of us who do not fit into skinny white cis womanhood, although with different material impacts). It’s also funny … I spend so much of my time right now bemoaning romantic notions of chosen family but seeing Jhanvi mock friendship, and articulate so many of my cynicisms and anxieties, made me want to reject it! The community we want does not exist, but we can get there (with a total re-ordering of the world). I believe!
Everybody was a performance of themselves, but maybe in some of these spaces, that’s kind of accurate? Jhanvi annoyed me so much, probably because I both saw myself in her and in the people she found so annoying. I found the ending a little dissatisfying, wrapping it up a little too pretty — maybe because in the end I just always felt bad for Roshie. I want her to have better friends! I could go on about family abolition and the like but I think Jhanvi is ultimately right … this isn’t a group of people trying to organize toward a revolutionary restructuring of the nuclear family, it’s rich white people trying to throw sex parties cause they think it’s fun!
Sometimes in these books where everybody is pretty irritating, the dialogue feels very wooden to me. I thought it was pretty good here: engrossing, even if a tad on the nose (although, maybe that’s part of the point). In all, I liked the pacing, and have much to mull over. Definitely will recommend! Snarky trans romps for the win!
February 12, 2026
This reminded me of Yellowface in that you really have to make peace with the main character not being particularly likeable. Jhanvi is self-centered and determined to get what she wants no matter who she hurts along the way, because she feels like the world owes her. Yet you grow to feel for her by the end of the story, despite her flaws.
June 12, 2024
3.5⭐️
August 22, 2024
can’t wait to recommend this to everyone i know. i love a complex unlikeable protagonist surrounded by more unlikeable people! makes for the most interesting and revelatory writing imo
August 27, 2025
Didn’t get to the end. I like how cynical this book is—it’s fun. But this felt like reading the text from a visual no el with no imagery. Just badly written. And, frankly, the stuff about performative wokeness felt obvious, and, as a trans person, not new whatsoever. Maybe this could be a book for cis people, except for the fact that the author feels the need to include descriptions of the secondary sexual characteristics of each woman, seemingly every time we see them. Overall, I think this is quite weak.
July 9, 2024
Raw and at times brutal in its grotesque descriptions and honest writing, at times I wanted to look away from the story and give up, and yet I still found myself swallowing down every chapter that left me with a bitter aftertaste when I finally finished.
The story had a rocky start for me, and I didn’t start truly stop tabbing every single moment of awkward writing or excess dialogue until the second half of the story. At some point between Jhanvi’s spiraling out, and Henry being a flaccid man, I just couldn’t look away. That could partially be contributed to the fact my power is still out because of Hurricane Beryl. I am at a loss for entertainment now. (Fuck you, weather)
I did enjoy the descriptions, they had my stomach twisting, masterfully so.
“…but she plunged onward, blindly, licking and slobbering, running her tongue and throat over it as he moaned….”
“Her wooden dick sawed mechanically into and out of him…”
“…with her hairy skin puddling underneath her on the sheets and her sad, lank hair static-charged and standing straight out, framing her boxy face…”
I will say this is where Kanakia excels. At writing in such a way, the reader feels dirty and gross the vivid descriptions capturing the scene and conveying a sense of unease and rawness.
“She went to his bed, got naked, climbed under the covers—a man with long, thin hair and two blobs of subcutaneous fat on his chest.”
It reminded me of when I read Tell Me I’m Worthless by Alison Rumfitt, the same level of grossness to the writing style. I wished the rest of the writing continued in that same level.
I also did enjoy how gender dysphoria was brought up, and the overall discussion of what Jhanvi would do to be a woman. I lost the quote and wish I had tabbed it but there is a moment where she mentions wanting to suck the essence of being a woman out of her housemates, and if that isn’t gender envy and the struggle of trans people, I don’t know what is. It was so raw and honest, and my enby was like: yes that.
The plot was far different then I expected, and instead felt it was more aptly as one woman’s downward spiral, and the lengths she will go to feel desired and get what she wants.
A huge issue I have with this story, is that it doesn’t feel at all anything like the back cover promises. When I am recommended a book that is marketed to me as “darkly funny”, I expect to at least chuckle. Perhaps a weak smile. I don’t expect pages and pages of sexual assault, bigotry, racism, and more. There are no content warnings, I went into this full raw dogging it, and felt totally off balance. I got through it, but I like to be able to know what I’m getting into.
This story didn’t feel darkly funny, in fact it felt incredibly depressing, full of triggers, (There is SO MUCH SEXUAL ASSAULT) and more akin to a horror story than anything else. (Tempted to shelf it as horror) There are entire pages devoted to chunks and chunks of dialogue, where it doesn’t feel like a real conversation, and instead people for some reason having these obscure and deep observations about the world around them. Jhanvi spent most of the time talking at people, and I was so confused why the other person would just listen and respond. Quite frankly the fact she just moved in and started living there, read to me as everyone else was justified in wanting her to go. And it's not like she didn’t have a job and a place already back home, she did, until she ditched it all. It read nearly like BPD to me, and I was surprised her mental health was never brought up. (Girl needs ALL THE THERAPY!)
Half of this book would be lost if Jhanvi spent less time telling others how ugly and worthless she was. (The red flag is the size of a small country now.)
“’I’m disgusting. I’m a monster. I’m like something from a nightmare.’”
Another part of the blurb where it says: “Soon, she has to choose between doing what’s right and doing what’s right for her.” I would say that is an inherently false statement, Jhanvi right from page one doesn’t do the right thing, and that trend continues the whole story and even at the end continues her own self-described evil. She also doesn’t do what’s right for her either, self-destructivity was maxed out.
It takes a bold author to write a book with not only a terrible main character, but with a full set of characters, all truly bad people. Jhanvi is billed as somehow being a “sensitive” heroine, and I don’t like how this is being pitched as questioning the promise of “found family”. Found family at its essence, comes from queer culture. Of your own family rejecting you and CHOOSING others near you who are good and kind, and who love you. The whole premises of this story where instead it’s just a group of people together only because they’re roommates and sleeping together, and have money tangled up in each other’s business, is not at all what a found family is. You can’t critique and question the whole trope and promise when you’re not even establishing what the correct baseline for found family is. Showing up and forcibly moving into someone else’s home is not at all how you come to be in a found family. (Though a point could be made that Henry, Audrey, and Katie are a found family, though it reads more as just a close friendship or poly) I would say it is more accurate to white people being granola, a hippie free love lifestyle that usually is selective to those above a certain salary bracket and who bill themselves as being liberal and accepting.
Jhanvi is an abusive person that does horrible things to the people around her, and also experiences abuse throughout the story. She somehow manages to make these all-knowing comments about other people, as if she magically knows everything about them, yet also continues to incredibly childish and immature, as well as well. Horrible.
Jhanvi was hard to stomach, manipulative at best, a self-victimizer at worst, she truly was not lying when she said she had a “white soul”.
“She might look dark and look marginalized, but she had the soul of a skinny white girl…”
This was hard to read.
“…’but I’m literally the most marginalized person here.’”
If her race wasn’t mentioned, it would be easy to read her as being white, just because she is so desperate to victimize herself. It reminds me of white queer people who finally are able to claim a marginalized card when they come out and use it whenever they can. She constantly throws tantrums, abuses the people around her, and is a general villain.
Jhanvi meets Toni, and right off the bat she picks apart her appearance, touching her this way and that.
“Look, your facial hair is sparse.’ She touched Toni’s face, ran her thumb over the bristles on the chin. ‘It won’t cost you nearly as much as it’ll cost me. Start doing lasering, invest in that…You’ve got that boyish frame that’s a nice basic start—no fat to take away, just fat to add, and that thin chest will look good even with small breasts.’”
The red flags aren’t flags anymore, they’re neon.
Jhanvi also repeatedly makes physical contact with Roshie, without consent, even after being told no.
“Jhanvi pounced, wrapping her arms around her friend…Roshie fought free and whirled around…’Don’t do that!’ Roshie waved a finger.”
It’s not far off to say even the way every woman was described was inherently misogynistic in nature. I can’t remember the last time I read a book where every single woman’s appearance was picked apart and described in such detail, down to their height. Actually, yes, I can. There’s a reason I stay away from books written by cis men, they usually describe women’s heights down to the inch, always giving them perfect bodies and even detailing their breasts in such a way I feel dirty after reading.
“She was short, maybe 5’3 or so, and her brown hair was perpetually in a ponytail. She looked like a gymnast, slight at first glance, almost elfin, but her arms and thighs and back were knotted muscle.”
That’s not to say every woman is given this treatment, Roshie is instead repeatedly talked about in terms of her acne scars and “pugnacious” appearance. It isn’t a difficult leap to see how different the treatment and appearance white women vs. BIPOC women are given, though how it lands at times feels almost too far to the other side of the coin and instead sways into nearly feeling stereotypical in nature. Roshie’s personality and anger is so frequently brought up, as if she isn’t allowed the same space to be a boss bitch like the white women are.
It is difficult to say if it was intentional on Kanakia’s part or not, I haven’t read any of her other books, so I am unable to say if this is solely contained to this book or not. Though even Roshie is described as “…her little fists swinging…” because heaven forbid every other woman besides Jhanvi be skinny and perfect. Even at the end, Jhanvi is unable to see her (Roshie) as beautiful.
“…unshaven pits and arms—the Persian girl’s curse, she was hairy as fuck. Not beautiful, never beautiful, never that.”
There were moments I was confused about terms or wording, and when leggings kept being used as clothing descriptions, I realized it was because the author is likely from a far older generation then me. I have never heard anyone describe another person as a “sex friend”, and moment like that I wish were adjusted to actually make sense. (Online sexting, roleplay, fuck buddy, one sided online relationship, like there’s options, people!)
Truly one of the things missing was more stringent editing. There was such an excess of exclamation points, em dashes, and ellipses. I counted on one page, there was 4 em dashes. It’s not necessary, and others were composed of less letters and actual words and instead I stared at a page nearly full of ellipses. Other times I would find myself broken out of reading because there were SO many exclamation points. (5 on page 56 alone) Sentences in a row that lost their emotional impact and instead landed weakly, a period would have sufficed.
This is the first book I’ve read by Naomi Kanakia, and at this point I am unsure if I would read anything else by her. I would actually read a critical essay from her; her writing feels like it would be strong in that regard.
It's difficult to recommend a book that was nothing like I expected or was prepared for. Personally, I would not recommend this book, unless you enjoy this type of adult fiction. It is not to my tastes, and I really don’t think enough happened in it, most of it was devoted to Jhanvi having long conversations and complaining about the world or relationships but it feels like nothing actually happened. (Growth, not found.) Jhanvi is also completely aware of this, yet still doesn’t quite get it.
“Perhaps this ecosystem needed Jhanvi’s evilness, just as the bay needed the scuttling crabs to consume the dead fish. Without her, there would be no cleansing scorn to clear away the bullshit and allow these people to really live.”
Thank you to the publisher for this arc
The story had a rocky start for me, and I didn’t start truly stop tabbing every single moment of awkward writing or excess dialogue until the second half of the story. At some point between Jhanvi’s spiraling out, and Henry being a flaccid man, I just couldn’t look away. That could partially be contributed to the fact my power is still out because of Hurricane Beryl. I am at a loss for entertainment now. (Fuck you, weather)
I did enjoy the descriptions, they had my stomach twisting, masterfully so.
“…but she plunged onward, blindly, licking and slobbering, running her tongue and throat over it as he moaned….”
“Her wooden dick sawed mechanically into and out of him…”
“…with her hairy skin puddling underneath her on the sheets and her sad, lank hair static-charged and standing straight out, framing her boxy face…”
I will say this is where Kanakia excels. At writing in such a way, the reader feels dirty and gross the vivid descriptions capturing the scene and conveying a sense of unease and rawness.
“She went to his bed, got naked, climbed under the covers—a man with long, thin hair and two blobs of subcutaneous fat on his chest.”
It reminded me of when I read Tell Me I’m Worthless by Alison Rumfitt, the same level of grossness to the writing style. I wished the rest of the writing continued in that same level.
I also did enjoy how gender dysphoria was brought up, and the overall discussion of what Jhanvi would do to be a woman. I lost the quote and wish I had tabbed it but there is a moment where she mentions wanting to suck the essence of being a woman out of her housemates, and if that isn’t gender envy and the struggle of trans people, I don’t know what is. It was so raw and honest, and my enby was like: yes that.
The plot was far different then I expected, and instead felt it was more aptly as one woman’s downward spiral, and the lengths she will go to feel desired and get what she wants.
A huge issue I have with this story, is that it doesn’t feel at all anything like the back cover promises. When I am recommended a book that is marketed to me as “darkly funny”, I expect to at least chuckle. Perhaps a weak smile. I don’t expect pages and pages of sexual assault, bigotry, racism, and more. There are no content warnings, I went into this full raw dogging it, and felt totally off balance. I got through it, but I like to be able to know what I’m getting into.
This story didn’t feel darkly funny, in fact it felt incredibly depressing, full of triggers, (There is SO MUCH SEXUAL ASSAULT) and more akin to a horror story than anything else. (Tempted to shelf it as horror) There are entire pages devoted to chunks and chunks of dialogue, where it doesn’t feel like a real conversation, and instead people for some reason having these obscure and deep observations about the world around them. Jhanvi spent most of the time talking at people, and I was so confused why the other person would just listen and respond. Quite frankly the fact she just moved in and started living there, read to me as everyone else was justified in wanting her to go. And it's not like she didn’t have a job and a place already back home, she did, until she ditched it all. It read nearly like BPD to me, and I was surprised her mental health was never brought up. (Girl needs ALL THE THERAPY!)
Half of this book would be lost if Jhanvi spent less time telling others how ugly and worthless she was. (The red flag is the size of a small country now.)
“’I’m disgusting. I’m a monster. I’m like something from a nightmare.’”
Another part of the blurb where it says: “Soon, she has to choose between doing what’s right and doing what’s right for her.” I would say that is an inherently false statement, Jhanvi right from page one doesn’t do the right thing, and that trend continues the whole story and even at the end continues her own self-described evil. She also doesn’t do what’s right for her either, self-destructivity was maxed out.
It takes a bold author to write a book with not only a terrible main character, but with a full set of characters, all truly bad people. Jhanvi is billed as somehow being a “sensitive” heroine, and I don’t like how this is being pitched as questioning the promise of “found family”. Found family at its essence, comes from queer culture. Of your own family rejecting you and CHOOSING others near you who are good and kind, and who love you. The whole premises of this story where instead it’s just a group of people together only because they’re roommates and sleeping together, and have money tangled up in each other’s business, is not at all what a found family is. You can’t critique and question the whole trope and promise when you’re not even establishing what the correct baseline for found family is. Showing up and forcibly moving into someone else’s home is not at all how you come to be in a found family. (Though a point could be made that Henry, Audrey, and Katie are a found family, though it reads more as just a close friendship or poly) I would say it is more accurate to white people being granola, a hippie free love lifestyle that usually is selective to those above a certain salary bracket and who bill themselves as being liberal and accepting.
Jhanvi is an abusive person that does horrible things to the people around her, and also experiences abuse throughout the story. She somehow manages to make these all-knowing comments about other people, as if she magically knows everything about them, yet also continues to incredibly childish and immature, as well as well. Horrible.
Jhanvi was hard to stomach, manipulative at best, a self-victimizer at worst, she truly was not lying when she said she had a “white soul”.
“She might look dark and look marginalized, but she had the soul of a skinny white girl…”
This was hard to read.
“…’but I’m literally the most marginalized person here.’”
If her race wasn’t mentioned, it would be easy to read her as being white, just because she is so desperate to victimize herself. It reminds me of white queer people who finally are able to claim a marginalized card when they come out and use it whenever they can. She constantly throws tantrums, abuses the people around her, and is a general villain.
Jhanvi meets Toni, and right off the bat she picks apart her appearance, touching her this way and that.
“Look, your facial hair is sparse.’ She touched Toni’s face, ran her thumb over the bristles on the chin. ‘It won’t cost you nearly as much as it’ll cost me. Start doing lasering, invest in that…You’ve got that boyish frame that’s a nice basic start—no fat to take away, just fat to add, and that thin chest will look good even with small breasts.’”
The red flags aren’t flags anymore, they’re neon.
Jhanvi also repeatedly makes physical contact with Roshie, without consent, even after being told no.
“Jhanvi pounced, wrapping her arms around her friend…Roshie fought free and whirled around…’Don’t do that!’ Roshie waved a finger.”
It’s not far off to say even the way every woman was described was inherently misogynistic in nature. I can’t remember the last time I read a book where every single woman’s appearance was picked apart and described in such detail, down to their height. Actually, yes, I can. There’s a reason I stay away from books written by cis men, they usually describe women’s heights down to the inch, always giving them perfect bodies and even detailing their breasts in such a way I feel dirty after reading.
“She was short, maybe 5’3 or so, and her brown hair was perpetually in a ponytail. She looked like a gymnast, slight at first glance, almost elfin, but her arms and thighs and back were knotted muscle.”
That’s not to say every woman is given this treatment, Roshie is instead repeatedly talked about in terms of her acne scars and “pugnacious” appearance. It isn’t a difficult leap to see how different the treatment and appearance white women vs. BIPOC women are given, though how it lands at times feels almost too far to the other side of the coin and instead sways into nearly feeling stereotypical in nature. Roshie’s personality and anger is so frequently brought up, as if she isn’t allowed the same space to be a boss bitch like the white women are.
It is difficult to say if it was intentional on Kanakia’s part or not, I haven’t read any of her other books, so I am unable to say if this is solely contained to this book or not. Though even Roshie is described as “…her little fists swinging…” because heaven forbid every other woman besides Jhanvi be skinny and perfect. Even at the end, Jhanvi is unable to see her (Roshie) as beautiful.
“…unshaven pits and arms—the Persian girl’s curse, she was hairy as fuck. Not beautiful, never beautiful, never that.”
There were moments I was confused about terms or wording, and when leggings kept being used as clothing descriptions, I realized it was because the author is likely from a far older generation then me. I have never heard anyone describe another person as a “sex friend”, and moment like that I wish were adjusted to actually make sense. (Online sexting, roleplay, fuck buddy, one sided online relationship, like there’s options, people!)
Truly one of the things missing was more stringent editing. There was such an excess of exclamation points, em dashes, and ellipses. I counted on one page, there was 4 em dashes. It’s not necessary, and others were composed of less letters and actual words and instead I stared at a page nearly full of ellipses. Other times I would find myself broken out of reading because there were SO many exclamation points. (5 on page 56 alone) Sentences in a row that lost their emotional impact and instead landed weakly, a period would have sufficed.
This is the first book I’ve read by Naomi Kanakia, and at this point I am unsure if I would read anything else by her. I would actually read a critical essay from her; her writing feels like it would be strong in that regard.
It's difficult to recommend a book that was nothing like I expected or was prepared for. Personally, I would not recommend this book, unless you enjoy this type of adult fiction. It is not to my tastes, and I really don’t think enough happened in it, most of it was devoted to Jhanvi having long conversations and complaining about the world or relationships but it feels like nothing actually happened. (Growth, not found.) Jhanvi is also completely aware of this, yet still doesn’t quite get it.
“Perhaps this ecosystem needed Jhanvi’s evilness, just as the bay needed the scuttling crabs to consume the dead fish. Without her, there would be no cleansing scorn to clear away the bullshit and allow these people to really live.”
Thank you to the publisher for this arc
December 10, 2024
This book was so delusional. WTF.
January 30, 2025
4.5 but rounded up, probably my favorite this year so far.
I don't think I've read a book that has a more painful and accurate depiction of alcoholism.
I don't think I've read a book that has a more painful and accurate depiction of alcoholism.
Read
May 26, 2024This book is not what I would have expected at all and yet, it delivered on a number of fronts. The book tells the story of Jhanvi, a trans woman, recovering from an alcohol and drug addiction (but not always in recovery) who devises a plan to use a college friendship as an inroad to the hope of marrying that person so that she can avail herself of all the insurance benefits to get the surgeries and medical procedures she needs. When she arrives at her friend's house, she finds that her college friend, Henry and his roommates are involved in an alternative lifestyle under the guise of creating an inclusive community.
For me, this book drove home a few things. First, the lengths people will go to live a life that feels more authentic to them. In addition to Jhanvi, the characters were imperfect and complicated, some of whom had self-perceptions that were vastly different than how others see them. Second this book made me think about the people who will stand by you no matter what and how sometimes the things others say to you may or may not be true.
Was glad to read this book - made me think and that is always a good thing!
Thank you to Wunderkind PR for sending me this ARC - the book comes out in the coming week.
For me, this book drove home a few things. First, the lengths people will go to live a life that feels more authentic to them. In addition to Jhanvi, the characters were imperfect and complicated, some of whom had self-perceptions that were vastly different than how others see them. Second this book made me think about the people who will stand by you no matter what and how sometimes the things others say to you may or may not be true.
Was glad to read this book - made me think and that is always a good thing!
Thank you to Wunderkind PR for sending me this ARC - the book comes out in the coming week.
July 6, 2024
I am still processing my reaction to this book but I liked a lot about it. It was darker than I expected going in, and the protagonist's self hatred was hard to witness at times. Funny and sharply critical, moments of gorgeous insight and others of fascinating contradictions. I'm into the whole conversation about community.
January 10, 2025
I love Kanakia's blogging and there is an interesting novel in this social world with this character that could blow open a lot of the myths of the Bay Area in the 21st century and be entertaining. I didn't care that the protagonist was unlikable or that the social world she was ingratiating herself into was full of people who were even worse. My problem was simply that the characters were archetypes in a such an au courant way. I want fiction to engage with the present, but not the near present---this felt like it was aging by the minute and I'm just not convinced the kind of progressivism explored here has even survived 2024, let alone will survive more than 5-10 more years.
May 26, 2025
Real Rating: 4.75* of five
The Publisher Says: A trans woman sets out to exploit a group of wealthy roommates, only to fall under the spell of their glamorous, hedonistic lifestyle in tech-bubble San Francisco.
Years after fleeing San Francisco and getting sober, Jhanvi has made a life for herself working at a grocery co-op and saving for her surgeries. But when her friend (and sometimes more) Henry mentions that he and his techie festival-goer friends spent $100,000 to transform a warehouse basement into a sex dungeon, Jhanvi starts wondering if there’s a way to exploit these gullible idiots. She returns to San Francisco, hatching a plan to marry Henry for his company’s generous healthcare benefits.
Jhanvi enters a world of beautiful, decadent fire eaters and their lavish sex parties. But as her pretensions to cynicism and control start to fade, she develops a Gatsbyesque attraction to these happy young people and their bold claims of unconditional love. But do any of her privileged new friends really like or accept her? Her financial needs expose the limits of a community built on limitless self-expression, and soon she has to choose between doing what’s right, and doing what’s right for her.
This darkly funny novel skewers privileged leftist millennial tech culture, and asks whether "found family" is just another of the 21st-century's broken promises.
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.
My Review: Goals and aspirations are like morals and principles: without them you're adrift, with them you're at risk, under their spell you're doomed. Stop introspecting and examining yourself, your mental construct, your inner dialogue, and see how fast the fall from the moral high ground comes.
Surfaces aren't very pretty after you've experienced what Jhanvi has. All that energy to become a surface version of a fantasy she's had locked in her head until it's eaten every other thought in there. Like Saltburn, like The Talented Mr. Ripley, this is open to a facile reading of "how awful these rich scum are" followed by "what a prick this grifter is."
Don't stop there.
How horrible a world do we live in when this kind of grift is the only way to get what that very world has conditioned you to think you want?
The dimwitted techies are awful; Jhanvi is horrible; but who here hasn't bought into the surface glamour of the world as it points its skeletal finger directly at your core of lack and absence, to say "fill that this way to be truly full at last?" It's seductive because it sounds easy and we want it to be true. It's neither. This is the beating heart of Author Kanakia's story.
The sheer chutzpah of writing across race and class and hotness boundaries about the things that both cross and reinforce those boundaries in such a direct narrative voice! That it comes out of a deeply unreliable narrator's mind. That it's entitled "The Default World." That Jhanvi's completely sure she's Right. That she never tips her hand...you can read Author Kanakia's story on any level you meet it at, come away sure that's The Right Way to see it, and no one can tell you otherwise. That is craft at an unusually high level.
Beware of Being Right. It is addictive and destructive and utterly blindingly grotesquely wrong.
I'm aware that a lot of people found this a challenging story to accept. I think that's excellent. I assure you Jhanvi is only fictionalized, not fictional. She's alive and well and grifting her heart out in reality more certainly now than ever when trans folk are under attack in 2025-Felonious-Yam Murruhkuh. I say, good on ya babay and more power to you in the quest to become yourself.
The big problem for the Jhanvis of the world, the Henrys and Katies of the world is discovering you *are* yourself already, and you don't like that person.
So why didn't I finish the book off with the rest of that fifth star? Because setting the story in the Aughties felt like Author Kanakia wanted to be safe, putting it at a distance. That was uncharacteristically cheap. But there's nothing to say others will feel that way.
The Publisher Says: A trans woman sets out to exploit a group of wealthy roommates, only to fall under the spell of their glamorous, hedonistic lifestyle in tech-bubble San Francisco.
Years after fleeing San Francisco and getting sober, Jhanvi has made a life for herself working at a grocery co-op and saving for her surgeries. But when her friend (and sometimes more) Henry mentions that he and his techie festival-goer friends spent $100,000 to transform a warehouse basement into a sex dungeon, Jhanvi starts wondering if there’s a way to exploit these gullible idiots. She returns to San Francisco, hatching a plan to marry Henry for his company’s generous healthcare benefits.
Jhanvi enters a world of beautiful, decadent fire eaters and their lavish sex parties. But as her pretensions to cynicism and control start to fade, she develops a Gatsbyesque attraction to these happy young people and their bold claims of unconditional love. But do any of her privileged new friends really like or accept her? Her financial needs expose the limits of a community built on limitless self-expression, and soon she has to choose between doing what’s right, and doing what’s right for her.
This darkly funny novel skewers privileged leftist millennial tech culture, and asks whether "found family" is just another of the 21st-century's broken promises.
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.
My Review: Goals and aspirations are like morals and principles: without them you're adrift, with them you're at risk, under their spell you're doomed. Stop introspecting and examining yourself, your mental construct, your inner dialogue, and see how fast the fall from the moral high ground comes.
Surfaces aren't very pretty after you've experienced what Jhanvi has. All that energy to become a surface version of a fantasy she's had locked in her head until it's eaten every other thought in there. Like Saltburn, like The Talented Mr. Ripley, this is open to a facile reading of "how awful these rich scum are" followed by "what a prick this grifter is."
Don't stop there.
How horrible a world do we live in when this kind of grift is the only way to get what that very world has conditioned you to think you want?
The dimwitted techies are awful; Jhanvi is horrible; but who here hasn't bought into the surface glamour of the world as it points its skeletal finger directly at your core of lack and absence, to say "fill that this way to be truly full at last?" It's seductive because it sounds easy and we want it to be true. It's neither. This is the beating heart of Author Kanakia's story.
The sheer chutzpah of writing across race and class and hotness boundaries about the things that both cross and reinforce those boundaries in such a direct narrative voice! That it comes out of a deeply unreliable narrator's mind. That it's entitled "The Default World." That Jhanvi's completely sure she's Right. That she never tips her hand...you can read Author Kanakia's story on any level you meet it at, come away sure that's The Right Way to see it, and no one can tell you otherwise. That is craft at an unusually high level.
Beware of Being Right. It is addictive and destructive and utterly blindingly grotesquely wrong.
I'm aware that a lot of people found this a challenging story to accept. I think that's excellent. I assure you Jhanvi is only fictionalized, not fictional. She's alive and well and grifting her heart out in reality more certainly now than ever when trans folk are under attack in 2025-Felonious-Yam Murruhkuh. I say, good on ya babay and more power to you in the quest to become yourself.
The big problem for the Jhanvis of the world, the Henrys and Katies of the world is discovering you *are* yourself already, and you don't like that person.
So why didn't I finish the book off with the rest of that fifth star? Because setting the story in the Aughties felt like Author Kanakia wanted to be safe, putting it at a distance. That was uncharacteristically cheap. But there's nothing to say others will feel that way.
Read
June 20, 2024Jhanvi has returned to San Francisco with a plan: marry her old friend Henry who has a job with good benefits so she can use them to cover the costs of her gender-affirming surgeries. Abandoning her job and stable life in Sacramento, she lands in the middle of a group of fire eaters who host lavish, erotic parties and espouse unconditional love and acceptance. Jhanvi’s plan seems easy but being in the midst of this group of rich, young, attractive white people is a set up for exploring complex themes in a unique and interesting way.
Jhanvi delves deep into feelings her body coupled with drastically shifts between self doubt and attempts at acceptance and these issues are heightened when she aligns with this group of people who are seemingly closer to the ideal. Her position on the periphery of the community allows a fly-on-the-wall perspective that provides insight into the challenges of existing in relation to others and sheds an authentic light that diminishes the shiny veneer. The process of finding her way into the group is not a smooth path but ultimately this is a story of community and found family; it’s messiness and it’s beauty. It is also a clever criticism of people who profess certain ideals outwardly that are more self serving than altruistic.
This must be the year for reading books with a lot of sex, this one certainly has it and even though there were detailed depictions of the things you expect will happen at an alternative sex party it still served a purpose; looking at power and control, consent, taking care of ourselves vs. pleasing others.
The critic in me had challenges with this book. I could see the reason why Toni was included but their arc wasn’t fully fleshed out or explored as I had wished. There were times I felt things were over described and explained in way more detail than needed; maybe I could see enough of myself in Jhanvi that I didn’t need the level of detail that was offered? I see the reason behind the choices but sometimes it felt overdone. But ultimately none of this mattered because I was so fully invested in Jhanvi’s story I wanted to keep reading to see where Kanakia would take Jhanvi and her friends in addition to loving the unique approach to exploring community and found family.
Thank you @feministpress for the #gifted ARC.
Jhanvi delves deep into feelings her body coupled with drastically shifts between self doubt and attempts at acceptance and these issues are heightened when she aligns with this group of people who are seemingly closer to the ideal. Her position on the periphery of the community allows a fly-on-the-wall perspective that provides insight into the challenges of existing in relation to others and sheds an authentic light that diminishes the shiny veneer. The process of finding her way into the group is not a smooth path but ultimately this is a story of community and found family; it’s messiness and it’s beauty. It is also a clever criticism of people who profess certain ideals outwardly that are more self serving than altruistic.
This must be the year for reading books with a lot of sex, this one certainly has it and even though there were detailed depictions of the things you expect will happen at an alternative sex party it still served a purpose; looking at power and control, consent, taking care of ourselves vs. pleasing others.
The critic in me had challenges with this book. I could see the reason why Toni was included but their arc wasn’t fully fleshed out or explored as I had wished. There were times I felt things were over described and explained in way more detail than needed; maybe I could see enough of myself in Jhanvi that I didn’t need the level of detail that was offered? I see the reason behind the choices but sometimes it felt overdone. But ultimately none of this mattered because I was so fully invested in Jhanvi’s story I wanted to keep reading to see where Kanakia would take Jhanvi and her friends in addition to loving the unique approach to exploring community and found family.
Thank you @feministpress for the #gifted ARC.
June 28, 2024
Bold
Sassy
Amazing
🏳️🌈The Default World follows a young trans woman, Jhanvi who tries to find her place in the world. In a not fair world, I might say.
🏳️🌈Thank you to @wunderbookspr for sending me a free copy in exchange for an honest review.
Disclaimer
🏳️🌈If you are easily offended by explicit words and issues about nudity, transgenders and sex don't continue reading this.
🏳️🌈At a first glance, I felt really uncomfortable, reading about a trans woman that hadn't completely transformed to a woman. Jhanvi didn't have her surgery yet. And even though I was familiar with trans people (as a term, I haven't met any) I wasn't prepared for all the "her cock" words which are real, don't get me wrong, but unfamiliar at least to me.
🏳️🌈I wasn't naive to believe that this book wouldn't have sex and sex with transgenders. That didn't bothered me.
🏳️🌈Mostly all of the dialogues, felt forced and unrealistic. I mean trans or no trans you can't possibly use "totally" so many times in a sentence. At the first chapters, especially it felt like it would need more editing.
🏳️🌈The need of Jhanvi or her friends to say in every sentence the word trans was exhausted. Show me that they are trans without saying it and please, I'm on your side. Don't make me feel awkward about it. I'm already feeling out of my zone with you being a woman with a cock, don't rub it in. No pun intended.
🏳️🌈So, I was okay, this book really makes me uncomfortable. I do not want to read this book anymore.
And I dropped it.
And then I picked it up again.
🏳️🌈And I thought to myself. "You're feeling awkward and alone? Imagine what those women and men feel."
🏳️🌈And oh boy, what a cold shower that was. These people, these wonderful women and men, who feel like they don't belong anywhere are the real heroes. And my advise to them is just fuck them. Fuck every moron who said you are not worth it. Because, if we want to see real character strength and courage, we have to open our fucking eyes. They are among us. Are they us? No. Not yet. But they will be. And when they will, I'll raise my fucking hand at them unite WITH THEM.
🏳️🌈This book is bold, beautiful and a hymn to the LGBTQ+ community. Read this book. Educate yourself. That's all.
Sassy
Amazing
🏳️🌈The Default World follows a young trans woman, Jhanvi who tries to find her place in the world. In a not fair world, I might say.
🏳️🌈Thank you to @wunderbookspr for sending me a free copy in exchange for an honest review.
Disclaimer
🏳️🌈If you are easily offended by explicit words and issues about nudity, transgenders and sex don't continue reading this.
🏳️🌈At a first glance, I felt really uncomfortable, reading about a trans woman that hadn't completely transformed to a woman. Jhanvi didn't have her surgery yet. And even though I was familiar with trans people (as a term, I haven't met any) I wasn't prepared for all the "her cock" words which are real, don't get me wrong, but unfamiliar at least to me.
🏳️🌈I wasn't naive to believe that this book wouldn't have sex and sex with transgenders. That didn't bothered me.
🏳️🌈Mostly all of the dialogues, felt forced and unrealistic. I mean trans or no trans you can't possibly use "totally" so many times in a sentence. At the first chapters, especially it felt like it would need more editing.
🏳️🌈The need of Jhanvi or her friends to say in every sentence the word trans was exhausted. Show me that they are trans without saying it and please, I'm on your side. Don't make me feel awkward about it. I'm already feeling out of my zone with you being a woman with a cock, don't rub it in. No pun intended.
🏳️🌈So, I was okay, this book really makes me uncomfortable. I do not want to read this book anymore.
And I dropped it.
And then I picked it up again.
🏳️🌈And I thought to myself. "You're feeling awkward and alone? Imagine what those women and men feel."
🏳️🌈And oh boy, what a cold shower that was. These people, these wonderful women and men, who feel like they don't belong anywhere are the real heroes. And my advise to them is just fuck them. Fuck every moron who said you are not worth it. Because, if we want to see real character strength and courage, we have to open our fucking eyes. They are among us. Are they us? No. Not yet. But they will be. And when they will, I'll raise my fucking hand at them unite WITH THEM.
🏳️🌈This book is bold, beautiful and a hymn to the LGBTQ+ community. Read this book. Educate yourself. That's all.
January 27, 2025
Note: If you expect character development or want sympathetic characters this is not the book for you.
I really enjoyed this book. Every single main character in this book is vile in some way especially the main character a Jhanvi. She is like the end result of the sins of vanity and envie bore a child. She hates that she doesn't fit into the white liberal circles of the tech bros and girls and, even though her techie circle of friends pretend to be socially conscious, they weaponize leftist rhetoric to appear like they care so they can get away with being bigoted to Jhanvi who is a brown trans woman in the middle of transition.
Jhanvi's white friends secretly hate her but for the wrong reasons. If Jhanvi's friends put aside their veiled bigotry and looked at Jhanvi as a human being and a person they would see that Jhanvi is a horrible person. She is a privileged, lazy, and manipulative person who wants to use her identity as a trans woman to guilt her friend into marriage so she can get gender confirming care for free. The thing is, Jhanvi is educated and from an upper middle class family who constantly hook her up with free stuff ; free housing in one of the most expensive cities in the world; and connections to good well paying jobs , but Jhanvi doesn't want to work for anything. She wants to be desired and wants others do do for her. She is self aware and knows it's wrong but she doesn't care.
In this story all the characters are wrong while being right at the same time. This book is a great critique on the nastier parts of upper class liberal culture that is not often talked about. Fascinating read all around.
I really enjoyed this book. Every single main character in this book is vile in some way especially the main character a Jhanvi. She is like the end result of the sins of vanity and envie bore a child. She hates that she doesn't fit into the white liberal circles of the tech bros and girls and, even though her techie circle of friends pretend to be socially conscious, they weaponize leftist rhetoric to appear like they care so they can get away with being bigoted to Jhanvi who is a brown trans woman in the middle of transition.
Jhanvi's white friends secretly hate her but for the wrong reasons. If Jhanvi's friends put aside their veiled bigotry and looked at Jhanvi as a human being and a person they would see that Jhanvi is a horrible person. She is a privileged, lazy, and manipulative person who wants to use her identity as a trans woman to guilt her friend into marriage so she can get gender confirming care for free. The thing is, Jhanvi is educated and from an upper middle class family who constantly hook her up with free stuff ; free housing in one of the most expensive cities in the world; and connections to good well paying jobs , but Jhanvi doesn't want to work for anything. She wants to be desired and wants others do do for her. She is self aware and knows it's wrong but she doesn't care.
In this story all the characters are wrong while being right at the same time. This book is a great critique on the nastier parts of upper class liberal culture that is not often talked about. Fascinating read all around.
June 29, 2024
I’d like to thank Wunderkind PR for sending me an ARC of The Default World from Feminist Press. These opinions are my own.
The Default World takes an extremely raw, honest look at the struggles of Jhanvi, a trans woman so desperate for gender affirming surgeries that she will do anything. She’s willing to compromise her morals and lose herself completely if it means she will look the way she feels and finally be accepted for who she is. Reading this book and thinking about how real these feelings are for so many people is absolutely heartbreaking, and I couldn’t help but root for Jhanvi even though she was an anti-heroine who lied to and manipulated the people around her.
Of course, it helped that the people around her were mostly garbage. One of my favorite things about The Default World is that it highlights the extreme hypocrisy of performative activists. People who are typically privileged, rich, white, and pretend to care about underprivileged people while they actually look down on them. They are very loudly offended on behalf of marginalized groups (even when asked not to be) and they say all kinds of pretty things but when it comes down to actually helping someone in need, they suddenly have all kinds of excuses. It’s slacktivism at its finest, and Naomi Kanakia calls it out brilliantly.
I fully enjoyed The Default World as a work of fiction, but it also taught me so much more than I knew about the trans experience. Jhanvi read like a very real person, and being inside her head was eye-opening. This book has absolutely inspired be to look into more nonfiction on the subject.
The Default World takes an extremely raw, honest look at the struggles of Jhanvi, a trans woman so desperate for gender affirming surgeries that she will do anything. She’s willing to compromise her morals and lose herself completely if it means she will look the way she feels and finally be accepted for who she is. Reading this book and thinking about how real these feelings are for so many people is absolutely heartbreaking, and I couldn’t help but root for Jhanvi even though she was an anti-heroine who lied to and manipulated the people around her.
Of course, it helped that the people around her were mostly garbage. One of my favorite things about The Default World is that it highlights the extreme hypocrisy of performative activists. People who are typically privileged, rich, white, and pretend to care about underprivileged people while they actually look down on them. They are very loudly offended on behalf of marginalized groups (even when asked not to be) and they say all kinds of pretty things but when it comes down to actually helping someone in need, they suddenly have all kinds of excuses. It’s slacktivism at its finest, and Naomi Kanakia calls it out brilliantly.
I fully enjoyed The Default World as a work of fiction, but it also taught me so much more than I knew about the trans experience. Jhanvi read like a very real person, and being inside her head was eye-opening. This book has absolutely inspired be to look into more nonfiction on the subject.
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