I adore Monica Murphy and am such a fan of so many of her novels, but at a quarter of the way through “Addicted to Him,” I’m left wondering whether she actually wrote this book. It just seems to have none of the hallmarks of her previous works. The characters lack the warmth, charm, and spirit shared by so many of her other characters in previous books. I realize this book is YA lit, a genre with which I’m well-acquainted, and this means a good deal of angst and melodrama are to be expected. I also accept that maybe, at 34 years old, I’m not the intended audience for this book, because if this is teen love, then YIKES.
Early on, through Ava’s internal monologue, Murphy characterizes her female lead as a feminista of sorts, which is incongruous to Ava’s actual actions. Ava at no point in the first quarter of this novel consents to any of Eli’s physical advances without badgering or coercion. She waffles between being unsure about the contradictory nature of her feelings and rebuffing his advances; ultimately, it doesn’t matter, because whatever the heck she is feeling is just flat-out ignored. Despite her mixed emotions and half-hearted dissent, male-lead Eli continues to press forward with threats of blackmail and somewhat unwanted physical advances, and Ava just decides to accept it because she apparently likes being the center of his attention? Because she wants a boyfriend like her older sister? Because... honestly, at this point, who the hell knows? The author’s justifications for allowing Ava’s protestations to be ignored just get more convoluted and muddled with each turn of the page. Yes, despite her earlier censure of Eli’s behavior, she later kisses him back, then, a short time after that, she initiates kissing him, but by that point, I was so dismayed by all the non-consensual physical engagement that I was completely closed off and no longer receptive to the paltry-and-plodding development of the relationship.
Furthermore, Eli is repulsive in the way he thinks and speaks about women. This is beyond the stereotypical language of teenage boys. Eli oozes toxic masculinity. He’s gross and unappealing, and if the author is going to have Ava take issue with what she perceives as misogyny from her father, Drew, then you can’t convince me she would tolerate Eli’s shitty behavior for even 10 seconds or that she would mistake his blatant sexism for “charm.” At 25% read, there are no less than five references to the female anatomy of Ava, her sister, and her mother that make me cringe. Eli is, and I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say this, the high school version of Brock Turner—an overprivileged, white boy who has never believed that the word “no” applies to him. How Monica Murphy crafted a character so irredeemable is both impressive and a mystery to me. She literally has the character describe himself as “the lovable goof who says inappropriate things,” which is a pretty lofty description of a person that spends the better part of the same chapter mentally berating 16-year-old Ava for not wanting to have sex with him in his swimming pool, while crassly objectifying sexually graphic snaps from another girl and pontificating how this girl is an easier target to sleep with because she has more experience and wouldn’t be a “tease.” I cannot express just how tone deaf the characters—and apparently the author—are.
There is nothing romantic about a 17-year-old breaking into a 16-year-old’s room and climbing on top of her sleeping form. There is nothing sweet or amorous about routinely objectifying a young woman to the point it causes her extreme discomfort. This is not about your male lead “lacking impulse control.” This is NON-CONSENSUAL SEXUAL ADVANCES TOWARDS A MINOR BEING ROMANTICIZED AND NORMALIZED. Again, maybe I’m old and out of touch with the Snapchat, “I do streaks,” swipe-up-and-rate-me-if-you-like-me crowd, but I honestly don’t think it’s all me and my interpretation, as in the previous two novels in this series, I never felt disgusted by the characters or content, nor did I feel compelled to quit reading, regardless of the age or maturity levels of the lead characters and the juvenile subject matter.
Murphy has previously incorporated mature and taboo topics into her writings, but, despite this, and in spite of her characters’ backgrounds or trauma, never have her main characters been this unlikable, unbelievable, or irredeemable. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to say that Fable NEVER would have tolerated this crap from anyone, and given her history, it’s certainly realistic to believe she never would have raised any of her children to be tolerant of abusive behavior. I don’t get how the author keeps comparing Ava, this wishy-washy doormat that is her female lead, to the vibrant, resilient, spirited character who is her mother. There is ABSOLUTELY no comparison between the two, and there is no way that Murphy, the same woman who had Fable convince Drew that he was molested, wrote a book with a female lead who is literally convincing herself that her sexual assailant is her future soul mate.
I keep asking myself: how is “Addicted to Him” written by the same author as “One Week Girlfriend,” and what the hell is wrong with this book? Don’t answer that. It’s rhetorical — EVERYTHING is wrong with it, starting with the title, which becomes infinitely more cringy once you start reading the story. I can list on one hand the number of books I’ve chosen not to finish reading, but after 14 chapters, I’m throwing in the towel on this one. It can’t be possible for each sentence to be worse than the previous one. It just cannot. And yet, each sentence is unequivocally more awful than its predecessor. HOW IS THIS BOOK SO BAD? I honestly fear for my Kindle. The Eli chapters make me want to throw my device across the room at the wall. It’s unreal how much I despise this book, the characters, the plot (I’m not sure you can actually call the contents of this story a plot, but *shrug emoji*). And unless this book ends with 1.) Ava’s parents confronting her about and supporting her through her assault and 2.) Eli ending up receiving some really significant punishment for his repugnant—and criminal—behavior, then I won’t possibly be satisfied. And from what I’ve gathered from many negative reviews, this novel ends on a cliffhanger, which seriously makes me wonder who thought a couple hundred pages of this dreck wasn’t enough, let’s write a couple hundred more? This book is an unmitigated disaster.
I’m no prude, honestly. I read tons of YA lit and I rarely ever experience an “ick factor,” but this book raises far too many red flags and I am baffled that no one who read this book prior to its publishing had an issue with its content. How did not a single person who beta read this not find this plot and content problematic for young and new adults, especially in the “Me too”-era? I definitely don’t get the glowing reviews and the peer praise this book is receiving, and I’m certainly not going to be recommending it any time soon.