“But maybe hope was not as meaningless an emotion as she’d always thought. Maybe it even had the potential to be stronger than pure belief, because hope, after all, was what had brought the protest together in the first place. She was sure that a lot of the other protest-goers had their doubts about it, too, that even as they marched they were suspecting it wouldn’t make a difference. In the crowd, she had felt it: their uncertainty, their lack of conviction. But they hoped. That was why they were there, in the end.”
To a young woman living amongst inevitable chaos unfolding in a late capitalist society in New York City, it may seem like the end of the world is on the horizon and nobody else seems to take it as seriously as you.
Or are there others out there suffering similar silent anxieties themselves that you have yet to cross paths with?
Janet is an underpaid online therapist whose job is to read anonymous grievance letters and connect patients to medical professionals. Those faceless complaints and pleas for assistance wear on her, but the only way she seeks out peace is through useless first dates with shallow Tinder men and by lying around in her empty apartment. She tries connecting with her sister, who seems to have it all with her husband and kids in Florida, but when a hurricane threatens to hit where Janet’s sister lives, only Janet displays concern about their safety. Is everybody this apathetic? Janet feels that the outrage toward climate change and the world as a whole only resonates with her, until she stumbles across an intelligent, thought-provoking grievance letter looking for somebody to talk to. Janet knows writing up a personalized reply to a grievance letter is unprofessional, but the thought of connecting with somebody of similar passions fills her with a kind of hope she hasn’t felt in forever.
Anna is a former Russian model and now sugar baby, working in America to save up for herself and her family as the economy threatens to collapse. Warren, her sugar daddy, treats her well enough, providing her with an allowance, endearing nicknames, and lavish outings. But Anna doesn’t love him. Grappling with memories of her ex-boyfriend and distant relatives in a whole other continent, she struggles to find a sense of belonging even beside Warren and his rich friends. She doesn’t want to be viewed as a toy rather than a woman, but she is adamant to do whatever it takes to provide for herself and her loved ones. When Warren starts to treat her to expensive pieces of apparel rather than money itself, Anna begins to have doubts about whether or not her relationship with this wealthy man is worth it in the long run.
Gemma is a British exchange student attending school in America and living with her boyfriend Derek. Still grieving the fresh loss of her mother, Gemma aspires to be a social media influencer and paint herself as somebody that others can look up to. The only problem? Gemma can’t seem to find the motivation to film a single video. Between judgmental creative writing classmates and a boyfriend who seems to be growing more distant by the minute, Gemma feels like she is more alone than ever, which especially stings in an unfamiliar country and without the loving support of her mother to guide the way.
Are these three Gen Z women doomed to despair in an era where everyone else is selfish and unmotivated, or will they find hints of hope glimmering among their grim realities?
“‘Luck doesn’t occur in the form of a person. It occurs in the patterns, the things that happen to you. People are just part of the pattern. They are incidental.’
‘So…’ Anna hesitated, wondering how to phrase her next question. They didn’t usually have this type of conversation. ‘What are you saying? I’m a person. Do you think I’m incidental?’
‘In a way, yes.’”
What I adore about Amy DeBellis’s writing is that it doesn’t shy away from the uncomfortable. Yearning for connection and silent dismay at the state of the world is something that I’m sure everybody has experienced in their lives, especially those in their twenties, but it’s rare to see those kinds of subjects touched upon. ALL OUR TOMORROWS puts a spotlight on the lonely. The anxious. The grieving. And instead of saving her characters from these unpleasant situations, DeBellis lets them sit with it, digesting the weight of their concerns and validating just how terrible it is to feel utterly alone in an era and setting that are most typically depicted as bustling, productive, and romantic.
For that reason, I really appreciate the “mundane” pacing of this particular novel. DeBellis truly nails the sensation of time standing still when nothing goes right. Each character arc is cushioned with magnificent, almost tactile imagery surrounding their quiet contemplations, leaving room to let their ruminations breathe.
Each character had quirks and charms that made me root for them, celebrate their wins, and grieve their losses. Interactions with lousy people made me go oh, come onnn, because some of the behaviors exhibited were so true to real life. It’s interesting to see these three women stand up for their beliefs instead of brushing off their experiences as nothing. Everyone deserves to feel loved! And safe! And heard!
It’s so interesting to see how each girl processes their emotions differently. Janet is more explosive and impulsive. Anna is more dreamy and pensive. Gemma is more timid and dejected. All three routes are valid. Not only that, but each character makes poor decisions at one point or another and learns from them. Well-rounded characters make for lovely realizations and hopeful outcomes.
I love a good crossover moment between multiple timelines, so if that’s something that you’re into, you’re going to like this story.
Overall, I found ALL OUR TOMORROWS to be insightful and empowering. You will find bits of yourself in each of these characters and their environments, which may hopefully remind you that you are not alone in this modern, terrifying world after all.
“Without the need to define herself, her edges could swell and expand like a sea, lapping past the borders of her existence. It was just as her mother had said: she was everything and no one. Everything to her mother, of course, and to herself—which was not selfishness but a necessity, because in the fullness of time, she was no one.
But right now, while she was still here, she didn’t want to be no one to the people around her.”