My god. This book was… not good. Maybe it was the too-familiar suburban references outside of Vancouver (I grew up there and despite the familiarity, it made me cringe and nauseous at times), the ableist (and yet aware of ableism!?) debate over keeping a neurodivergeng baby or not, the rampant fatphobia and general shallow-mindedness throughout, or the veiled racism slipped in here and there that seemed to go unchallenged even by the Indian characters. It could also have been the flatness and lack of depth of arguably every character, or the way the author tried to fit about a thousand issues into a 300-page novel, somehow making all of them eye-roll-worthy in their lack of complexity.
And then there were the conversations between characters that somehow made no sense with the story and yet filled pages, whereas moments that (at least I felt) deserved to be fleshed out and detailed, were rushed over. Not to mention the editing of this book was bad, so many simple errors (using “their” instead of “they’re”?! REALLY??).
Anyway. The premise wasn’t bad, which is why I picked up the book in the first place, and the only reason I didn’t give this a single star. With more maturity as a writer and a better editor, this book could have been good. But as it is, this story was a full-on mess and truly fell apart before it could properly come together. And the cover art is great, but truly one of its only redeeming qualities.