Oof. This book.
Look, I wanted to like it, tried so hard to like it, but it was a mess from start to finish. I made my first negative note on page one but kept reading. I have, after all, enjoyed this author before (four stars for When Grumpy Met Sunshine!), and I trusted that my perseverance would be rewarded.
It was not.
So, back to that page one note—Hazel recaps a date with “the last decent-seeming guy” she went out with, but nothing she describes indicates decency, and we are never given a reason why she even agreed to the date. Nor is there any indication that that man, or any other man she mentions throughout the novel, baited-and-switched her. Not once do we see “fakers who use the idea of being nice as some kind of currency” luring her in with a Nice Guy routine. It’s more that her default is something like, ‘Welp, I guess all guys are asshats, so I must date asshats.’
And maybe this rough start would’ve faded from my memory if Hazel’s backstory were more fully developed, but it isn’t. We’re given a smidgen of parental toxicity, but it’s too sparse and superficial to justify her behaviors and decisions—including her decision to rename and then un-rename herself, a gimmick the book didn’t need.
Then there’s Beck. Let me be clear: he is a caricature, not a character.
I’m going to limit myself to the costume choices made on behalf of this over-the-top cinnamon-roll MMC (which means I’m not even going to get into the whole Ned Flanders/Ted Lasso speech-pattern thing, except to say that it was such a lazy way illustrate his naiveté). But Beck’s bow ties, suspenders, and long johns—followed by his complete style change for the writing retreat? It doesn’t make sense, and it certainly doesn’t help flesh out a believable character. Think about it for a minute—a big deal is made about Beck wearing long johns, “the kind that connect with a top.” They get four mentions early in the book. Seems important, right? Like maybe the long johns, or his preference for them over underwear, illustrate an aspect of Beck’s inner world. Except that they are never mentioned again. Instead, we see him don “really, really tiny shorts,” “seventies shorts,” to lead the retreat. Um, really? I get that I’m overthinking this, but let’s face it—there is no world in which it’s cold enough to merit long johns one day and warm enough to casually switch to too-short shorts and a thin t-shirt days later. It doesn’t make sense for character development or for how humans actually live in the world.
Another thing that doesn’t make sense is that nobody ever asks about Hazel’s non-American accent. I mean, Beck is American, and he tells people that his “wife” isn’t with him because she’s “stuck in the US.” Seems like maybe she’s American, too, right? But when Hazel, a native Englander, impulsively introduces herself as Beck’s suddenly-in-London wife, nobody questions it? Are you kidding me?
The last thing I’m going to mention is the banter. It isn’t good. It pains me to say this since it’s one of the things I loved in When Grumpy Met Sunshine, but it too often feels forced and pointless in this book. I had to scan backward several times even to make sense of some of the back-and-forth between Hazel and Beck. Imagine my disappointment when I put in that effort only to find that they didn’t really say anything.
And don’t even get me started on the impossible Scrabble game.
My Big Fat Fake Marriage could have been good. It could have been a light and witty rom-com that nevertheless managed to say something incisive about virginity and self-worth. But it isn't, and it didn't.
[I received an ARC of this title in exchange for an honest review.]