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Paperback
Published August 28, 2025
I’m sitting in that uncomfortable middle space with this one.
Because I can see exactly what Tia Fisher is trying to do in Not Going to Plan. And I don’t think it fully works.
That’s frustrating, because parts are good. The writing is clean, accessible, and the verse style carries you quickly, almost too quickly at times. This is the kind of book a reluctant reader will actually finish. And the friendship? Chef's kiss. Marnie and Zed shouldn’t work on paper, and yet they do in that awkward, uneven way teenage friendships often do. There’s something sincere there. I also appreciated the thread of art, that quiet attempt to make sense of yourself through creating something. And the resources at the end felt thoughtful and genuinely useful.
But this book feels… thin.
Not in length. In depth. The characters don’t quite become people. They hover as types. The wild girl. The awkward nerd. The pushy Christian. The gay best friend. They are positioned more than they are developed, and because of that, when the story leans into something complex, there isn’t enough weight underneath it to hold it.
The second thing that stayed with me is the lack of growth. Marnie doesn’t meaningfully reflect on what led her here. The drinking, the choices, the lack of boundaries, it all feels brushed past. By the end, when she talks about wanting to go to Ibiza, I found myself wondering what, if anything, had actually shifted in her. Even smaller details, like the casual vaping, add to that sense of weightlessness. For a story built on something so serious, it doesn’t feel like it carries the full consequence of it.
And that’s the tension at the heart of this book.
It wants to handle something complex, but it simplifies it too much. It wants to say something important, but narrows the lens until other perspectives almost disappear.
I didn’t hate it. There is care here. There is intention. There are moments of warmth, especially in the friendship. But I couldn’t fully stand with it.
For me, this sits firmly in a 16+ space, and even then it’s a book I’d want to be discussed, not simply consumed. Especially in a Christian or Catholic context, where the portrayal here will feel not just limited, but sidelined.
If you are a librarian in a Catholic school, this is one to pre-read carefully before purchasing, to assess whether it aligns with your school’s ethos.
2★