I feel the need to preface this review with the caveat that my low star rating is not because of the subject matter covered by the novel, but because of the novel's execution. In fact, the concept of a story about a woman contemplating a child-free existence was what drew me to the novel, despite my concerns about Gannon residing in a circle that includes Dolly Alderton, Pandora Sykes, and Daisy Buchanan (all good podcasters and terrible novelists), as well as Marian Keyes and Louise O’Neill (great writers with abysmal reading tastes)*.
*This is going by their consistency in reviewing mediocre-to-astonishingly-bad books with universally positive – indeed glowing – epithets. Now, there’s a whole other essay to be written on how your outlook changes – at least in public – when you become a writer with writer friends. Certainly, if Emma Gannon was my friend, the strongest move I would make against her work is to damn it with faint praise. However, Gannon is not my friend, she is not a good writer, and this is not a good book.
There is literally no part of the craft needed to create a novel on show here. The structure is flimsy. The plot is a series of events happening with no cohesion or unity. Each character is the same character, split into several bodies, all with interchangeable personalities and dialogue. On a sentence level, the writing is shockingly poor, to the point where I questioned Gannon’s ability to cut it as a journalist, never mind a novelist.
“Yeah okay.”
“You do look a bit tired my love.”
There are so many examples of missing commas, which, if you have any sensitivity to how a sentence flows, is incredibly jarring. And it makes the writing read like a high schooler’s first fiction essay.
“ ‘That must have been scary?’ I ask, chomping on another biscuit.”
Someone must have sent a chain email to all these ‘TELL NEVER SHOW’ women’s fiction writers about the use of small actions to break up your dialogue beats. Here is how NOT to do that. You could not possibly sound invested in the scary thing you’re being told while ‘chomping’ on a biscuit. In fact, you’d only use that verb, and this action beat, if you wanted to convey a distinct lack of interest on the part of the speaking character. However, this is Olive supposedly at her most alert and supportive. This is what I mean by ‘shockingly poor’: Gannon just doesn’t know what words do.
In terms of characters, there’s Olive, who’s a dick, and her friends, who are slightly different and blander flavours of dick. There’s some antagonists, like Cyril, who arrive on the scene just to be taken down by Olive in a dick move that’s framed as an Empowering Feminist Moment. Mostly, people just exist in this book to teach you a lesson about something Gannon Googled five minutes ago.
“I’m slightly blindsided. […] I’d somehow put Dorothy into a small box of tradition and convention. It’s just what I’d associate with her generation. […] But I suppose it goes to show, people can surprise you all the time. There doesn’t have to be one given path for everyone.”
Wow, thanks for hammering home that moral. Would you like to borrow Mjölnir* and beat it into my head some more, just in case I missed your Big Point?
*Joke. As if Gannon would be able to lift Mjölnir.
Oh, and there’s also several episodes of her repeating a really noticeable word like ‘annoyingly’ or ‘gently’ twice in the space of a page. Is your line editor DEAD?
There are also several points where Olive as narrator just comes across as monumentally stupid. I cannot think that this is on purpose, for two reasons: 1) it is just not what most writers aim for, especially in commercial fiction and 2) I can’t give Gannon credit for trying to pull a ‘The Idiot’ style move with her POV character. Here are some of the more egregious examples:
Olive, a woman of thirty-three in 2019, still smokes.
Pursuant to that, she also VAPES.
Pursuant to that, her dentist has told her off for smoking because it stains her teeth, and this is the thing that sticks. Her dentist. HER DENTIST.
“I also used to think that people were actually stacked on top of each other during University Challenge - it’s actually just edited that way.”
What even is this sentence.
“My ankle drips [blood] over my bath mat and I stick some tissue to it because – surprise surprise, adult that I am – I have no plasters in the house.”
I mean. Plasters aren’t, like, a Smeg fridge or something. They’re two euro a packet in Boots, you could just buy some literally any time, Olive.
“Yes, [Olivia]’s technically my full name on my birth certificate, but I hate it. I am Olive.”
I honestly don’t know what’s hilariously dumber, the fact that she’s picking a ‘true’ name that’s one letter different from her given name, or that the name she gloms on to like it’s some amazing elf star princess title is Olive. Olive. As in, the little green fruit that tastes of vomit. Which, consistently, is exactly what reading this book feels like.
“It’s called Blue Assassin, and centres around a kidnapped dolphin: Splash with a dark twist.”
Except that Splash isn’t about dolphins OR kidnapping? So, what the fuck, please?
“ ‘What normally happens at a baby shower then?’ I whisper to Bea. I almost feel like I’ve paid money to be here, and I want a performance.”
This is, and I cannot stress this enough, an utterly insane response to have to baby showers, and a nonsensical question from a person with a phone in their hand at all times.
“[…] drink a latte from a paper cuyp, which is kind of gross but it’s sustainable and blah-blah.”
Leaving aside for a minute that Olive sounds like a baby-boomer, not a Millennial, what has she been drinking from that’s not a paper cup? Is she wistful for the days of Styrofoam?
Olive boasts of having feminist credentials – in an early scene, she snaps at someone to turn off R. Kelly because he’s a sexual abuser. Later on, however, she says things like:
“Her boobs are suspiciously high up and unmoving.”
… suspiciously? As in, they’re fake? And you find it suspicious that she’s … pretending they’re not? Except I think this character is fully aware that her boobs look too perfect to be natural. Isn’t that surely, say, the point of getting a boob job? I dunno, I feel it’s more feminist to just not comment on people’s boobs, suspicious or otherwise.
And lest we forget, Olive and Jacob’s meet-cute occurs when she takes a creepshot of him in his place of work and posts it online to a forum for objectifying men reading books. This is treated as cute and romantic, instead of a horrifying breakage of boundaries. That being said, if it were treated with sensitivity and consideration, you could sell me on a romance where one half does that to the other half … but not if you didn’t at least provide a better acknowledgement of how deeply dodgy it is than “admittedly it was a strange way of us ‘breaking the ice’”. I SHOULD FUCKING SAY, OLIVE.
When it comes to the child-free aspect of the novel – its pseudo-notorious selling point, no doubt – I think I’ve made it clear that Olive isn’t the kind of protagonist you want on your side. Then again, I’m not sure Gannon as a writer is someone I want on my side, as a child-free person. (‘Child-free by choice’ is a phrase I find risible, because it’s redundant. If you’re ‘child-free not by choice’ you’re childless, so you can keep the old name. ‘Child-free’ does exactly what it says on the tin.) She paints everyone in stark shades of black and white, yet she seems conflicted in her own message. Olive attends a child-free event where a big advocate of the child-free lifestyle announces her pregnancy onstage. Um, what? Olive goes on rants about child-rearing at baby showers and at her friend who’s struggling with IVF, which doesn’t exactly shower her in legitimacy. And Olive ends the book as a mother: a step-mother, sure, but a very involved one who’s a surrogate for the children’s dead biological mother. If the book was supposed to be about how you don’t have to squeeze infants out of your vagina to earn the appellation ‘mother’, then that is the book Gannon should have written. Olive is not the child-free heroine I wanted, and she sure as fuck isn’t the one I deserve.