Thank you to NetGalley and Entangled for providing me with the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
To be frank, An Unexpected Kind of Love just isn't for me. I didn't care for either Aubrey or Blake as characters, their relationship never convinced me, and I expected a lot more from the setting. This novel has the tropes; it goes through the motions; but I'm left wishing for more animation. While the above is a matter of personal preference, the novel would have been greatly improved by much tighter editing, especially when it comes to redundant and overused words and sentences, bland and vague language, clunky exposition and dialogue, and at least one continuity error.
Elaboration of my thoughts below:
Aubrey Barnes is described both in the marketing copy and by his friends as grumpy, which here means awkward, insecure, and pretentious. Aubrey is the owner of an independent bookstore in Soho, London, and it's immediately clear that he doesn't just read books; he is a Book Reader. And he is a distillation of everything I hate about that category of person. He is so unbearably morally superior, disdainful of customers and friends alike for contravening his very Book Twitter-y opinions. He judges a customer for buying a ghost-written bestseller (I hate to break it to you, Aubrey, but you're the one selling it). He is disgusted by a set designer who buys several dozen (!!!) books as props for a film because... she wants them all to be green. He thinks setting an open book face-down is a crime. He is horrified when his employee shows more interest in the film adaptation of a book than in the book itself. There is, naturally, an obligatory rant against electronic books. He probably thinks that dog-earing and marginalia are vandalism.
But for all that he is a book purist, he doesn’t seem to care that much about books. Stories. Aubrey reads books for clout and treasures them as material artifacts, and is incidentally (or not) not very good at selling them. If unkempt glowering could kill, none of his customers would survive a transaction with him.
Being in Aubrey's head is boring. He thinks almost exclusively in simple sentences, which I generally quite like as a style, because when done well it can produce a really piercing, incisive narration. Aubrey's narrative voice is rather more monotonous. He has a limited, prosaic vocabulary, little immersion in the world around him, and infrequent depth to his thoughts. He's painfully self-involved and disinterested in other human beings: he doesn't even notice that Blake is more than a life-sized Ken doll until almost halfway through the book, and that's not hyperbole. He actually has a Realization that Blake has a past, a rich inner life, hopes and plans. It underscores the shallowness of his attraction to Blake and undermines the author's earlier attempts to generate intimacy between them. It doesn't help that at this point in the novel, Aubrey and Blake have only just finished having their first real conversation, in which they finally connect over something more tangible than legumes and photography: wanting their dads to be proud of them. Almost all of their earlier interactions I found to be bafflingly awkward and, though (inexplicably) sexually charged, devoid of tension.
What to say about Blake Sinclair? He's a self-described triple-threat performer. He's nice. He's just very blandly nice and sweet. Not really objectionable at all. It doesn’t help his lack of depth that Aubrey objectifies him to the exclusion of anything else for almost half of the book. And Blake is not even unaware of this! Even now I do not know what he finds compelling about Aubrey; he says "you're intriguing," or "you matter to me," but the why is missing, or at least subsumed by their weirdly urgent mutual lust. This goes for Aubrey, too: what exactly it is about Blake that makes him the first person after Eli that Aubrey actually wants to get close to? I actually found the conflict with Eli to be much more interesting than the rest of the romance plot, because his and Aubrey's established relationship and dynamic seemed to read more smoothly.
So this book is ostensibly set in Soho, and we know this because we are reminded of it every time Aubrey goes outside. It could totally be set in Soho, but it could also be literally any other district in London or another city entirely. What Aubrey shows us of Soho, other than the intense heat, the crowds of tourists, and the traffic always at a standstill—and we know all this too because Aubrey rattles off this list every time he goes out—is the post office, a new vegan restaurant, and various shops (photography, ice cream, coffee, ramen), all with a bare minimum of description. None of this is peculiar to Soho! It could be literally anywhere! What is the atmosphere, the energy of Soho? What does the air smell like? Who are the locals? What differentiates it from a blank piece of paper? If Soho is as central to the book as Aubrey's frequent invocations of it suggest, it needs to be more than a one-dimensional backdrop.
Because everything is described in the exact same way and called back to ad nauseam—from the first, Soho is hot and full of tourists; everything Blake does is devastating; Aubrey is always undone by him; everything they learn about each other becomes "new common ground"—there’s no sense of movement, no dynamism in the setting. The author gives a basic establishing shot but never follows through to deepen or complicate it. The heat in London is insisted upon often more than once per page, but rather than contributing to setting or atmosphere, giving events the impression of a fragile bubble outside of time, a tenuous barrier to reality, it makes the story flow like molasses. Sweat, flushed faces, shirts sticking to skin, the anodyne hint of a breeze—we don’t need to be told every time that there is a heatwave. And Blake devastates and undoes Aubrey with his looks and grins literally every time they are in a scene together. It is unclear why, other than Blake's generic hotness and willingness to be in Aubrey's proximity. But the sameness with which these recycled adjectives paint their interactions inhibits the development of romantic tension and any kind of momentum in their relationship.
There are hints of a good book throughout, especially in those moments when Aubrey's desperation for meaningful connection with another human being comes through.