If you played “Angsty Teen Girl Novel Bingo” with this book, you’d get Bingo within the first fifty pages. It’s all here: the insecure and lonely protagonist, the absent fathers, the drug and alcohol abuse, the self-harm, the miserable parties, the obsession with body image, the friends that drift apart. The narrative drags on and on as repetitive incidents occur over and over again; there’s little rising action or conflict, and the changes the protagonist undergoes aren’t quite distinct enough within the genre to merit this as a character-driven novel.
The parts where she gets drawn into the world of online sex work do depict an interesting perspective about the relationship between power and desire, and they call into question whether women really do experience power and agency while exploring their sexualities, or if the protagonist is simply too young and uneducated to have a healthy relationship with kinky sex, but in the rest of the narrative, nothing really notable or original happens, nothing striking enough to make this book stand out from the many others like it.
At one point, one of the protagonist’s friends has some kind of medical emergency while mixing drugs. I expected she’d die or go into a coma or something to raise the stakes of the narrative, but it just sort of happens, and nothing follows from it; the characters don’t have to reassess their reckless drug use, because there’s almost never real, lasting consequences for their actions.
The protagonist’s self-pity fills every page, and there’s no humour or stylistic ambition to make the self-pity bearable or interesting. But I know this book will sell relatively well in Canada, because everyone loves gawking at an edgy story about teen girls. It’s basically an industry at this point.
The author dedicates the book to her teenage self, which should tell you everything you need to know about this solipsistic chore of a novel.
(Also, if you’ll let me get nitpicky for a second, the amount of flashbacks and section breaks in this novel is insane.)