Julia Whelan - Thank You For Listening

I've been trying to work out why I find some books thoroughly enjoyable yet forgettable at the same time. Julia Whelan's Thank You for Listening is one of them. 

Well I hope you don't let my indictment put you off, because it's an excellent piece of writing. The book follows Sewanee Chester, a former actress-turned-audiobook narrator (following a disfiguring accident) as she comes to terms with her new reality. Vis-a-vis, of course, a love interest.

Unlike most other "general fiction" books I've read, most of the characters and relationships have been thoughtfully fleshed out, making Sewanee's world actually believable. And, it pains me to say this, but it's also a rare romance where the love interest is an actual character, not just some dickhead hunk filling up doorframes. I liked his backstory, too. For obviously autobiographical reasons I have a thing for beta types who haven't really applied themselves to anything they care about.

Anyway. The merits of this novel go beyond characterisation and dialogue (including texting banter, which when overdone can be annoying, cf. Emily Henry's Book Lovers. The textinv is really good here). 

Julia Whelan has also woven in a metafiction narrative about book publishing! Every chapter is named after a romance/women's fiction trope and the characters (who work in audiobook publishing after all) are aware of the tropes that are playing out in their lives.

It's full of Easter eggs for book nerds. My favourite ones are the epigraphs before each chapter, where macho/mysterious artist quotes from dead white male writers (Hemingway, etc.) are juxtaposed against takedowns from the fictional romance writer-legend, June French.

So why does it not stick? I think this puzzle reveals something about my taste in books and why I read. In order for something to stick I need parasols and reticules, ciphers in the newspapers, horse carriages, train rides, "the game is afoot", sentient ships, some kind of human-animal hybrids, tea and toast racks... in other words some sort of exotica that transports me into a frillier universe. So I read to travel. And when a book doesn't transport me too far from reality, it doesn't stick no matter how enjoyable.