ephermeyal's review
4.0
We are human. Absolutely everything else is negotiable.
I didn't expect that ending and it added so more depth to the novel :oo. I really appreciate how the author didn't shy away from the societal issues this book also touches upon.
etbmusic's review
dark
emotional
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
Content Warnings
Moderate: Sexual assault and Sexual violence
rogue007's review
3.0
I bought this book some time ago but only got around to reading it now. I do that with books. RUsh out to buy them and once I do, I become a literary Smeagol; stroking and admiring my unread books and whispering 'my precious'. I'm a tad disappointed with how this book began and ended. It seemed the story kicked off and then sex. I would've liked more time to work up it the act, get to know the characters first, so I could care about what happens to them. There's lots of sex in this book, but not enough plot. Almost every chapter, someone was getting their moan on. Don't get me wrong the scenes were well written. Shira struck me as a overly emotional crybaby, Jean; adorable man child and Sebastian, a mysterious bad boy. The ending came out of nowhere and left me wondering what was the point of it all. I didn't get the emotional outpouring of grief and anger the situation warranted. The story ended abruptly.
ixat's review
4.0
This had a big effect on me the first time I read it, in its unfinished form online. It depicts an utterly sweet threesome, in a way that just makes me want to sit and hug myself.
I'm taking off one star because I found the ending to be something of a let-down
I'm taking off one star because I found the ending to be something of a let-down
apostrophen's review
4.0
I read this one for Erotica Revealed.
Shira’s best gay pal Jean is partnered with the handsome – and a bit too suave – Sebastian. Shira has made peace with the fact that she’s got a crush (if not outright love) going on for Jean, and takes her singleness more or less in stride, right up until the moment when the two invite her to come back home with them and watch them have sex.
This begins Remittance Girl’s Beautiful Losers and sets quite a bit of the tone for the whole book – which is to say that so much of this book is these three people – gay, straight, male, female, many nuanced shades of in between – wondering if it’s possible for the three of them to make it work, whatever “it” might be.
Shira’s an interesting voice for the story in that she begins from – and, to some degree, maintains – a vantage of “closer to normal” than the other characters. She’s less experienced, yes, but she’s also a lot more mainstream than she’d likely wish to believe. A three-way relationship isn’t something she even really considers until it’s spelled out to her, and when Sebastian talks to her about someone being “sub” she doesn’t get what he means. This “one step removed” voice works for the novella, providing a good intermediary for the a reader to feel their own concerns (if any) with the various snarls and tangles that are evoked by the ongoing evolution of the relationship the three are entering. Shira consistently struggles with understanding what she might want, and Sebastian isn’t shy in telling her what he’d like her to want. Jean sometimes falls by the wayside, as the dynamic between Shira and Sebastian has more drama and sexual tension to it. But Jean isn’t reduced to a minor character by any means – for all that Shira is erotically attached to Sebastian, it’s Jean who has her heart. Her point of view for the majority of the two hundred pages is one of entropy – Shira doesn’t stock much faith in this relationship working. That struck me as a wonderfully realistic point of view for her – after all, Jean is gay. She’s a woman. This is a major conflict for her, and the progression of Shira’s world views are intriguing.
I’ve said all this and I’ve not really touched on the erotic content or style yet – believe me, it’s there. Remittance Girl’s style is nearly languid, but can switch to a more frenetic pace at the drop of a hat. Sebastian is generally the driving force – though there are rare and welcome moments with Shira taking a more active role – and the roles, like the sexuality and gender, aren’t always defined. Many a scene, role, and activity are played out in Beautiful Losers, and they’re all done well. There’s some bondage; anal features centrally from a plot point of view; and some scenes with chocolate are bound to make the mouth water, just to mention a few.
That said, there are a few trigger warnings to note – there are characters here with child abuse histories, and there were times – and one moment in particular – where I found Sebastian a bit forceful when Shira’s responses to his requests are less than “yes.” Sebastian comes across as controlling, and he is a dom, but there was a conversation about Shira needing to shave herself where I found myself leaning a bit away from the book. Sebastian grew a little less enjoyable for me when his response to “No fucking way!” was to simply grow more forceful.
On the shallower side, if you’re not a fan of the Goth style, there might be a struggle for you here and there, since the characters are decidedly that, and much of the descriptive colour is painted in these tones for the characters – nail polish, dark lipstick, a relentless fight against the normal. It’s not particularly a look or style I personally enjoy, so I had to suspend some disbelief to stay alongside Shira and fall in lust with how a particular shade of dark cherry lipstick made someone look. These are minor qualms though, and they’re my own. In no way does it make the characters less sensual or their interactions less erotic, and I’d be hard-pressed to call it a flaw.
And there are times where that gothic flavor really does add to the fun moments of the book. I had a few laugh-out-loud moments at turns of phrases or moments that spun from the gothic make-up or propensity for the colour black. Characters offering thankful prayers to Liploc after particularly sloppy kisses, or a bemused Shira wondering where Sebastian would have found a beautiful black blanket – perhaps knitted by a group of lovely old ladies who had fallen to the dark side?
Remittance Girl spins lovely prose, dancing between more guttural language and some truly memorable turns of phrase – I liked that Shira’s voice is so different from Sebastian’s and Jean’s, and that the dialog between them deftly revealed character. The events of the book are set at a near breakneck pace – the men setting the tempo very much, and Shira’s frustration at not being given time to decompress and process is vividly portrayed. The guys don’t want to wait; Shira is much less sure. The revelations that offer stumbling blocks for each of them in turn feel all the more painful for their headlong race. They – and the reader – aren’t often offered a place to catch a breath, which suits the tale perfectly. These characters are overwhelmed by their feelings and their attempts to stave off the societal pressure that they feel to fit what they have into some sort of label or easily defended status. Shira and Jean, especially, suffer here, and the events that knock them off balance ring true.
If you’re looking for a well-written and erotic coupling of two men and a woman, I think you’d be hard pressed to find many tales as nuanced as Beautiful Losers. Like the three characters themselves, it’s not a simple, nor straightforward, relationship. I put the book down a little bit stunned, since of all the things I expected the ending might be, turned out to be wrong. It was not remotely something I’d foreseen (that’s not a criticism) and the story percolated in my head for a long time after. It’s not often that I have that reaction – this story made me think and really had me examining some beliefs, and that is always a good thing.
Shira’s best gay pal Jean is partnered with the handsome – and a bit too suave – Sebastian. Shira has made peace with the fact that she’s got a crush (if not outright love) going on for Jean, and takes her singleness more or less in stride, right up until the moment when the two invite her to come back home with them and watch them have sex.
This begins Remittance Girl’s Beautiful Losers and sets quite a bit of the tone for the whole book – which is to say that so much of this book is these three people – gay, straight, male, female, many nuanced shades of in between – wondering if it’s possible for the three of them to make it work, whatever “it” might be.
Shira’s an interesting voice for the story in that she begins from – and, to some degree, maintains – a vantage of “closer to normal” than the other characters. She’s less experienced, yes, but she’s also a lot more mainstream than she’d likely wish to believe. A three-way relationship isn’t something she even really considers until it’s spelled out to her, and when Sebastian talks to her about someone being “sub” she doesn’t get what he means. This “one step removed” voice works for the novella, providing a good intermediary for the a reader to feel their own concerns (if any) with the various snarls and tangles that are evoked by the ongoing evolution of the relationship the three are entering. Shira consistently struggles with understanding what she might want, and Sebastian isn’t shy in telling her what he’d like her to want. Jean sometimes falls by the wayside, as the dynamic between Shira and Sebastian has more drama and sexual tension to it. But Jean isn’t reduced to a minor character by any means – for all that Shira is erotically attached to Sebastian, it’s Jean who has her heart. Her point of view for the majority of the two hundred pages is one of entropy – Shira doesn’t stock much faith in this relationship working. That struck me as a wonderfully realistic point of view for her – after all, Jean is gay. She’s a woman. This is a major conflict for her, and the progression of Shira’s world views are intriguing.
I’ve said all this and I’ve not really touched on the erotic content or style yet – believe me, it’s there. Remittance Girl’s style is nearly languid, but can switch to a more frenetic pace at the drop of a hat. Sebastian is generally the driving force – though there are rare and welcome moments with Shira taking a more active role – and the roles, like the sexuality and gender, aren’t always defined. Many a scene, role, and activity are played out in Beautiful Losers, and they’re all done well. There’s some bondage; anal features centrally from a plot point of view; and some scenes with chocolate are bound to make the mouth water, just to mention a few.
That said, there are a few trigger warnings to note – there are characters here with child abuse histories, and there were times – and one moment in particular – where I found Sebastian a bit forceful when Shira’s responses to his requests are less than “yes.” Sebastian comes across as controlling, and he is a dom, but there was a conversation about Shira needing to shave herself where I found myself leaning a bit away from the book. Sebastian grew a little less enjoyable for me when his response to “No fucking way!” was to simply grow more forceful.
On the shallower side, if you’re not a fan of the Goth style, there might be a struggle for you here and there, since the characters are decidedly that, and much of the descriptive colour is painted in these tones for the characters – nail polish, dark lipstick, a relentless fight against the normal. It’s not particularly a look or style I personally enjoy, so I had to suspend some disbelief to stay alongside Shira and fall in lust with how a particular shade of dark cherry lipstick made someone look. These are minor qualms though, and they’re my own. In no way does it make the characters less sensual or their interactions less erotic, and I’d be hard-pressed to call it a flaw.
And there are times where that gothic flavor really does add to the fun moments of the book. I had a few laugh-out-loud moments at turns of phrases or moments that spun from the gothic make-up or propensity for the colour black. Characters offering thankful prayers to Liploc after particularly sloppy kisses, or a bemused Shira wondering where Sebastian would have found a beautiful black blanket – perhaps knitted by a group of lovely old ladies who had fallen to the dark side?
Remittance Girl spins lovely prose, dancing between more guttural language and some truly memorable turns of phrase – I liked that Shira’s voice is so different from Sebastian’s and Jean’s, and that the dialog between them deftly revealed character. The events of the book are set at a near breakneck pace – the men setting the tempo very much, and Shira’s frustration at not being given time to decompress and process is vividly portrayed. The guys don’t want to wait; Shira is much less sure. The revelations that offer stumbling blocks for each of them in turn feel all the more painful for their headlong race. They – and the reader – aren’t often offered a place to catch a breath, which suits the tale perfectly. These characters are overwhelmed by their feelings and their attempts to stave off the societal pressure that they feel to fit what they have into some sort of label or easily defended status. Shira and Jean, especially, suffer here, and the events that knock them off balance ring true.
If you’re looking for a well-written and erotic coupling of two men and a woman, I think you’d be hard pressed to find many tales as nuanced as Beautiful Losers. Like the three characters themselves, it’s not a simple, nor straightforward, relationship. I put the book down a little bit stunned, since of all the things I expected the ending might be, turned out to be wrong. It was not remotely something I’d foreseen (that’s not a criticism) and the story percolated in my head for a long time after. It’s not often that I have that reaction – this story made me think and really had me examining some beliefs, and that is always a good thing.
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