Scan barcode
A review by oitb
Not Over Yet by Amber Belldene
4.0
This is a 3.5, but I'm rounding up. This is one of the most interesting books I've read from a new-to-me author whose writing style really works for me, so I'm definitely going through more of her backlist. That said, while there were many aspects of the book that I loved, there were simultaneously a lot of plot issues that prevented this book from being better overall.
The premise is that Lily Yee and Eric Roche had a short but intense relationship while she was working as an au pair for his daughters, but Lily decided to end the relationship to pursue a seminary education. Three years later, Lily shows up again to ask for financial help from Eric (who is mondo rich) and there are various external plot things that force them to be in each other's lives again.
I REALLY loved the conflict that the author wrote for the heroine — this idea that she has a lot of expectations foisted onto her because she's a woman and a woman of color, and she felt suffocated by the burdens of others. So she decides to pursue religion because that's the thing that she can claim for herself. This is an incredibly relatable conflict and one that is ripe for exploration.
Eric, on the other hand, is motivated by an intense need for love because he never got any affection or care from his parents, and deals with a lifetime of rejection by acting out on the people around him (he has anger issues) and frets desperately not to come across as needy, which he thinks makes him unloveable. That's a really interesting conflict to explore and one that I feel is deeply moving.
But where I had a lot of issues with the book is that when Lily reenters Eric's life three years after their breakup, the way they both tried to work on their individual hangups didn't work. It's like they were trying to communicate their own needs but the other person wasn't picking up what they were putting down. Eric is still so gutted by Lily leaving him that it kind of colors every interaction he has with her in the present, when I feel like he has enough emotional fortitude to just hear her say, "I really needed to do this thing for myself, but now I've grown." Similarly, Lily's insistence that there's no way she can be a priest and anything else at the same time almost felt pathological to me at a certain point — dogma for the sake of dogma.
The "lessons" for Lily and Eric are that it's okay to rely on other people, and not every separation is a deep rejection of who you are as a person. But the "getting there" for both people was filled with extraneous plot that I felt the author included for the sake of having plot, when the best and strongest parts of the book were the introspection and interactions between the two characters. There was no need for the evil ex, the extremely clunky bits of "racism as viewed by a white author writing about POC," and everything else, really. The part of the story that triggered the marriage of convenience in the last third of the book felt incredibly unnecessary because it feels like a cop out: As a reader, you want Lily to have come to the conclusion that she wants Eric and his family in her life through her own volition and her deciding that this is right for her; not because the marriage came first and then she shifts her worldview to fit the current circumstances.
Finally, my biggest gripe with the book is how Lily comes to an epiphany about work, gender, and identity. By having her come to the realization that she can be "messy" and imperfect through marriage and the inheritance of two stepchildren — and having the church's parishioners "accept" her, the book ends on a very regressive note, despite being a fairly progressive story for most of the book. You have this strong, independent heroine who fears being swallowed by gender expectations, only to have the book's lesson be, "actually, only through traditional femininity will you be accepted by other people," or "your messiness as a human is okay, as long as you conform in other traditional ways." Which! Bugs! Me! A! Lot!!!!! This just proves that her fears were valid from the very beginning and that there isn't oom for her to just be herself and do the work that she loves without operating under the shield of patriarchy first. And that's a bad misstep from an otherwise excellent book.
The premise is that Lily Yee and Eric Roche had a short but intense relationship while she was working as an au pair for his daughters, but Lily decided to end the relationship to pursue a seminary education. Three years later, Lily shows up again to ask for financial help from Eric (who is mondo rich) and there are various external plot things that force them to be in each other's lives again.
I REALLY loved the conflict that the author wrote for the heroine — this idea that she has a lot of expectations foisted onto her because she's a woman and a woman of color, and she felt suffocated by the burdens of others. So she decides to pursue religion because that's the thing that she can claim for herself. This is an incredibly relatable conflict and one that is ripe for exploration.
Eric, on the other hand, is motivated by an intense need for love because he never got any affection or care from his parents, and deals with a lifetime of rejection by acting out on the people around him (he has anger issues) and frets desperately not to come across as needy, which he thinks makes him unloveable. That's a really interesting conflict to explore and one that I feel is deeply moving.
But where I had a lot of issues with the book is that when Lily reenters Eric's life three years after their breakup, the way they both tried to work on their individual hangups didn't work. It's like they were trying to communicate their own needs but the other person wasn't picking up what they were putting down. Eric is still so gutted by Lily leaving him that it kind of colors every interaction he has with her in the present, when I feel like he has enough emotional fortitude to just hear her say, "I really needed to do this thing for myself, but now I've grown." Similarly, Lily's insistence that there's no way she can be a priest and anything else at the same time almost felt pathological to me at a certain point — dogma for the sake of dogma.
The "lessons" for Lily and Eric are that it's okay to rely on other people, and not every separation is a deep rejection of who you are as a person. But the "getting there" for both people was filled with extraneous plot that I felt the author included for the sake of having plot, when the best and strongest parts of the book were the introspection and interactions between the two characters. There was no need for the evil ex, the extremely clunky bits of "racism as viewed by a white author writing about POC," and everything else, really. The part of the story that triggered the marriage of convenience in the last third of the book felt incredibly unnecessary because it feels like a cop out: As a reader, you want Lily to have come to the conclusion that she wants Eric and his family in her life through her own volition and her deciding that this is right for her; not because the marriage came first and then she shifts her worldview to fit the current circumstances.
Finally, my biggest gripe with the book is how Lily comes to an epiphany about work, gender, and identity. By having her come to the realization that she can be "messy" and imperfect through marriage and the inheritance of two stepchildren — and having the church's parishioners "accept" her, the book ends on a very regressive note, despite being a fairly progressive story for most of the book. You have this strong, independent heroine who fears being swallowed by gender expectations, only to have the book's lesson be, "actually, only through traditional femininity will you be accepted by other people," or "your messiness as a human is okay, as long as you conform in other traditional ways." Which! Bugs! Me! A! Lot!!!!! This just proves that her fears were valid from the very beginning and that there isn't oom for her to just be herself and do the work that she loves without operating under the shield of patriarchy first. And that's a bad misstep from an otherwise excellent book.