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A review by marisacarpico
Conventionally Yours by Annabeth Albert
hopeful
lighthearted
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.75
A harsh rating perhaps, but I just can't round up.
This is classified as new-adult, but the writing and story I would put at no higher than YA. I felt alternately talked down to and pandered to by this book and found the whole reading experience frustrating for a number of reasons.
In terms of the pandering, I appreciate the desire to create characters who represent unique experiences, but something felt slickly calculated about it here. Alden's neurodivergence is drawn well, but I wonder how true to the various queer experiences this features it actually is. If felt either fetishizing or reductive to me. The characters are at the tail-end of college and yet they consistently felt like mid-teens. The queerness here didn't feel lived-in. I was particularly annoyed by the NB character, Payton, who feels like a plot device or extreme idea of queerness rather than a genuine attempt to depict a person. We all have a whacky friend, I suppose, but linking that to their gender identification felt almost insulting.
The book overall somehow feels both grossly over and under-written. Every character outside of Alden and Conrad feels thin to the point of parody. Ditto the actual plotting, which feels episodic in a way that would be fine in fan fiction, but here leaves the book feeling like an early draft. Indeed, the whole book is in desperate need of editing on various levels. Albert overexplains and repeats every emotional beat not just within chapters or acts, but often within the same conversation. She has a tendency to over-tell even as she's already showing and the book's pacing suffers greatly as a result. You could comfortably cut 150 pages from this and it would still probably need refinement in the plotting. She tends to overdo the characters' inner monologues to the point that beats feel telegraphed and therefore less satisfying than they ultimately should.
I suppose I wouldn't mind so much how much this handholds if it is really for YA readers except some of the messaging is troubling if so. The parental relationships here are meant to be difficult, but Albert doesn't handle them with much finesse or complex thought. While Alden learning to advocate for himself with his domineering mothers is fine if ham-fisted, the Conrad parental dynamic is messy. Albert suggests there's abuse there–certainly emotional and psychological–but she remains vague on whether Conrad's father may also be physically abusive.
That distinction wouldn't be so key if not for the somewhat bizarre choice near the end, when Conrad's big emotional breakthrough is to be angry with his mother for not fighting back against his father's bigotry. On one hand, he has a right to be angry, but it's odd that the mother suddenly becomes the locus of that hurt when she has also been victimized in some way too (this isn't an assumption, Conrad states this multiple times).
It's unclear whether Conrad just doesn't know the extent of what his mother's experienced or doesn't care, but neither scenario would make me want to allow an impressionable teen to read this. Albert's choice to not bother giving any character outside of the core duo internality or a genuine voice may unintentionally create this message, but, regardless of intention, the result of that choice is that Conrad's resentment of his mother seems more important than anger at his father. Perhaps we're supposed to inherently know that his feelings are unfair, but a young reader would likely not have a complex understanding of spousal/child abuse and would instead be led to victim blame here. Obviously, the situation is complex and there is no one person at fault, but Albert's careless writing seems to place blame decisively in a way that feels irresponsible.
And especially if that choice is intentional, it also feels untrue to real life. Conrad is shown repeatedly as someone with empathy and high emotional intelligence and in real life (certainly in the people I've known with similar or almost exactly the same situation), it frankly seems bizarre that he wouldn't extend that empathy to fellow abuse victims who happen to be his literal family. He would have grown up seeing the abuse they suffered as well, so it does not fit with his characterization that he would be so dismissive about it as an adult. If he were a teen maybe, that self-centeredness would make sense, but as a college-educated adult male, it leaves a bad taste to see the character completely ignore the abuse his mother and sisters would have experienced as well. He has an extra layer because of his queerness, but one doesn't trump the other.
Even if you ignore or forgive the poorly-handled parental abuse storyline, this is just a poorly-written, amateurish romance overall. The chemistry is never quite convincing and the storytelling and world-building are simplistic. This is a book for YA readers at best, but it's flaws far outweigh any benefits a queer teen might get from reading it.
This is classified as new-adult, but the writing and story I would put at no higher than YA. I felt alternately talked down to and pandered to by this book and found the whole reading experience frustrating for a number of reasons.
In terms of the pandering, I appreciate the desire to create characters who represent unique experiences, but something felt slickly calculated about it here. Alden's neurodivergence is drawn well, but I wonder how true to the various queer experiences this features it actually is. If felt either fetishizing or reductive to me. The characters are at the tail-end of college and yet they consistently felt like mid-teens. The queerness here didn't feel lived-in. I was particularly annoyed by the NB character, Payton, who feels like a plot device or extreme idea of queerness rather than a genuine attempt to depict a person. We all have a whacky friend, I suppose, but linking that to their gender identification felt almost insulting.
The book overall somehow feels both grossly over and under-written. Every character outside of Alden and Conrad feels thin to the point of parody. Ditto the actual plotting, which feels episodic in a way that would be fine in fan fiction, but here leaves the book feeling like an early draft. Indeed, the whole book is in desperate need of editing on various levels. Albert overexplains and repeats every emotional beat not just within chapters or acts, but often within the same conversation. She has a tendency to over-tell even as she's already showing and the book's pacing suffers greatly as a result. You could comfortably cut 150 pages from this and it would still probably need refinement in the plotting. She tends to overdo the characters' inner monologues to the point that beats feel telegraphed and therefore less satisfying than they ultimately should.
I suppose I wouldn't mind so much how much this handholds if it is really for YA readers except some of the messaging is troubling if so. The parental relationships here are meant to be difficult, but Albert doesn't handle them with much finesse or complex thought. While Alden learning to advocate for himself with his domineering mothers is fine if ham-fisted, the Conrad parental dynamic is messy. Albert suggests there's abuse there–certainly emotional and psychological–but she remains vague on whether Conrad's father may also be physically abusive.
That distinction wouldn't be so key if not for the somewhat bizarre choice near the end, when Conrad's big emotional breakthrough is to be angry with his mother for not fighting back against his father's bigotry. On one hand, he has a right to be angry, but it's odd that the mother suddenly becomes the locus of that hurt when she has also been victimized in some way too (this isn't an assumption, Conrad states this multiple times).
It's unclear whether Conrad just doesn't know the extent of what his mother's experienced or doesn't care, but neither scenario would make me want to allow an impressionable teen to read this. Albert's choice to not bother giving any character outside of the core duo internality or a genuine voice may unintentionally create this message, but, regardless of intention, the result of that choice is that Conrad's resentment of his mother seems more important than anger at his father. Perhaps we're supposed to inherently know that his feelings are unfair, but a young reader would likely not have a complex understanding of spousal/child abuse and would instead be led to victim blame here. Obviously, the situation is complex and there is no one person at fault, but Albert's careless writing seems to place blame decisively in a way that feels irresponsible.
And especially if that choice is intentional, it also feels untrue to real life. Conrad is shown repeatedly as someone with empathy and high emotional intelligence and in real life (certainly in the people I've known with similar or almost exactly the same situation), it frankly seems bizarre that he wouldn't extend that empathy to fellow abuse victims who happen to be his literal family. He would have grown up seeing the abuse they suffered as well, so it does not fit with his characterization that he would be so dismissive about it as an adult. If he were a teen maybe, that self-centeredness would make sense, but as a college-educated adult male, it leaves a bad taste to see the character completely ignore the abuse his mother and sisters would have experienced as well. He has an extra layer because of his queerness, but one doesn't trump the other.
Even if you ignore or forgive the poorly-handled parental abuse storyline, this is just a poorly-written, amateurish romance overall. The chemistry is never quite convincing and the storytelling and world-building are simplistic. This is a book for YA readers at best, but it's flaws far outweigh any benefits a queer teen might get from reading it.
Moderate: Homophobia
Minor: Domestic abuse