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A review by perpetualpages
Rise to the Sun by Leah Johnson
adventurous
challenging
emotional
funny
hopeful
lighthearted
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
CWs: references to mass shootings and gun violence; loss of a parent and grief; trauma, anxiety, PTSD, and panic attacks; asthma attacks; some exploration of public slut shaming and online harassment
Once again, Leah Johnson writes an unforgettable story that is emotionally evocative, powerful, and cathartic. Rise to the Sun is definitely not a book I would classify as a "rom-com," but it does have a strong romantic subplot while still largely being a story about healing, self-discovery, and learning to be unafraid.
While You Should See Me in a Crown is often billed as a "cutesy, fluffy queer rom-com," I think people often forget that it's also a story that tackles really complex topics like racism, homophobia, privilege, classism, and even chronic illness. While I don't think the two books should be compared because they're fundamentally different, I also think it's important to acknowledge that Rise to the Sun does more of same, but perhaps with even more emotional stakes.
What I really appreciate about this story is about how it centers two queer Black girls who are deeply flawed, and the story allows them to *be* flawed and make mistakes. The story understands that there are so many reasons why Black girls, especially, don't allow themselves to experience joy, how they're expected to meet unspoken and unreasonable standards of behavior in order to be "deserving" of that joy, which only further keeps it out of reach.
Olivia and Toni are deeply imperfect. Olivia is self-centered, impulsive, constantly prioritizing romance over any other type of relationship, and she will go to great lengths to avoid the issues in her life at all costs. Toni is still grieving the death of her father, she's insecure and uncertain about her path in life, she's keeps herself emotionally distant and is really bad about giving people chances. While it may seem like these two are far from a perfect match, their flaws and their behavioral tendencies challenge the other person, and they're both able to grow *because* of that discomfort.
And most importantly, their relationship shows the reader that you don't need to be perfect in order to be worthy of love; love—of any kind—is not something that you only get to have once you stop making mistakes. Rise to the Sun is a story that says, "You deserve the kind of love where you are seen in your totality, not just for the pieces of yourself that are smallest and easiest to process."
I also appreciate how this backdrop of a summer music festival could've easily been this fun, inconsequential setting incorporated for the sake of novelty, but the story manages to balance a sense of adventure and excitement while also addressing the real-world issues that come into play. Specifically, this story explores gun violence and mass shootings, which I think is a sadly necessary conversation to have, especially for stories like this taking place in the United States, where gun violence poses a very real threat to any kind of widely-attended event or experience. Especially if you're a person of color, that's something that's always on your mind, and you're constantly questioning how you balance being present and being visible with possibly unknowingly putting yourself in a space that's dangerous. So again, it kind of goes back to that question of learning to be unafraid and trying to figure out how you pursue joy and experience joy knowing that joy is indefinite and precious.
I also love how this story is so fast-paced. It definitely has a compressed timeline with the festival only lasting three days, and because of that "ticking clock," the characters are really trying to make the most of each and every moment. There's really no downtime in this story; the characters are constantly being pushed forward by the jam-packed schedule of the festival, which creates both a sense of anticipation and also tension between the characters as they realize the festival is coming to a close. It's a really effective structural device for the story, and it's a big part of why I felt so incredibly invested in both the event and the characters.
And the way this story showcases music—both literally and as metaphor—is so incredibly special. It's hard for written prose to capture the energy, electricity, and power of music, especially live music, because words and sound seem so completely unrelated on the surface. But Leah Johnson is really able to make you *feel* the energy of music and its emotional resonance through her writing alone, and I think that's a truly remarkable feat. Music as a metaphor also comes up quite a bit as the relationship between Toni and Olivia deepens, and even though comparing romance to song is somewhat of a cliche, Johnson is able to make it feel powerful, and earnest, and fresh.
Ultimately, I once again felt an immense sense of gratitude for Leah Johnson after finishing this book. It's a story that's so clearly written from a place of love, and that is so evidently a love letter to queer Black girls, specifically. In these pages, Leah tells those readers: "You are worthy of the time it takes to figure yourself out and you deserve grace when it comes to not knowing. You are allowed to be imperfect. You deserve happiness for the sake of happiness." It's such a worthy message that comes across with so much care and nuance, and I once again just feel thankful that her work exists and that so many more people will get a chance to experience this story and internalize that message for themselves.
Once again, Leah Johnson writes an unforgettable story that is emotionally evocative, powerful, and cathartic. Rise to the Sun is definitely not a book I would classify as a "rom-com," but it does have a strong romantic subplot while still largely being a story about healing, self-discovery, and learning to be unafraid.
While You Should See Me in a Crown is often billed as a "cutesy, fluffy queer rom-com," I think people often forget that it's also a story that tackles really complex topics like racism, homophobia, privilege, classism, and even chronic illness. While I don't think the two books should be compared because they're fundamentally different, I also think it's important to acknowledge that Rise to the Sun does more of same, but perhaps with even more emotional stakes.
What I really appreciate about this story is about how it centers two queer Black girls who are deeply flawed, and the story allows them to *be* flawed and make mistakes. The story understands that there are so many reasons why Black girls, especially, don't allow themselves to experience joy, how they're expected to meet unspoken and unreasonable standards of behavior in order to be "deserving" of that joy, which only further keeps it out of reach.
Olivia and Toni are deeply imperfect. Olivia is self-centered, impulsive, constantly prioritizing romance over any other type of relationship, and she will go to great lengths to avoid the issues in her life at all costs. Toni is still grieving the death of her father, she's insecure and uncertain about her path in life, she's keeps herself emotionally distant and is really bad about giving people chances. While it may seem like these two are far from a perfect match, their flaws and their behavioral tendencies challenge the other person, and they're both able to grow *because* of that discomfort.
And most importantly, their relationship shows the reader that you don't need to be perfect in order to be worthy of love; love—of any kind—is not something that you only get to have once you stop making mistakes. Rise to the Sun is a story that says, "You deserve the kind of love where you are seen in your totality, not just for the pieces of yourself that are smallest and easiest to process."
I also appreciate how this backdrop of a summer music festival could've easily been this fun, inconsequential setting incorporated for the sake of novelty, but the story manages to balance a sense of adventure and excitement while also addressing the real-world issues that come into play. Specifically, this story explores gun violence and mass shootings, which I think is a sadly necessary conversation to have, especially for stories like this taking place in the United States, where gun violence poses a very real threat to any kind of widely-attended event or experience. Especially if you're a person of color, that's something that's always on your mind, and you're constantly questioning how you balance being present and being visible with possibly unknowingly putting yourself in a space that's dangerous. So again, it kind of goes back to that question of learning to be unafraid and trying to figure out how you pursue joy and experience joy knowing that joy is indefinite and precious.
I also love how this story is so fast-paced. It definitely has a compressed timeline with the festival only lasting three days, and because of that "ticking clock," the characters are really trying to make the most of each and every moment. There's really no downtime in this story; the characters are constantly being pushed forward by the jam-packed schedule of the festival, which creates both a sense of anticipation and also tension between the characters as they realize the festival is coming to a close. It's a really effective structural device for the story, and it's a big part of why I felt so incredibly invested in both the event and the characters.
And the way this story showcases music—both literally and as metaphor—is so incredibly special. It's hard for written prose to capture the energy, electricity, and power of music, especially live music, because words and sound seem so completely unrelated on the surface. But Leah Johnson is really able to make you *feel* the energy of music and its emotional resonance through her writing alone, and I think that's a truly remarkable feat. Music as a metaphor also comes up quite a bit as the relationship between Toni and Olivia deepens, and even though comparing romance to song is somewhat of a cliche, Johnson is able to make it feel powerful, and earnest, and fresh.
Ultimately, I once again felt an immense sense of gratitude for Leah Johnson after finishing this book. It's a story that's so clearly written from a place of love, and that is so evidently a love letter to queer Black girls, specifically. In these pages, Leah tells those readers: "You are worthy of the time it takes to figure yourself out and you deserve grace when it comes to not knowing. You are allowed to be imperfect. You deserve happiness for the sake of happiness." It's such a worthy message that comes across with so much care and nuance, and I once again just feel thankful that her work exists and that so many more people will get a chance to experience this story and internalize that message for themselves.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Panic attacks/disorders, Grief, and Death of parent
Minor: Gun violence and Mass/school shootings