I bought this book on a whim, when I had just minutes to choose a read that will save me from the long commute boredom. I loved the first lines of the blurb which made it sound like a lighthearted teen drama. And only after a little more than 100 pages in did I realise that I missed out on the few final but key words in the blurb – ‘fairytale horror’. Quite a departure from what an aggressively pink cover might suggest…

There were a few key moments in this book where I genuinely wondered what the heck I got myself into, instantly closed the book in shock just to pick it up again a moment later just to find out what would happen next. I would have told you without hesitation that this book is not my style just at the mention of the word ‘horror’ but then again what is even my style? This book is strange, uncomfortable and uneasy, dark and twisted, but equally fascinating, witty and funny.

Was I disappointed by the way in which the main character proved to be an unreliable narrator whose version of reality was heavily based on the use of (most likely) hallucinations? Of course I was. And did this book leave me with more questions than answers? Sadly it did. You almost have to stop trying to distinguish what’s real and what’s a psychotic episode, because it’s impossible and quite frankly exhausting as it takes away the whole fun.

But there were some true moments of genius in depicting the somewhat perverted nature of female friendship, the fight over power, the distorted balance of love and envy that so many teen dramas have been trying to portray since the beginning of times. And as someone who’s spent almost their whole adult life in academia, I couldn’t help but laugh and feel oddly vindicated at her mocking of the vague, post-rationalised, and more-often-than-not empty discussions centred around the Body, performing trauma and a whole bunch of other meaningless concepts. 

My favourite bit about this novel is how it remains true to its roots, all the way to the end. It’s a satire on the pretentiousness of creative writing and Ivy League settings, and it doesn’t take itself seriously at all. For instance, Awad gives ‘kill your darlings’ a very literal meaning. Of course the characters are all clichés of a cliché, likeable for how unlikeable they are, from the moody, lonely, too-cool-to-blend-in-but-really-just-awkward main character to the stereotypical ‘mean girls’, all so the same yet surprisingly different and enticing.

And quite frankly I’m dying for one of my friends to read this book so I can discuss it without any spoilers (because I don’t want to ruin anyone’s experience of a very, very enjoyable narrative). I would preempt my recommendation with a warning towards its weirdness of course, but if you’re looking for a better way to kill time than doom-scrolling, this book does a brilliant job at keeping you entertained. I devoured it far too quickly and it’s made me very curious to discover more of Awad’s writing.

In the absence of any friends to discuss this book with, I’ve read some great online reviews and my favourite has to be The Wallflower Digest.