The Brilliance of Book Clubs: A Follow-Up to The Merriest Misters

     Last week, I wrote a review for The Merriest Misters, and I plan on going back to that and amending it after this, but tonight I wanted to write a separate post talking about that book and the wonderful experience that book clubs bring. Namely, different perspectives. On Monday, the romance book club met to discuss The Merriest Misters, and we were joined (via zoom) by the author Timothy Janovsky himself. We had a great conversation and touched on many different things, a lot of them very important, but it especially brought to mind that I read this book with a very different perspective and bias than the author and, it turns out, quite a few people in the book club.

romance book club with author Timothy Janovsky

     Now, I will admit time and again that I am not primarily a romance reader, and I'm picky about the genre. So, as a result, I know that a lot of romance books aren't going to be "for me" for whatever reason. Additionally, since I'm not a big romance reader, the nuances of a well-written romance story may escape me, especially when the characters' story doesn't resemble my own experiences at all. I'm not talking romance-wise here (the complete lack of romance in my life would disqualify me from identifying with any romance character if that were the case) but rather life experiences based on race, gender, sexuality, ability, culture, family dynamic, and so on. I'm privileged in some ways (white, grew up in a two parent household until I was 15, fairly able-bodied at this point of my life) and not in others (a host of mental illnesses, queer, my father died when I was 15). I love reading and discussing books with others because they open me up to those other experiences that don't resemble my own, but sometimes I still get hung up on what I expect, with my experiences shaping my view.

    And that's the case with The Merriest Misters. Timothy, in our discussion, talked about how what queer relationships look like changed after marriage equality was passed; how queer relationships previously had been all sorts of configurations and were based on what worked for the relationship but suddenly, with the ability to be legally married, that was the "goal" that relationships strove for. And sure, some people in queer relationships wanted that before it was legalized, and some people in queer relationships still didn't marry, but the overall trend was towards marriage for various reasons. And a lot of those reasons were great! Not knocking marriage, but some people who never wanted to get married but were deeply in love were pressured with questions of when, now that it was legal, and it definitely caused a shift in queer culture in general.

    In the book, Patrick and Quinn both feel suffocated by the "expectations" that getting married has come with. Some of those expectations are pressures from themselves (Patrick buying a house because "it's what you do when you're married", cries in millennial), some are from family (Mrs. Hargrave assuming Quinn will fulfill the "wife" gender role of cooking and cleaning the house), and some are just from society in general. And they're miserable about it. Understandable! Their conclusion is to step away from the traditional marriage: instead of sharing a house, Patrick lives in the North Pole and Quinn lives in New Jersey, each following their own calling, and use a magic sleigh that can instantaneously transport them whenever they want to see each other. You know, as someone who would at the very least want a separate work room from a potential partner, a whole separate house doesn't sound bad if you can afford it (still crying in millennial). After hearing it explained in the book club discussion, I'm not as disappointed with this ending. I still think it's not really done well in the text (Quinn makes one comment near the end that "they never really wanted a traditional marriage anyway", but I feel like it's otherwise never stated or shown in the flashbacks), but I see where they're coming from.

    I'm a queer woman and I can't believe that I had to have the nuances of queer relationships and marriage explained to me. Or maybe I do believe it, because I've always been so not into marriage that I just assumed everyone who does get married obviously wanted it (I mean, coerced and abusive relationships notwithstanding). But society puts pressure on all of us! Ugh! Anyway, just one of those instances where my experiences might resemble the characters' (to an extent) but I still didn't see their perspective until it came up in a discussion. And this is why I love book clubs!

    I'm also feeling generous enough that I'll acquiesce my other gripe with the ending, particularly that I don't feel like this is a "happily ever after". I still don't, I still feel like they have a lot of work to do on actually communicating with each other... but I'll be happy to take this as "working towards their happily ever after." This is just the beginning of the rest of their relationship. They've recognized the issues and they still have to put in work to get through them, but they are trying.

    I think I'll bump this up to 3.5 stars. I still don't think it's a 4 star read for me, but 3.5 sounds good. It's not the type of romance book that's "for me"... but that doesn't make it bad.

    Anyway, the book club had a lot of other great discussion around this book, and this is why I go: I may not be the biggest romance fan, but the discussions are always enthusiastic, respectful, and interesting. We all value diverse representation, and the books selected reflect that (the next book, The Truth According to Ember by Danica Nava, is written by and features indigenous people of the Chickasaw Nation). I was also introduced to a new term that I hope to be using more in the future: I brought up how I loved that Blizzard was clearly written as a nonbinary character, the narrator (Quinn in this case) immediately used they/them pronouns and they flowed between gender presentation in their clothing, but it was never explicitly said, "Blizzard is a nonbinary elf." So Timothy taught me a new term: "casual inclusivity", and we talked about the importance of introducing everyone in the same manner so no identity is made to be an "other". (In the same vein, he introduces even white men as described: "Quinn, a white man".) This is something I'd praised but didn't know the name for, so I'm so happy to have a term for it now!

    My next review, however, will ABSOLUTELY be a rave, no conflicted feelings about it: I couldn't put down On the Plus Side by Jenny L. Howe, and I can't wait to talk about how I felt completely seen by this book and the character's struggles (spoilers: her weight isn't the struggle!).