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hrjThis is a bit of a long review, an decidedly opinionated, so I figured I'd post it by itself. This is a contemporary celebrity romance where the non-celebrity character is asexual.
I feel self-conscious reviewing this book, because I can’t say that I read it with an entirely open mind and the concerns I had going in were confirmed. For years now, I’ve been seeing people promote Perfect Rhythm as their top pick for a story featuring an asexual lesbian and, I have to say, that grated on me, as an asexual lesbian myself, given that the own-voices books for that identity exist but are generally ignored. (Or get trashed for "not being a real romance.") But I thought I should read the book for myself to have an informed opinion. (This review will have spoilers eventually, so if you don’t want that, you can stop after the first paragraph.)
Perfect Rhythm is not a novel for asexual readers who are looking for representation. It’s a “very special episode” novel, intended to introduce the concepts of asexuality and aromanticism to allosexual readers who either have never encountered the idea before or who want a basic-level introduction. While there is a great deal of variation among asexual people, it’s important to keep in mind that the author choose this specific depiction for her protagonist to represent the concept and experience. Holly (the asexual protagonist) is not a unique real-life individual but is a fictional creation intended to represent the class. Given that, it’s very hard to ignore that the book goes through an entire shopping list of myths, misconceptions, and micro-aggressions about asexuality, evidently in the interests of being educational.
The inner monologues of both the allosexual protagonist (Leo) and the asexual protagonist (Holly) are repetitive and relentlessly focused around either the presence or absence of constant thoughts of sexual arousal. Maybe this is accurate for an allosexual person (I wouldn’t know), but I can assure you that the typical asexual person does not spend a significant amount of time thinking about not being sexually aroused.
Perhaps Leo’s attitude was meant to be depicted as hypocritical, but she simultaneously grouses about how people only see and want her as a sexy desirable rock-star pop icon, while at the same time her initial interactions with Holly are entirely focused around physical appearance and being turned on by incidental touches. If this was meant to be ironic, it was too subtle.
And the micro-aggressions. Oh my. Holly is subjected to the entire litany from other characters. Were you abused? Is it a medical problem? Is it a fetish? Maybe you haven’t met the right person yet. You’re missing out on the best part of loving someone. Aren’t you afraid of being alone all your life? Because, after all, no one will want to be with someone if they can’t have sex. There is one brief nod in Leo’s thoughts that she hoped she hadn’t said anything stupid along these lines, but no real acknowledgement that yes, she (and other characters) did say hurtful things that can’t all be excused away as “I was flustered and it’s all so new to me.” Not when the exact same things have been said to them about being a lesbian.
And in the end, Leo gets what she wants (a relationship involving sex) while Holly doesn’t get what she wants (a relationship in which sex isn’t on the table). But that’s ok because evidently Holly simply “hadn’t met the right woman yet” and once she did, the whole “if you really loved her, you’d have sex with her” thing won out. And this is supposed to be a positive asexual romance.
Other than that, this is a perfectly cromulent “celebrity returns to her small hometown, finds love, and decides she’ll give up her big city career for a chance to cuddle kittens and puppies regularly” romance. Although, as with the issue of sexuality, it turns out she can eat her cake and have it too, because her career is one that transfers painlessly to a small town setting. It must be nice to be Leo and not have to make any real sacrifices to get your HEA.
(There’s also a sub-plot about Leo’s rejecting and critical father who gets a post-mortem redemption when it turns out he was Leo’s biggest fan after all.)
So if you want a book that will give you the illusion that you understand asexuality while teaching you that an asexual girlfriend will still put out if she really, really loves you, this is the book for you. If you want a book with good asexual representation, move along.
# # #
This is my second experience with reading a book by Jae that is widely and vociferously praised, but where I found the story decidedly problematic. So at this point I'm just going to chalk it up to incompatible tastes.
I feel self-conscious reviewing this book, because I can’t say that I read it with an entirely open mind and the concerns I had going in were confirmed. For years now, I’ve been seeing people promote Perfect Rhythm as their top pick for a story featuring an asexual lesbian and, I have to say, that grated on me, as an asexual lesbian myself, given that the own-voices books for that identity exist but are generally ignored. (Or get trashed for "not being a real romance.") But I thought I should read the book for myself to have an informed opinion. (This review will have spoilers eventually, so if you don’t want that, you can stop after the first paragraph.)
Perfect Rhythm is not a novel for asexual readers who are looking for representation. It’s a “very special episode” novel, intended to introduce the concepts of asexuality and aromanticism to allosexual readers who either have never encountered the idea before or who want a basic-level introduction. While there is a great deal of variation among asexual people, it’s important to keep in mind that the author choose this specific depiction for her protagonist to represent the concept and experience. Holly (the asexual protagonist) is not a unique real-life individual but is a fictional creation intended to represent the class. Given that, it’s very hard to ignore that the book goes through an entire shopping list of myths, misconceptions, and micro-aggressions about asexuality, evidently in the interests of being educational.
The inner monologues of both the allosexual protagonist (Leo) and the asexual protagonist (Holly) are repetitive and relentlessly focused around either the presence or absence of constant thoughts of sexual arousal. Maybe this is accurate for an allosexual person (I wouldn’t know), but I can assure you that the typical asexual person does not spend a significant amount of time thinking about not being sexually aroused.
Perhaps Leo’s attitude was meant to be depicted as hypocritical, but she simultaneously grouses about how people only see and want her as a sexy desirable rock-star pop icon, while at the same time her initial interactions with Holly are entirely focused around physical appearance and being turned on by incidental touches. If this was meant to be ironic, it was too subtle.
And the micro-aggressions. Oh my. Holly is subjected to the entire litany from other characters. Were you abused? Is it a medical problem? Is it a fetish? Maybe you haven’t met the right person yet. You’re missing out on the best part of loving someone. Aren’t you afraid of being alone all your life? Because, after all, no one will want to be with someone if they can’t have sex. There is one brief nod in Leo’s thoughts that she hoped she hadn’t said anything stupid along these lines, but no real acknowledgement that yes, she (and other characters) did say hurtful things that can’t all be excused away as “I was flustered and it’s all so new to me.” Not when the exact same things have been said to them about being a lesbian.
And in the end, Leo gets what she wants (a relationship involving sex) while Holly doesn’t get what she wants (a relationship in which sex isn’t on the table). But that’s ok because evidently Holly simply “hadn’t met the right woman yet” and once she did, the whole “if you really loved her, you’d have sex with her” thing won out. And this is supposed to be a positive asexual romance.
Other than that, this is a perfectly cromulent “celebrity returns to her small hometown, finds love, and decides she’ll give up her big city career for a chance to cuddle kittens and puppies regularly” romance. Although, as with the issue of sexuality, it turns out she can eat her cake and have it too, because her career is one that transfers painlessly to a small town setting. It must be nice to be Leo and not have to make any real sacrifices to get your HEA.
(There’s also a sub-plot about Leo’s rejecting and critical father who gets a post-mortem redemption when it turns out he was Leo’s biggest fan after all.)
So if you want a book that will give you the illusion that you understand asexuality while teaching you that an asexual girlfriend will still put out if she really, really loves you, this is the book for you. If you want a book with good asexual representation, move along.
# # #
This is my second experience with reading a book by Jae that is widely and vociferously praised, but where I found the story decidedly problematic. So at this point I'm just going to chalk it up to incompatible tastes.
