Honey Girl

Honey Girl is the kind of book that somehow seems to take itself far too seriously and not enough. It is rote with flowery, indulgent language to tell its story of a drunken Vegas wedding and a young woman adrift in a life of high expectations. It is also littered with quirky side characters seemingly taken straight out of a CW drama, complete with pop culture references and startlingly honest witticisms. Also, it kind of turns into an extended therapy session in the last 60 pages or so.

Grace Porter is the high-achieving daughter of a strict military father who, after finishing her doctorate in astronomy, finds herself at a loss for where to go next. The feeling of completing her father's plan for her isn't enough, the jobs dominated by pretentious white scientists are not enough. So, naturally, she goes to Vegas and gets herself drunkenly married to a stranger. As one does. Unable to hold it together after going home again, Grace gets in touch with her mythical wife, Yuki, goes out to New York to spend the summer with her, and maybe even falls in love with her. But even still, there's the question - is it enough?

Grace Porter is one of those main characters that only vaguely resembles a real life person. I mean, the inspiration is clearly there. I've known high achievers and military brats in my life. I actually knew someone who abandoned their doctorate in physics and astronomy when they realized the pressure was not worth it. They made chocolates at a bakery for a while afterward (now they work in UX). But Grace never reminded me of any of them. Maybe it's because we're meeting her in the middle of a breakdown, but there's little conception of the strictly controlled, meticulously put-together woman that is supposed to be coming apart here. Instead, Grace comes off as extremely fragile. Admittedly, it's difficult to write about someone losing it without it coming off as contrived, but from her Vegas wedding (I don't drink, so I don't even know what it's like to be that inebriated) to her skin-picking, it all felt like things that were tacked onto this character. The claim by her father and others that Grace frequently “runs away” when things get hard was particularly frustrating because at no point was it mentioned that she had a history of this (only that her mother does). Besides, spending a summer in New York after completing your doctorate is far from running away. It's just getting a different perspective.

The events that play out in Honey Girl are of course maximized for drama and entertainment, but there is something deeply indulgent about this book. It reminded of fan fiction, actually, and considering the premise (“drunken Vegas wedding” is right up there with “pretending to date” and “there's only one bed”) I wouldn't be surprised if it had its roots there. It reminded me of being a teenage girl and imagining what my life in my twenties would look like - I would have friends that I would gush with love for, lovers I would speak in poetry to, a life that had all the overly witty dialogue and quirkiness of the teen dramas I saw on TV. As I actually came into adulthood, I realized that not only was this ridiculous, but I didn't even really want any of that. I don't think Morgan Rogers came to the same conclusion. The relationships between Grace and her two best friends, Agnes and Ximena, and the family she works with at a tea shop were borderline nausea-inducing. No one actually talks to their friends like this, no one takes referring to their friends as “siblings” that seriously. And the fact that she has these deeply intense bonds with these people is probably why the introduction of the idea in the third act of the book that she abandons relationships for her ambitions comes so out of left field for me.

Yuki Yamamoto is one of things I liked about this book. When she arrives its like the whole story seems to just relax. She's that different perspective the book needed (though her fixation on monsters and mythical beasts is probably another allegory that this story didn't really need). All the dialogue that between Grace and her besties, stepmom and coworkers felt so try-hard, just suddenly seemed to flow when it was just Grace and Yuki. I'm not sure what it was exactly, maybe Rogers had a better concept in her mind of Yuki as a character than the others. Even in all her strangeness, Yuki felt very real. That said, I wish I could have known a little more about what brought Grace and Yuki together in the first place. The flowery language of the opening prologue was pretty, but I wish it had at some point unraveled to show a real woman who found an escape in another. The story in general flows better when Grace is in New York, even if the conflicts between Yuki and Grace don't entirely make sense (marrying someone with a doctorate is a bit like marrying someone in the military - you have to be prepared to bounce around the country a bit). I didn't necessarily feel their chemistry or love, I think I was interested in what being around Yuki revealed about Grace.

This book is a weird 3 stars for me, and is perhaps closer to a 2.5. Not because it is a middling achievement, but because it has some solid moments and some borderline disastrous ones. I came very close to abandoning it in the first 50-60 pages, worried that I would have to put up with a whole book of characters talking in absurd poetry at each other. Thankfully, the lyrical nature of the prose does taper off after a while. But the fact there's so much effort put into wit that isn't even funny, characters with all these details but don't seem remotely realistic, make this book seem really rough and amateurish. Honey Girl does have its charm, and I like to think there is a place in the world for contemporary lesbian romances with such indulgent flourishes and contrived narrative devices. Clearly, this type of work has an audience. I think I'm just looking for something more grounded.