These Violent Delights

“These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey

Is loathsome in his own deliciousness

And in the taste confounds the appetite.

Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;

Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.”

― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

In 1970s Pittsburgh, against a backdrop of screaming injustice and cynical indifference, two college boys meet—and disaster ensues. What begins as a childish yet all-too-familiar infatuation with each other quickly spirals into something far more sinister.

Micah Nemerever’s debut novel paints the picture of a teenage gay relationship that feels uncomfortably similar to own lived experiences. When you grow up in isolation, constantly aware of a deeply rooted otherness within you—something that alienates, threatens, and is itself always under threat—clinging too tightly to your first love feels almost inevitable. Too great is the fear of losing your newfound happiness, too important the (brittle) foundation upon which you can finally find stability and a sense of belonging.

“There’s this idea in psychoanalysis that I’ve always liked.” Julian pulled himself closer and rested his head in the crook of Paul’s arm. “It’s that what we call ‘love’ is actually letting your identity fill in around the shape of the other person—you love someone by defining yourself against them. It says loss hurts because there’s nothing holding that part of you in place anymore. But your outline still holds, and it keeps holding. The thing you shaped yourself into by loving them, you never stop being that. The marks are permanent, so the idea of the person you loved is permanent, too.”

Desperate to fill in this shape, yet neither of them ever feeling like they are enough, Paul Fleischer and Julian Fromme’s love spirals into a terrifying obsession.

“These Violent Delights” is beautifully written and paced, always hurtling toward inevitable doom and culminating in a devastating conclusion. This is a thriller steeped in heavy themes, with a clear motif echoed in every chapter. I strongly recommend checking the trigger warnings at the top of this page before diving in.

A five-star book that will stay with me for a long time.

“It always makes me a little sad when you laugh," Julian went on. "The way it sort of takes you by surprise. I love it, it has that sweet sincerity that's the best part of you, but it still kills me how you never seem to expect it. All I want to do is make you happy, and you're the unhappiest person I've ever met.”