Critical Corner: The Book of Love

A lot of things about The Book of Love seem primed to make a casual reader put it firmly back on the shelf without another thought. The title seems more akin to a self-help book you’d buy after a rocky break-up. It is a debut novel, albeit one by a Pulitzer finalist and acclaimed short story writer. The premise – three teenagers suddenly come back from the dead and are pitted against each other in a magical competition by their music teacher – feels at best like YA, and at worst, Harry Potter fanfic. All of this on top of the length (600 pages, hardly The Luminaries but not a quick read) don’t endear itself to even a more-than-casual reader.

I’m saying all of this right up top to now say that The Book of Love is a novel I would recommend to anybody. Yes, it is modern fantasy. Yes, the protagonists are teenagers who are more worldly, more aware, and more verbose than any teenager in your memory. Yes, it is longer than most books you will probably read this year. It is also a gorgeously profound and imaginative read, wildly earnest and full-hearted, wickedly funny and soulful, all in equal parts. I devoured it in one read, and it was only my ever-increasing pile of books to read that stopped me from starting it over again immediately.

The three protagonists at the heart of The Book of Love sound like casting briefs for a teen drama. We’ve got Laura, the barely closeted rock band geek who is jealous of her more outgoing sister, Susannah. We’ve got Mo, the not-at-all closeted kid of colour with a famous author for grandmother. Then we’ve got Daniel, who is for all intents and purposes the jock of the trio, but mostly referred to being taller than everybody else and not especially intelligent. They return to their town of Lovesend – a lot of Link’s names are on-the-nose, unashamedly so – to find that in the minds of everybody else they aren’t returning from ther afterlife, they’re returning from a year in Ireland. Their one-time music teacher informs them that they have the ability to use magic, and a limited amount of time to figure out what it is going on.

The premise unspools from there to become wider, but never truly unwieldy. The Book of Love is a story of ancient lovers, doomed to one existence but reaching for another. It’s a story of teenagers ambling through daily stresses while the fate of the world rests on their shoulders. It’s the story of delusion in battle with reality. It’s a story of messy friendships and messier family. It is many books in one, which makes the fact that each chapter starts with “the Book of [X]” quite fitting.

The most impressive thing that Link does with The Book of Love is balance tone, form and content perfectly. “Modern fantasy”, through no fault of its own, generates a lot of assumptions of overused tropes and well-trodden cliches. Incantations existing amongst iPhones, things of that nature. Even as someone who loves fantasy, the idea of setting out to read a modern fantasy novel feels too much akin to watching someone LARP in the park; why mix two worlds? Link, however, skates across all of these. It shouldn’t be surprising, but it turns out that having a great command of the craft and the desire to imaginatively interrogate genre is a way through any trepidation that a reader might have.

All of which to say is that even when Link seems to be losing control of her narrative, she proves herself to be in full control of it. Repeated words and concepts are repeated for a reason; it’s so we don’t lose track of them amongst the near dozen point of view characters. Her omniscient narration winks at you every now and then, describing a character in ways that only an author who loves her characters can. At least once a chapter – once a book – she’ll stop to drop a bombshell like this:

“Magic, like grief, could come welling up. The difference was how grief slammed into you without any kind of ceremony or invitation. Magic you could use. Grief just used you up.”

Or, more simply:

“Bigger things, engaged in their own affairs, their own concerns, never notice when in consequence smaller things are made to suffer.”

It would be all too easy for her protagonists – articulate, hyper-aware and snarky teenagers – to be insufferable. Buffy came to mind, as did True Blood. Thankfully, Link has such a way with dialogue that every laugh line is like a starter gun, moving the plot and characters forward with such momentum. Even if some characters become harder to invest in than others over the length of the novel, they all contribute to the bigger picture. Life is not full of people you love, but people you understand. Link commits to the latter of these, and its an immense credit to her that it works.

I love a lot of books. It’s why I read as much as I do. But to fall completely in love with a book is rare for me. However, it’s hard not to fall in love with something that is so unashamedly what it is. The Book of Love doesn’t just earn all of its 600 pages. It earns being as earnest, as ridiculous, as imaginative, and frankly, wildly silly as it is. Hell, it even earns that title.

Other Things I’ve Consumed

• At the recommendation of a friend, I watched the Australian series, Mr. Inbetween, about a fairly low-rent hitman making his way through life. It’s pretty great if you can get past the, um, varied symphony of Australian accents on display. It also has the best score I’ve heard on TV in ages, which you can listen to here, if moody TV scores are your thing.)
• I feel like the last person in the world to watch this show, but Shogun is exactly as great as everybody is saying and you should watch it. (Anna Sawai in particular is a revelation, and very deserving of every award that has come her way.)
• Moonchild Sanelly’s new album, Full Moon, has lowered my heart rate, cleared my skin and immeasurably improved my 2025 already. HIghly recommend.
• Laid, a comedy about a woman whose exes are all dying, is a chance to see Stephanie Hsu have fun and say fast-paced dialogue, which is a lot more than many shows can say for themselves.

Self-Promo

• I have a show coming up in Auckland! More details to come, but it’s called From Another Woman and it runs at Basement Theatre from February 27 - March 1.

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