

When I picked up Summer Solstice, I was looking for something light, a quiet coming of age story about two boys finding each other and what that means for both of them. In some ways, Patrick Shawn delivers exactly that. In others, the book gets in its own way.
Nicholas recently moved to Provincetown. There's something about his new neighbor, Ethan, that he can't quite put his finger on. As time goes on, emotions start to flow into something sweet, the slow and hesitant kind that comes when feelings outpace what you're ready to admit. The story takes the time to let those first moments breathe, giving this new relationship room to turn into something real.
What starts as a light and tender story has a harder edge underneath it. Ethan's fear of who he is and what it could cost him has been there from the beginning, but the back half is where the story stops holding back. It goes to some pretty heavy places, and not always smoothly. That unevenness has a source.
The narrator's voice is part of it. Rather than the dual POV most coming of age romance readers are used to, the story keeps you at a certain distance, and not always in a way that serves it. Combined with scene transitions that can be abrupt and disorienting, it sometimes pulls you out of moments that deserve more room to land. The emotional instincts are there. The execution needed more work.
At its heart, Summer Solstice is a story worth telling, and there were moments I genuinely enjoyed. I just found myself wishing the writing hadn't gotten in the way of it as often as it did.
When I picked up Summer Solstice, I was looking for something light, a quiet coming of age story about two boys finding each other and what that means for both of them. In some ways, Patrick Shawn delivers exactly that. In others, the book gets in its own way.
Nicholas recently moved to Provincetown. There's something about his new neighbor, Ethan, that he can't quite put his finger on. As time goes on, emotions start to flow into something sweet, the slow and hesitant kind that comes when feelings outpace what you're ready to admit. The story takes the time to let those first moments breathe, giving this new relationship room to turn into something real.
What starts as a light and tender story has a harder edge underneath it. Ethan's fear of who he is and what it could cost him has been there from the beginning, but the back half is where the story stops holding back. It goes to some pretty heavy places, and not always smoothly. That unevenness has a source.
The narrator's voice is part of it. Rather than the dual POV most coming of age romance readers are used to, the story keeps you at a certain distance, and not always in a way that serves it. Combined with scene transitions that can be abrupt and disorienting, it sometimes pulls you out of moments that deserve more room to land. The emotional instincts are there. The execution needed more work.
At its heart, Summer Solstice is a story worth telling, and there were moments I genuinely enjoyed. I just found myself wishing the writing hadn't gotten in the way of it as often as it did.