hc.newton
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
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The tears on Cherry’s cheeks were fat.
In the months after Tom left—and the months after it became clear that he wasn’t coming home—Cherry’s tears had changed.
There were days when her eyes felt so full, the tears ran in rivulets. She’d swear that crying had never felt that way before—that before, she’d cried drops, and now, she cried streams. There must be some science to it, one sort of crying for transient pains and another sort for crippling grief.
What’s Cherry Baby About?
Cherry is a pretty successful marketer in Omaha; her husband was in advertising and did a little webcomic in his spare time. It was semi-autobiographical and had almost no followers. At some point, around the time that they started to see each other, a new character, “Baby” enters the cast (unbeknownst to her). Sometime after that, Tom’s comic caught fire. It was published in book form—and optioned as a film.
Now Tom is in L.A. working on the movie, and Cherry—along with his dog—are still in Omaha. Cherry and Tom are getting a divorce. And Cherry isn’t taking it well.
She’s in full-grieving mode. A few months in, she treats herself. Tom hated concerts, she’s always loved them, and one of her all-time favorite bands will be doing a show in town. So she goes, anticipating a pick-me-up. While there, Cherry runs into Russ—a friend from college. Russ isn’t “the one who got away.” But he is the big “what if” question in her life.
Apparently, the feeling was mutual. Even better, Russ hasn’t read Tom’s comic and knows nothing about it. He’s probably the only person in Omaha who doesn’t connect Cherry and Baby (even her family equates them, which Cherry hates). What could be better?
A solid meet-again-cute. A woman in need of a fresh start. A guy who is almost perfect. What could be better?
Fat Girl Life
A fat girl can’t wait for boys to pluck her like a flower or find her on the beach like a seashell.
Cherry had never been Cinderella. She’d always been the prince chasing down what she wanted. (She’d been a witch, enchanting apples.) She’d had to reach for things. For love. For attention.
Cherry has had nothing but Fat Girl Summers her whole life. And the other three seasons, too. She’s fat—she tells us this from the outset. Her mother and her sisters are, too. It’s not due to laziness, overeating (not that any of them are shy about eating, however), lack of exercise, sedentary lifestyles, or whatever. It’s a genetic thing; their family is just fat. And they’re all okay with it.
Well, they’re more than okay with it. Not quite proud of it, but unashamed is the better word.
And the fastest way to get on Cherry’s bad side is to imply there’s something wrong with it. She’s pretty (possibly more than pretty, it’s hard to judge from the way it’s presented), charming, fun, caring, and fat. In her eyes, she’s the whole package.
And it’s really hard to argue with her (if you wanted to).
This, obviously, has shaped her life—it’s not easy for Fat Girls/Women/Boys/Men in the U.S. She accepts it, realizes how it molded her personality and expectations—but thanks to her mothers and sisters, she’s been able to gain the level of confidence that she can get through it. Not unscathed, but whole.
The Proverbial Door is Ajar
Granted, it’s been a while since I read Rowell—but this is a bit, ahem, spicier than I appreciate. Definitely more than I’m used to with her. The door does close—eventually—on the sex scenes, but it stays open a lot longer than I think it needed to (or opens earlier than it needs to).
But that’s a matter of taste, I realize. And I’m not trying to put down Rowell here, I think I get why she made the decisions she did in this regard. But I’m not suggesting this book to my mother, sister, or daughter (but I wouldn’t discourage their reading it, either).
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I picked this up because I really enjoy Rowell’s writing (well, I couldn’t make myself pay attention to the fan fiction bits of Fangirl, so I didn’t read the spin-offs, but otherwise…), and I was glad to get a chance to read her again.
I stuck with it because I really liked Cherry and got invested in her life. Also, Rowell’s voice and tone is just so comfortable, there’s no reason to think about stopping.
I’m sure there’s a better way to put it—but comfortable is better than cozy, which I keep using. There’s a warmth, a humanity, and a little bit of humor—and so much heart. You just want to keep reading, no matter what’s happening (or isn’t happening.)
What does this book tell us about humanity?
I think this book has a lot to say about the need to love and the need to be loved—as you are and as the object of your love is. Not as you want them to be, not as they were, but as they are (although as they were does play a role)—and the same for you. Loved as you are, for who you are.
Not just romantic love, either. There’s friend love and family love, too. The book focuses on romantic love, but family love comes in second.
The depictions aren’t always pretty—in fact, in this book, many of them are messy and nasty, with a great sense of “it shouldn’t be like that.”
So, what did I think about Cherry Baby?
Cherry had trusted Tom. She’d taken him for granted—she’d thought that she was supposed to. She’d believed they were a settled question.
Cherry’s family is a nice, vaguely Lutheran, group who want four things for Cherry: 1. to be happy; 2. to get back together with Tom; 3. failing that, to start dating this nice man from their church; and 4. to come back to church (there’s a not-at-all-subtle link between 3 and 4). They’re a loving, close family, but really don’t get what makes Cherry tick. Still, their interactions—in person or in group chats is one of the many, many highlights of the book.
Stevie, Tom’s dog, is another one. She’s a Newfoundland-Great Pyrenees mix, and the cause of a huge increase in lint/hair rollers in Cherry’s budget. She was more dog than Cherry was ready for when Tom got her. And then when he left, the two only had each other. And a great bond was made. Stevie’s chaotic energy is wonderful. And one scene (spoiler: the dog lives) with the two of them toward the end of the book, just about broke me.
The rest of the book is just great. Once we meet Tom (in the book’s present), you understand why Cherry loves him—and why it’s so hard for her to be going through this period. When we see him at the beginning of their relationship, you have a hard time believing they’d go wrong. The romance with Russ could be just the thing to keep her afloat in this dark period in her life—and you can see it working.
But like that one guy said, the course of love never did run smooth. And some roads are bumpier than others. With sharp drop-offs to either side. And maybe some snow.
Still, Cherry’s the kind of person you want to watch navigate that course—so you can root for her, cheer for her, and maybe weep with her.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
The tears on Cherry’s cheeks were fat.
In the months after Tom left—and the months after it became clear that he wasn’t coming home—Cherry’s tears had changed.
There were days when her eyes felt so full, the tears ran in rivulets. She’d swear that crying had never felt that way before—that before, she’d cried drops, and now, she cried streams. There must be some science to it, one sort of crying for transient pains and another sort for crippling grief.
What’s Cherry Baby About?
Cherry is a pretty successful marketer in Omaha; her husband was in advertising and did a little webcomic in his spare time. It was semi-autobiographical and had almost no followers. At some point, around the time that they started to see each other, a new character, “Baby” enters the cast (unbeknownst to her). Sometime after that, Tom’s comic caught fire. It was published in book form—and optioned as a film.
Now Tom is in L.A. working on the movie, and Cherry—along with his dog—are still in Omaha. Cherry and Tom are getting a divorce. And Cherry isn’t taking it well.
She’s in full-grieving mode. A few months in, she treats herself. Tom hated concerts, she’s always loved them, and one of her all-time favorite bands will be doing a show in town. So she goes, anticipating a pick-me-up. While there, Cherry runs into Russ—a friend from college. Russ isn’t “the one who got away.” But he is the big “what if” question in her life.
Apparently, the feeling was mutual. Even better, Russ hasn’t read Tom’s comic and knows nothing about it. He’s probably the only person in Omaha who doesn’t connect Cherry and Baby (even her family equates them, which Cherry hates). What could be better?
A solid meet-again-cute. A woman in need of a fresh start. A guy who is almost perfect. What could be better?
Fat Girl Life
A fat girl can’t wait for boys to pluck her like a flower or find her on the beach like a seashell.
Cherry had never been Cinderella. She’d always been the prince chasing down what she wanted. (She’d been a witch, enchanting apples.) She’d had to reach for things. For love. For attention.
Cherry has had nothing but Fat Girl Summers her whole life. And the other three seasons, too. She’s fat—she tells us this from the outset. Her mother and her sisters are, too. It’s not due to laziness, overeating (not that any of them are shy about eating, however), lack of exercise, sedentary lifestyles, or whatever. It’s a genetic thing; their family is just fat. And they’re all okay with it.
Well, they’re more than okay with it. Not quite proud of it, but unashamed is the better word.
And the fastest way to get on Cherry’s bad side is to imply there’s something wrong with it. She’s pretty (possibly more than pretty, it’s hard to judge from the way it’s presented), charming, fun, caring, and fat. In her eyes, she’s the whole package.
And it’s really hard to argue with her (if you wanted to).
This, obviously, has shaped her life—it’s not easy for Fat Girls/Women/Boys/Men in the U.S. She accepts it, realizes how it molded her personality and expectations—but thanks to her mothers and sisters, she’s been able to gain the level of confidence that she can get through it. Not unscathed, but whole.
The Proverbial Door is Ajar
Granted, it’s been a while since I read Rowell—but this is a bit, ahem, spicier than I appreciate. Definitely more than I’m used to with her. The door does close—eventually—on the sex scenes, but it stays open a lot longer than I think it needed to (or opens earlier than it needs to).
But that’s a matter of taste, I realize. And I’m not trying to put down Rowell here, I think I get why she made the decisions she did in this regard. But I’m not suggesting this book to my mother, sister, or daughter (but I wouldn’t discourage their reading it, either).
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I picked this up because I really enjoy Rowell’s writing (well, I couldn’t make myself pay attention to the fan fiction bits of Fangirl, so I didn’t read the spin-offs, but otherwise…), and I was glad to get a chance to read her again.
I stuck with it because I really liked Cherry and got invested in her life. Also, Rowell’s voice and tone is just so comfortable, there’s no reason to think about stopping.
I’m sure there’s a better way to put it—but comfortable is better than cozy, which I keep using. There’s a warmth, a humanity, and a little bit of humor—and so much heart. You just want to keep reading, no matter what’s happening (or isn’t happening.)
What does this book tell us about humanity?
I think this book has a lot to say about the need to love and the need to be loved—as you are and as the object of your love is. Not as you want them to be, not as they were, but as they are (although as they were does play a role)—and the same for you. Loved as you are, for who you are.
Not just romantic love, either. There’s friend love and family love, too. The book focuses on romantic love, but family love comes in second.
The depictions aren’t always pretty—in fact, in this book, many of them are messy and nasty, with a great sense of “it shouldn’t be like that.”
So, what did I think about Cherry Baby?
Cherry had trusted Tom. She’d taken him for granted—she’d thought that she was supposed to. She’d believed they were a settled question.
Cherry’s family is a nice, vaguely Lutheran, group who want four things for Cherry: 1. to be happy; 2. to get back together with Tom; 3. failing that, to start dating this nice man from their church; and 4. to come back to church (there’s a not-at-all-subtle link between 3 and 4). They’re a loving, close family, but really don’t get what makes Cherry tick. Still, their interactions—in person or in group chats is one of the many, many highlights of the book.
Stevie, Tom’s dog, is another one. She’s a Newfoundland-Great Pyrenees mix, and the cause of a huge increase in lint/hair rollers in Cherry’s budget. She was more dog than Cherry was ready for when Tom got her. And then when he left, the two only had each other. And a great bond was made. Stevie’s chaotic energy is wonderful. And one scene (spoiler: the dog lives) with the two of them toward the end of the book, just about broke me.
The rest of the book is just great. Once we meet Tom (in the book’s present), you understand why Cherry loves him—and why it’s so hard for her to be going through this period. When we see him at the beginning of their relationship, you have a hard time believing they’d go wrong. The romance with Russ could be just the thing to keep her afloat in this dark period in her life—and you can see it working.
But like that one guy said, the course of love never did run smooth. And some roads are bumpier than others. With sharp drop-offs to either side. And maybe some snow.
Still, Cherry’s the kind of person you want to watch navigate that course—so you can root for her, cheer for her, and maybe weep with her.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.