FIND ME A BOOK: Roan Parrish’s IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMEWHERE (m/m romance)

Sometimes I think that no matter how old I get, I’ll always feel seventeen inside.

I mean, on the outside I’m all “authorly twitter lady” and “owner of home” and “keeper of job” and “mother of actual eight-year-old human.” But crack my shell and you’ll see a squirming mass of teenage insecurities, irresponsible habits, unforgotten embarrassments big and small, and self-recriminations over all the dumb things I said this week. And also the charred debris of grownup recipes I tried and bombed in my supposedly grownup kitchen.

I’m leading up to something, and that something is my favorite part of Roan Parrish’s smashing debut novel, In the Middle of Somewhere. Her main character, Daniel, is a thirty-year-old English professor. He has a Ph.D. He is, from superficial descriptions, a genuine functional adult. But his first-person narration betrays a truth so many of us can identify with: inside (and sometimes outside), he’s still that insecure kid who fumbles with the mantle of adulthood, who hasn’t mastered “grownup” things like cooking or basic repair work but is too defensive to comfortably accept a partner’s help. He overthinks and second-guesses; marinates in anxieties and bad mental scripts he can’t seem to shake. He regresses in the bluster of his asshole brothers and father. When he meets Rex, a shy gorgeous carpenter who gently unlatches his defenses, he is full of ums and stammers and nervous babbles he can’t help but upbraid himself for. He’s capable of both tender devotion and adolescent outbursts, and both feel effortlessly part of the same complicated soul.

Daniel sounds young. Because he is—not chronologically, but in the way that all our hearts stay young and raw and vulnerable no matter how many books we publish or how many prestigious letters we rack up next to our names. And I love how this beautifully written book not only acknowledges that, but makes it integral to Daniel’s arc. His formative experiences still drive his thoughts and actions, so much so that they become the story’s real antagonist, the obstacle that almost keeps him from accepting the love he truly deserves. (That’s another thing I really love about this book. Every time it looked like a third guy was blundering in to stir up some conventional relationship trouble for Daniel and Rex, the “threat” was quickly neutralized—because the real conflict here is the battle Daniel’s fighting with himself.)

So, Daniel and Rex. Let’s talk about the relationship, because it’s the heart of the book and the thing that’ll keep you turning pages (and fanning yourself with them). This is a sweet-hot romance that alternately simmers and boils, that Parrish develops with great care while still leaving plenty of room for blazing bonobo passion. Here’s why I pulled for them and you will too, probably, unless your feels are made of styrofoam peanuts and gravel:

The romance happens fast and slow. We don’t have to wait long for a Daniel/Rex liplock—with a snowy cabin in the woods and an ultra-fetching carpenter, Parrish sets up an irresistible first meeting that slides naturally into a satisfying first kiss. But that’s just the first step in their complex relationship, thoughtfully constructed with plenty of realistic ups and downs.

They’re an appealingly odd couple whose differences don’t seem unrealistically bridged. I read a lot of “opposites attract” stories with skepticism. It’s an appealing dynamic, but often it’s tough to imagine the couple actually making a go of it without one or both parties constantly choking back resentment or exasperation. I bought the Daniel/Rex relationship, though. Their personalities are very different, true—watch the way Rex says everything with a few deliberate words, while Daniel tends to protect his pride with a firehose of chatter. But they comfort, challenge, and complement each other in equal measure, and that’s what makes their story such a pleasure to read.

They help heal each other’s wounds (but not in a cheesy way). Awful things have happened to them both, and it’s beautiful to see them entrust each other with their deepest secrets as their connection builds. That doesn’t mean they see each other as the ultimate savior; it just adds another dimension of depth to an already multifaceted relationship.

Also, the sex. There’s a lot and I’m actually a terrible judge of sex scenes because I always feel like I’ve followed the characters into a room I shouldn’t be in, but in my opinion the erotic assignations here were August-in-Baltimore hot, struck the perfect balance between the physical and emotional, and contributed skillfully to the development of the Daniel/Rex dynamic. And they’re also liberally laced with hilarity, as when Daniel awakes to find himself lying on Rex like a squid snuggling a whale.

That’s something else that deserves its own paragraph: This book is FUNNY. There’s Daniel’s rapid-fire snark, Rex’s sly quiet humor, the hilarious puppy-dog verve of their young friend Leo, and (best of all), the raucous, needle-sharp humor of Daniel’s best friend, tattoo artist Ginger. (She’s awesome—one of my favorite parts of the book, and a character who more than merits her own story. Spend enough time with her and you’ll be calling everyone “pumpkin” and riffing on the merits of tart cherries.)

The last quarter of the book gets heavier, as some unexpected developments with Daniel’s family ramp up the action and tension. These final plot twists (no spoilers!) both enrich and complicate Daniel’s character growth, put his bond with Rex to the test, and usher the relationship into a whole new era. I hope it’s not a spoiler to say….

SPOILER

SPACE

JUST

IN

CASE

…that I shed a happy tear, put my e-reader down with an utterly contented sigh, and went to bed dreaming of a sequel.

Five stars for you, In the Middle of Somewhere. And Roan Parrish, you’ve got a one-click fan for life.