SILENT by Sara Alva: Excerpt & Review of New M/M Romance

Alex’s life as a teenager in South Central LA is far from perfect, but it’s his life, and he knows how to live it. He knows what role to play and what things to keep to himself. He’s got it all under control, until one lousy pair of shoes kicks him out of his world and lands him in a foster care group home. . .

Hi readerfriends,

Today I’m excited to host an intro to Sara Alva’s SILENT, a bold and unpredictable m/m romance about losing—and finding—home. First I’ll share my thoughts about this fearless and beautiful new novel, and then I’ll give you a little inside look at the first chapter.

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With some romance novels, there’s deep pleasure in predictability. From Chapter One—and maybe even from the blurb—you know who’s going to fall in love. The fun is uncovering the how and the why as you follow the couple on their bumpy road to happily-for-now.

Other books take you by surprise. They overturn expectations. They challenge plot conventions. They might make you uneasy, might make you feel like you’re on a carnival coaster that may or may not have been safety-checked.

SILENT is one of those books. And that’s why it’s worth reading.

This is one of those books you can’t review in any detail without giving too much away. So I’ll tell you how I felt instead. I felt sick for fifteen-year-old Alex, a hotheaded but goodhearted LA teen who bears abuse, neglect, and poverty with a fierce pragmatism that’ll have your heart in a vise before Chapter Two. After his family implodes early in the book, I felt a mix of relief and dread each time a new possible home presented itself: would this be his safe place? What’ll happen if he loses this? Because Alva makes this story about people, not PSAs, I felt every bit of Alex’s struggle: his panic, his bravado, his sense of mourning for the rotten life he’d grown accustomed to managing, his terror of loving boys (or anyone, for that matter).

Then he meets someone, and everything changes.

Three times I predicted who the love interest would be. Three times I was wrong. You’ll want to discover it yourself, so I’ll say only this: There’s an aspect to the romance that’s potentially very problematic early in the book, and instead of shying away from it, Alva lets Alex face it head-on, with all the messiness and tenderness and confusion you’d expect from a wounded teenage boy. I honestly had no idea where the story was headed, but I felt like I was in good hands, and Alva proved me right. I went from “Oh, Alex, no–don’t go there” to DEATH TO ANYONE WHO SEPARATES THESE BOYS, and the journey from A to B was complex and fascinating.

I read and enjoyed Sara Alva’s SOCIAL SKILLS last year, but this book is even better. Alex leaps off the page. The dialogue and the details of this world feel authentic, never falling back on familiar tropes and stereotypes. And there are well-developed secondary characters, from Alex’s social worker to the older sister who’s turned to prostitution to make ends meet (Alex’s interplay with his prideful lost sister and her trusting young daughter is the book’s most heartbreaking side story—a whole sequel could be written about Mimi and Star, and I’d be first in line for that).

I was still thinking about SILENT a week after my progress bar hit 100%. I hope you’ll give it a try, too. It’s not a breezy, light read, but its “heaviness” feels satisfying rather than burdensome. You get a survival story, a self-acceptance story, and a sweet-and-hot first-love story rolled into one. (A total steal, especially for $3.99.)

So here’s the excerpt. It’s from Chapter 1, when we first meet Alex (don’t worry; we won’t spend too much time with the loathsome Hector):

Chapter 1: New Shoes

I eyed my opponents warily, hoping they wouldn’t be too tight today. If I could get in at just the right angle, and with just the right amount of force…

With one swift movement, I shoved my right foot into the dirty Converse sneaker. That was the best way to do it, but it didn’t really make any more room for my big toe. A lump of nail pressed up against the fabric, where it was starting to tear the canvas away from the rubber sole.

Damn. Just when were my feet supposed to stop growing, anyway?

I’d outgrown my shoes enough times by fifteen to know I’d have that awkward, painful limp by the end of the day. For a second I considered trashing the sneakers and putting on flip-flops, but the teachers would probably throw a fit if they saw. No sense inviting trouble. It usually had an easy enough time finding me as it was.

Looked like I was just going to have to suffer through it. I sighed, beginning the torture of my left foot as well.

“Alex!” My mother’s voice easily carried through the thin walls. “If that bitch PSA counselor calls here one more time about you cutting class, you won’t be able to sit for a damn week!”

From the kitchen came the sounds of clinking beer bottles, which meant her boyfriend, Hector, was getting an early start on his day.

Or maybe not so early. Fuck, I’d be late if I didn’t hurry.

I grabbed my backpack off the floor, ignoring the little cockroach that scurried away from its now-exposed hiding place. It quickly found somewhere to slip off to between the wall and floorboards, probably joining hordes of its kind. Gross as it was, it was my own fault—I’d left some tamarindo candy in my bag after Giselle’s quinceañera.

The train blasting past the house gave me yet another reminder of my tardiness. It rattled the walls and kicked up dust through my open window, adding to the fine layer of soot that blanketed the lone piece of furniture in my room—an old white dresser I’d rescued off the curb a few years back. Of course, it wasn’t exactly white anymore.

Taking off as fast as my too-tight shoes would allow, I scrambled down the short hallway and got all the way to the front door before Hector grabbed me and slammed me against the wall.

“Where the hell is my shit?” His stubbled face pressed close to mine, blowing foul beer-and-morning-breath up my nostrils.

I pushed back and easily freed myself from his grip. He wasn’t going to be able to jerk me around like this much longer.

“Get the fuck off, man. I have school.” Some of the paint chipped off the wall behind me and fell onto cracked linoleum as I stepped away.

“I know you took it, hijo de puta. You fucking touch my shit again, I don’t care if you are your mami’s son. You living in my fucking house. I can kick you out like I did your puta sister.”

“Fuck off, Hector.”

He raised his arm and struck my chest, making me bang my head into the wall. More paint—or maybe a bit of drywall from an already cracked surface—fell to the ground. Hector’s rage-filled eyes darted over to observe the damage, and before he had a chance to regroup, I ducked, whirled, and burst out the front door.

Want to keep reading? You can preview more of this chapter on Sara Alva’s website.

SILENT is available on Amazon now, and the early reviews are fantastic. You can grab it here. (Quick note: I hadn’t read the blurb before I loaded the ARC on my Kindle, and I’m really glad I went in knowing nothing about the story. I’d skip the blurb on Amazon if you want to avoid any spoilers.)

Happy reading!