BOOK REVIEW of It Ends with Us by Colleen Hoover
Rating:
TW: abuse, sexual assault
Let’s get something straight – by writing this blog, I am no way dismissing the abuse Colleen Hoover’s mother endured. But, as someone who also has connections to DV, I think Hoover’s take in It Ends With Us borders on being harmful rather than raising appropriate awareness.
Domestic abuse is undoubtedly a difficult subject, and yet, it is one of increasing importance. Exploring it in literature can be a fantastic way to expose others to the harsh realities of it and raise awareness. It can also offer a connection, a notion of relating, for victims or others who have witnessed abuse firsthand. If you saw yourself in It Ends With Us, and if that brought you comfort, then that’s incredibly important, and the intention of this post is in no way to undermine that. But, for me, there were just too many inaccuracies and questionable moments for me to look past.
The beginning is always a good place to start, and I’ll be the first to admit this book had a cute, captivating opening scene! I was hooked, which only made the downfall harder. Is it super realistic that Lily would end up talking to a stranger and be invited to his rooftop? Probably not, but it certainly makes for a “meet cute” moment with the mischievous and flirty neurosurgeon, Ryle. Because I had a loose idea of what this book is about, I tried not to fall for Ryle’s rouse. But, just like Lily and so many other victims, it’s so hard to see the truth when everything starts out as normal and lovely. In that regard, CoHo did a great job.
Something that’s never addressed, though, is the insanely creepy blown-up picture Ryle has hanging in his apartment even before he and Lily begin dating. It’d be creepy enough if they were dating, but the fact he’s had that on his wall since soon after their first encounter is such a red flag. I could understand it being used as a plot device to demonstrate his obsessive/possessive personality, and Lily’s desperation to overlook his true colors, but it’s never condemned as being wrong and stalkerish, even after the climax of the story.
It Ends with Us relies heavily on the extremes. I’m beginning to realize that’s a component of romance novels, so I’m aware it’s just not my taste. But in stories like Ali Hazelwood’s The Love Hypothesis, I found the unrealistic scenarios endearing because I was smitten with the characters. In this CoHo book however, that isn’t the case. I found each and every single character to be flat. They all have interesting backgrounds, which makes it all the more confusing why they don’t work, but I think it comes down to the fact that each character serves only one purpose: Ryle as the abuser; Atlas as the boy from her past who will inevitably “rescue” Lily (despite his protests that he’s not saving her); Issa as the link between Lily and Ryle; Lily’s mom her foil – the list goes on. So when they all reach the highest forms of success, it’s annoying and I don’t find myself happy for them. Newsflash, but not everyone that opens a flower shop or restaurant will be nominated for Best in Boston, and not everyone who becomes a neurosurgeon will have to struggle between picking the #1 and #2 hospitals in the nation to work at.
The other major extreme is how the abuse is portrayed. In fact, it almost reads like a caricature of abuse, which I absolutely hate to say. Abuse absolutely consists of extremes (see Ryle pushing Lily down the stairs; attacking her for dropping dinner; etc.) but it’s also filled with nuances. There are little gazes that make you paranoid, self-doubt, walking on egg-shells, always being on edge and anticipating what’s going to happen next. Without these small but essential details, the large outbursts from Ryle didn’t make sense and the story being told didn’t pull the weight it could, and should, have.
On to the way everything was handled after the catalyst. I’m specifically referring to two major events, so let’s start with the first. Lily, whose husband just attempted to rape her, seeks solace in the apartment of her friend (a boy from the past she, by chance, ran into in Boston). Not only does this play into the man saving the damsel in distress trope – which it does, no matter how many times Atlas reminds the reader it doesn’t – but she has other, female options to turn to, including her mom who also went through abuse at the hands of Lily’s father.
But let’s go past this because I’m not trying to imply a girl can’t turn to a guy friend. I’m getting at the fact that despite their past and occasional encounters, Atlas is still an acquaintance at best. It’s not even this part that truly bothered me, but what happens while Lily is at his apartment. While he is out, a few of Atlas’ friends show up. Lily, who had just been assaulted, lets them into the apartment.
I’ll wait while you process that.
I find it incredibly hard to believe that a woman who has just been through the trauma Lily has would willingly let some strange men into her newly established safe space. They might be an extension of Atlas who Lily trusts, but his standards don’t automatically transfer to his friends. Yes, they wind up being cool, and somehow they’re all buddy-buddy by the time Atlas returns, but this occurrence is something I took major issue with because of how uncharacteristic it is while simultaneously blowing past the trauma she’s just endured.
The second issue I’ll touch on (because there’s a lot I could) is somehow even more concerning than the one mentioned above. At the end of the book, Lily gives birth to their daughter. I’m not usually a fan of the pregnancy trope except when it’s used right like in the Hunger Games, but I do actually think it works here to show that there is still a link connecting Lily to her abusive husband, because this is very real. What doesn’t work though is the joint custody she decides to grant him.
I’m sorry, WHAT?
This is an unstable man who the reader learns has black-out episodes due to his own unresolved trauma (another thing I take issue with, but I won't dive into that today). He isn’t working on himself, that’s for sure. Lily is terrified of him and suffers his abuse first hand. But suddenly, eleven months later, with him showing no improvements whatsoever (they are divorced now), she decides to let him have unsupervised partial custody of their defenseless baby when he still can’t control these episodes? Are you out of your MIND?? The fact Lily wants Emmy to have her dad in her life doesn’t excuse the fact the situation is reckless and alarming.
There’s plenty more I could go into detail about, but I think I’ll leave it here. Maybe I’m just missing the hype surrounding this book (it has a 4.37 on Goodreads with nearly 2 million ratings given) but at the end of the day, I simply cannot in good conscience recommend such a terrible book. And unfortunately, because I had such a bad experience with this book, I’ll be avoiding every other CoHo book, marking It Ends with Us as the end of my journey with CoHo.
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