You make me feel that: a "Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel" review

Sometimes books bite off more than they can chew. You can have an engaging story with fun characters, but it can get bogged down if you decide to throw in too many events those characters interact with and abrupt time jumps where key points of development may be missed. Although sometimes detailed and natural-sounding writing can alleviate some of those problems, a busy book is still a busy book. Although I haven't read her recent novel, the Emma Mills material I've looked at is a prime example of that. I'm pretty sure other authors struggle with this as well, and it seems like Sara Farizan, based on Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel, may be one of them.

This novel ultimately felt overstuffed with all it was trying to accomplish, even despite other issues. An influx of characters, events, and ideas all came together to create a novel that tried to accomplish as much as it could but instead accomplished little. What was pitched as a novel about a gay girl coming of age and discovering her people and falling in love became that and how to move past a villainous girl and how to deal with family and rekindling friendship. It tried to tie that all up in a bow, but the package was always on the verge of breaking. Although the narration was nicely sassy and there were some redeeming bits of humor, a voice that didn't quite click with its subject matter and some clunky writing ultimately made me disconnect from this book. It wasn't terrible, but it didn't strike a chord either.

Leila Azadi doesn't want that she's gay slipping out into the open. She'll keep her lips shut during a The Color Purple discussion so as not to accidentally out herself, thank you. It's hard enough being the daughter of Iranian immigrants who have the high expectation that she'll become a doctor and make the big bucks like her older sister will. But being gay on top of that will only make things harder. So Leila is content awkwardly trying to get back into a comfortable place with her male best friend who has a crush on her, always being a step behind everyone else in soccer, and just coasting through the rest of her junior year.

But then Saskia arrives. With her supermodel looks and charming personality, Leila is smitten almost immediately. The crush intensifies when Saskia seems to be reciprocating those feelings. So Leila decides to be a little bolder, getting involved in the school play and ditching school one day to go shopping with this new girl. Along the way, Leila rekindles a friendship with her old childhood best friend, finds her place among the theatre tech kids, and discovers that Saskia may not be the person she thought she was. But is Leila willing to sacrifice her happiness in pursuing a girl who may just be toying with her? And what about the best friend that's re-entered her life? What about her other best friends? Will they be caught in the crossfire?

Those were a few pretty busy paragraphs, and you may be able to imagine how it translated into novel form. I was surprised when the narrative started accelerating and picking up more events, mostly because the slice-of-life approach was working fine in the beginning. I liked Leila's snarky voice and her observations on high school life, and Farizan did a nice job painting the portrait of the life of an Iranian-American teenage girl struggling with her sexuality and future life goals. But after Saskia entered the picture and the play became a main plot point, things got cluttered. Leila's theatre involvement never felt major to the novel; most of it was skipped over in favor of focusing on the growing bond between Leila and Saskia. While this was no doubt important for the romantic crux of the story, if a character is going to find their calling, skipping over it and only explaining about it in passing completely cuts out any ground it's supposed to have. That may just be my theatre nerd talking, but I feel like the novel could have benefited from exploring theatre tech work a little bit more so we knew what Leila was getting involved with.

It didn't help that the tone of the novel felt off too. Although the novel was very much targeted towards young adults (what with the underage drinking and the language used), the way Leila narrated her story and the simple passivity of the writing reminded me a lot of the middle grade coming-of-age stories I read growing up. These books had the main character, usually female, overcoming the snotty popular girl and succeeding at life no matter the obstacles, maybe snagging the love interest in the process. Although this plot didn't really kick in until halfway through the book (and the way the events followed this format were darker than middle grades usually feature), I was reminded of that set-up every single time I flipped a page. It even bled through into the abrupt time skips (where events that I thought seemed rather important were skipped over) and the characterizations. For as much as Leila's conflict of hiding her sexuality was empathetic, most of her peers and extended family felt like cartoon characters instead of real people (one girl obsessed with vampires comes to mind).

But I feel like the biggest thing that had me questioning how far to take my disbelief came in that aforementioned second half, where the villain is conquered and destroyed...somewhat. By that point, a climatic resolution had already happened. Theoretically, if some scenes hadn't been skipped over to get to the climax and more fleshing out had occurred, a resolution could have happened in 20 or so pages. But the novel still had 100 to go, and what happened in the last section (a new play, a school dance, defeat the bad girl!) felt like a sequel crammed into a standalone. This character's further regression into an Ursula-fueled nightmare felt unrealistic because of this. I'm aware some homophobic people may play at the idea of being homosexual or bisexual only to humiliate actual queer individuals, but it just felt over the top for this character, who had been set up to be a romantic interest. Then when the ending came around, it felt anticlimactic and late because of what had been previously written. The timing just didn't work.

So even despite Leila's sass, some great scenes, and entertaining dialogue and moments, the pacing of Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel, coupled with its sheer quantity, missed the mark for me. Considering Farizan's film degree, I'm pretty certain this novel could be adapted into a film or show and probably have more depth to it, but as a book, everything felt like it was on a surface level basis. Because of this, the pathos didn't cut and I was left disappointed.