Just for the Summer (Part of Your World #3), by Abby Jimenez
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
If you came here looking for the third instalment of Abby Jimenez’ “Part of Your World” funny and fluffy romance series, you’d be both right and wrong. While starting out on a fun premise, “Just for the Summer” evolves into areas that are anything but fun and light, and—for me—Jimenez pulled it off really well.
Justin and Emma both feel “cursed” – they date someone and once it’s over, their respective ex meets their “soulmate”. When they realise they share this, any romance’s direction is clear: they have to date each other to “break” the “curse”, and, afterwards, meet their respective soulmate.
During the early parts of the novel, they meet, they like each other, and proceed to date—it’s all nice, light, and (mostly) easy…
»I dropped to one knee.
She sucked in air. “Uh, what are you doing?” she said, her eyes darting around.
“Romance.”
“Justin, stop it,” she whispered. “Get up! Get up!”
I took her hand and did my best to make my face straight. People were already stopping to watch. I made my voice low so only she could hear it. “Emma, would you do me the honor of delousing my family with me?”«
Emma is a travelling nurse, taking temporary jobs all over the US with her best friend, Maddy, always at her side. From early on, there is a feeling of unease about her—something feels not quite right…
Justin seems to lead a successful professional life, has a good relationship with his mother and his siblings—but there is also some avoidance, much anger, and a lot of hidden tension…
The typical romance would have gone on to scratch the surface of these issues, create some drama based upon them, thrown in a few common tropes, and secured a happily-ever-after (HEA). This is what I expected and came for.
When times are difficult, romance with its guaranteed HEA is my refuge.
Instead, Jimenez takes time to explore Emma’s constant travelling and detachment, as well as Justin’s own issues of a different kind. She does incorporate a few typical romance traits like some (very short-lived) miscommunication, a third-act breakup (even though it’s very different from the usual annoying ones), but, towards the middle of the novel, she really starts exploring her characters. And that’s where my perspective and expectations were turned upside down.
»She shrugged. “You don’t have to forgive […]. You can still love someone that you’ve decided not to speak to anymore. You can still wish them well and hope for the best for them. Choosing a life without them doesn’t mean you stop caring about them. It just means that you can’t allow them to harm you anymore. But if you don’t think your life would be better without them in it, then accept that they have cracks. Try to understand how they got them and help fill them with something that isn’t ice.” She peered at me. “If you can choose anger or empathy, always choose empathy, Justin. It’s so much healthier than anger. For both of you.”«
Slowly and sensitively, Jimenez lets her story evolve, and I realised that my coveted HEA was far from assured. From the moment of this realisation onward, I practically became glued to my Kobo. I became immensely emotionally invested in both Emma and Justin as well as their families. Because the author carefully depicts not only our heroes but also the secondary characters. Especially Justin’s family was so relatable and likeable that I couldn’t help but root for them as well.
Just like them, I simultaneously hated and understood Justin’s and Emma’s third-act breakup. It was the mature and sensible response to their respective discoveries about themselves and, thus, a departure from the usual crap a third-act breakup is. Both of them took their responsibilities to themselves, their respective families and each other very seriously and Jimenez found a great way to show us.
“Just for the Summer” with its carefully handled issues of panic attacks, anxiety, PTSD, depression, depictions of undiagnosed mental health issues, a toxic mother, and past child neglect is not typical for the romance genre and especially not for Abby Jimenez. It surpasses its roots and while I understand the criticism “not a romance”, I applaud this successful attempt to create something that expands on the traditional romance genre—a romance, though, it is.
I also happen not to agree with those who reject this as “depressing chick-lit”: While parts are certainly not fun at all, the approach Jimenez chose is consistently and coherently life-affirming, though not always easy on the reader.
Furthermore, I take issue with the term “chick-lit” as it is dismissive and condescending. It trivializes its targets, by framing them as light, insignificant, or less valuable than other books. Plus, it assumes these books are only for women, which I find completely unfair. As a man, I’ve read and enjoyed many novels that get slapped with this label, and it frustrates me how it perpetuates gender stereotypes about storytelling and readership. It discourages diverse readership, and marginalizes stories that center women’s experiences, unfairly implying they’re frivolous or less universally meaningful.
Just like love is love (between consenting adults), a good story is a good story, regardless of who writes it or who reads it.
I would have loved to read a little more about what happens after the ending and at some points, I wished for a slightly faster pacing. On the other hand, the writing was good (albeit not great) and, ultimately, for daring to rise beyond the usual confines of its genre, while also having to apply slightly more rigorous standards for that reason, I award this four stars out of five.
Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam
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