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A review by ametakinetos
The Very Nice Box by Eve Gleichman, Laura Blackett
2.0
I am...disappointed.
On one hand, you have the quirky corporate aspects of Spirit surveys and the Gay Tree and text therapy, the sitcom awkwardness of our introverted efficiency-driven main character and the peppy positivity pill antagonist, the constant namedropping of the SCADA-branded products that feels like one big infomercial, a group called "The Good Guys" that instantly appears cultish to everyone except themselves, the classic jaded Gen Z versus the conglomerate, a predictable villain, "men ain't sh*t" restated a hundred different ways for 361 pages - all fodder for an excellent satirical, ironic, tongue-in-cheek piece.
On the other, you have a surprisingly well-executed depiction of grief, trauma, and the constant battle between opening up to experiences or shutting down for protection. Do you keep yourself to yourself, the hurt of the familiar, or venture out, the hurt of the unknown? How soon is too soon to move on? Is it your fault that you can't forget, or their fault for not remembering? It strikes an emotional depth totally inconsistent with the rest of the book, which relegates its characters to one-note roles and behavior convenient for the plot, not their established personalities.
The book really fails with Ava and Mat's relationship. By sheer word count, their relationship is the crux of the story, but we all knew right from the start that Mat was our bad guy. The barest of glances at the dust jacket and a low-level perception of The Vibe™️ makes that clear. So I spent the majority of the book just waiting for the other shoe to drop. He never comes across as charming or attractive regardless of how many times Ava may state it because we know it's doomed. Then, when you do finally get to the inevitable psychotic break, it's rushed, chaotic, and reminiscent of a Scooby-Doo episode. Mat pulls off his mask, delivers a "It was me all along!" monologue, Ava and her zany sidekick Jaime trap him in the Very Nice Box, and they walk off into the sunset discussing when they'll catch up on Hotspot.
A funky, Heathers-esque, satisfyingly tidy yet full-circle ending - if the book had stuck with the first approach. But after the care taken to establish Ava's traumatic past and ongoing struggles with relationship, it feels cheap. None of the social commentary on capitalism, toxic positivity, heteronormativity, etc. strikes more than a glancing blow. I think Nice Guys by Ryan Higa or a random Danny Gonzalez video on alpha male podcasts gave me more to think about than this.
Read the first couple chapters for the quirkiness, admire the fantastic cover art. Ditch the rest.
On one hand, you have the quirky corporate aspects of Spirit surveys and the Gay Tree and text therapy, the sitcom awkwardness of our introverted efficiency-driven main character and the peppy positivity pill antagonist, the constant namedropping of the SCADA-branded products that feels like one big infomercial, a group called "The Good Guys" that instantly appears cultish to everyone except themselves, the classic jaded Gen Z versus the conglomerate, a predictable villain, "men ain't sh*t" restated a hundred different ways for 361 pages - all fodder for an excellent satirical, ironic, tongue-in-cheek piece.
On the other, you have a surprisingly well-executed depiction of grief, trauma, and the constant battle between opening up to experiences or shutting down for protection. Do you keep yourself to yourself, the hurt of the familiar, or venture out, the hurt of the unknown? How soon is too soon to move on? Is it your fault that you can't forget, or their fault for not remembering? It strikes an emotional depth totally inconsistent with the rest of the book, which relegates its characters to one-note roles and behavior convenient for the plot, not their established personalities.
The book really fails with Ava and Mat's relationship. By sheer word count, their relationship is the crux of the story, but we all knew right from the start that Mat was our bad guy. The barest of glances at the dust jacket and a low-level perception of The Vibe™️ makes that clear. So I spent the majority of the book just waiting for the other shoe to drop. He never comes across as charming or attractive regardless of how many times Ava may state it because we know it's doomed. Then, when you do finally get to the inevitable psychotic break, it's rushed, chaotic, and reminiscent of a Scooby-Doo episode. Mat pulls off his mask, delivers a "It was me all along!" monologue, Ava and her zany sidekick Jaime trap him in the Very Nice Box, and they walk off into the sunset discussing when they'll catch up on Hotspot.
A funky, Heathers-esque, satisfyingly tidy yet full-circle ending - if the book had stuck with the first approach. But after the care taken to establish Ava's traumatic past and ongoing struggles with relationship, it feels cheap. None of the social commentary on capitalism, toxic positivity, heteronormativity, etc. strikes more than a glancing blow. I think Nice Guys by Ryan Higa or a random Danny Gonzalez video on alpha male podcasts gave me more to think about than this.
Read the first couple chapters for the quirkiness, admire the fantastic cover art. Ditch the rest.