Long shot - Kennedy Ryan

SHORT REVIEW

Objectively speaking, I have not come across a bad Kennedy Ryan book and this one is no exception. The novel is essentially supposed to be a romance between NBA player August and sports marketing aspirant Iris but at the end of their meet cute Iris reveals that she is taken by none other than Caleb (August’s NBA rival) and dampening the sparks between them. Thus, they go their separate ways, often remembering the night when everything seemed to click between them and wishing they could have more. Their paths cross occasionally even as they lead separate lives with separate challenges...do their stars finally align? Read to find out.

Beware, this is not a light read. Dark themes such as abuse are covered. Regardless, this is an essential read and I can guarantee an emotional roller-coaster. Happy reading!

MY FOCUS: DOMESTIC ABUSE/SEXUAL ABUSE/GBV

I really didn’t want to read this book. Once I knew the direction it was headed in, all I wanted was to close it and forget it ever existed. It would have been easy to do so if it was just fiction, but how can you forget something that’s rampant in the real world? There is no relief in saying that it’s not real because the same and much worse is happening in reality. So, I picked up the book and sat with my discomfort. If it’s so hard for me to read about it then what of the people experiencing it? The least I could do was read Iris’ story and understand that she was a mirror for what’s happening in society, of the ~840 million women who have experienced some form of abuse at some point in their lifetime.

My predominant emotion was anger. I was angry that Iris didn’t get out in time, that having a kid made it harder to leave, furious that August was so focused on his want for Iris while she was literally fighting for her life (yes yes he didn’t know...I never said my anger was rational), maddened at the fact that people could be complicit in Caleb’s abuse and not be shaken. I’m enraged that a human being like Caleb can and does exist, that he could put his hands on and take liberties with someone else’s body and know that absolutely nothing would happen to him. I hate that he had the power to isolate her and take away the option of seeking help from friends, family or authorities. Most of all, I was upset with my own helplessness, fiction or not.

Weeks later, I still feel raw. No one is safe. We cannot, in most instances, identify an abuser just by looking at them. If only I could get a genie in a lamp and wish away abuse and abusers. I wish that proclaiming my hate for abuse eradicated it or that writing about it does the same. I believe legislators are failing us, the laws aren’t in favour of the victims, making it harder to report, survive or even thrive after. For the sake of survivors and would-be victims I hope there comes a time where abusers never get to be free if indeed they must be alive.

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