A
Genre: Contemporary Romance, LGBTQIA, Romance
Theme: Enemies to Lovers, Opposites Attract, Small Town, Workplace
Archetype: Athlete, Teacher/Professor
CW: homophobia
After a failed acting career in LA and a recent divorce, Mattie Belman has returned to her tiny hometown in Pennsylvania to teach theatre at the local all-girls Catholic high school. It’s weird enough that she’s thrown into the deep end of Catholicism as a Jewish lesbian, but her life gets way more complicated when the school’s arrogant soccer coach decides Mattie is her new enemy.
Jillian Reed is the local hero who’s coached St. Rita’s team to 13 consecutive annual championship victories, after walking away from a career as a professional soccer player. Mattie doesn’t know why Jillian decided to be such a jerk to her, but she pushes back hard when Jillian says her players can’t take part in the school’s musical. Things get worse for Mattie when the Principal informs her that Jillian will be her co-director, but their abundance of time together shows there’s much more to Jillian than meets the eye.
Loser of the Year is told in the third person from Mattie’s perspective. This works well for a few reasons. The first is that
the story has a twist that would never work if we had access to Jillian’s perspective. That twist was everything to me because it recontextualized everything that came before it and guaranteed I’d go back to the beginning and read everything all over again.
Secondly, I adored seeing Jillian through Mattie’s eyes. I suspect readers will either love or hate Jillian, at least at first. She’s incredibly cocky and, until Mattie, no one stands up to her because she brings good publicity to the school. Mattie slowly earns information from Jillian that sheds light on why she constructed a public persona that keeps everyone at arm’s length.
I loved Jillian from early on, because she lights up when Mattie pushes back (once she gets over the initial shock of it). Jillian’s been waiting for a sparring partner for years, which she all but admits when Mattie asks why she forced her way into co-directing the school musical.
“Is there any other reason you’re doing it?” Mattie’s voice went nearly as hoarse as Jillian’s.
There’s no other reason, she expected Jillian to answer.
“Maybe I like it that you aren’t scared of me,” Jillian said, her voice still husky.
I also loved seeing Mattie’s interior life as she goes toe to toe against Jillian. With a failed career and marriage under Mattie’s belt, plus moving back in with her parents at age 37, she feels like a total loser (of the year, some might say… I’ll see myself out.). Even though Mattie doesn’t understand Jillian or why Jillian wants to fight her so much, she flourishes in their combative moments because Mattie finally doesn’t feel invisible or useless. I felt it in my chest when I read, “No one had ever stared at Mattie like Jillian was doing now, as though Mattie were the only person in the world who mattered.”
The final reason I’m glad the story is told from Mattie’s perspective is because I appreciated seeing her reactions in real time to the school’s conservative version of Catholicism. When I picked up this book, I had no idea how big a role the Catholic church would play in the narrative. Very early on, we learn that Mattie hadn’t read her contract closely enough before signing to notice its morality clause, so working at St. Rita’s requires her to return to the closet. As Mattie and Jillian’s eventual relationship develops, the morality clause hangs as a specter over them because it’s such a threat to their employment status. It’s been many years since I’ve read a contemporary sapphic romance where it wasn’t safe for characters to be out, but it’s timely and makes sense in this one, since queer teachers are still being fired for religious reasons in some states.
If you’re wondering how difficult it might be to read this story, given the religion-based homophobia, this is one of those YMMV situations. It didn’t bother me, even with my history of religious trauma that’s rooted in a few Christian traditions, including Catholicism. I found it healing and satisfying to read, because it’s a gigantic middle finger to any system that tries to dictate how people should live and who they should love. Writing LGBTQ representation in fiction, especially romance, was long considered a radical act, and Loser of the Year reminds us why it still is today.
I went into Loser of the Year with a lot of curiosity because the author is married to the person who wrote my favourite book. I didn’t know anything else about it, except that it’s a debut and the premise intrigued me. I was hoping for a fun, satisfying romance to squee over and it was so much more than that. As soon as I finished reading it last week, I put it immediately in the to-reread folder on my Kindle and started reading it all over again. I love and respect this book so much, and I cannot recommend it enough.
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Thanks!
On my TBR!
Ooh, this sounds good!
I’ve been looking for more realism in the workplace settings of contemporary queer romances and also for more female MCs whose career issues are more than ‘clumsy cute pixie who creates a ridiculous situation for herself and must be rescued from her own poor planning / general foolishness.’ Thanks for this thoughtful review.
This does sound appealing, Tara. Thanks so much for sharing your thoughts!