The Princess and the Fangirl is a romantic YA retelling of The Prince and the Pauper, set at a science fiction convention. This book, the second in the Geekerella series, includes a f/f romance and a f/m romance but is primarily about the personal growth of the two heroines, Jessica and Imogene. It is lighter than a piece of glitter but does a good job of capturing the crowded, crazy convention world. You can certainly get into this book without having read Geekerella but the story does make references to it.

Imogene is a huge fan of the show Starfield. Her family works as vendors at large conventions and at ExcelsiCon (a fictional convention that is described as smaller than San Diego Comic-Con but still huge). Imogene helps at her parent’s booth and leads a #SaveAmara campaign. Amara, a character in Starfield, was killed off in a recent episode. She was a fan favorite even though fans dislike Jessica Stone, the actress who plays Amara.

Jessica is also at the convention. She hates being on Starfield and is thrilled that her character is finally dead so that Jessica can get on with the rest of her career. Jessica is exhausted and drained by the fan hate on her social media, including messages that comment on everything from her performance to her breast size.

Imogene and Jessica look very much alike. Due to a mix up, Imogene ends up pretending to be Jessica at a panel. With the help of Jessica’s assistant, Ethan, the two teens (Jessica is nineteen and Imogene is seventeen) decide to keep the ruse going. Jessica has to find a stolen screenplay before anyone realizes that she’s the last person who had it, and she thinks she can only do that if she’s a regular convention-goer with the ability to move freely around the con. Imogene wants to spread the #SaveAmara message. In theory, it’s a win-win.

I’m happy to say that the book is casually diverse (by “casually” I mean that the ethnicities and sexualities of characters are presented as facts but not as plot points or cause for discussion). Imogene has two moms, her brother Milo is gay, and Jessica and Harper could be lesbian or bisexual. Harper (Imogene’s #SaveAmara partner) is Black and Ethan is Asian-American. But there are no characters with disabilities, unless I missed something. For God’s sake, people, this is a large convention. Don’t tell me that no one has a service dog or an electric wheelchair. Other than the notable lack of disabled fans, con culture is described perfectly, including the ugly carpets, the weird smell, the crowded rooms, the junk food, and the lack of sleep for fans and guests alike.

Unfortunately, the romance here is pretty sketched in. Imogene falls in love with Ethan (Jessica’s assistant) and Jessica falls in love with Imogene’s friend, Harper. Ethan is in on the ruse. Harper is not, but she had only previously met Imogene online so she readily accepts that Jessica is Imogene. The characters know each other for a very short amount of time and in the case of Jessica and Harper, most of the time Harper spends with Jessica is time when Jessica is pretending to be Imogene. The romances serve as a way to show Imogene and Jessica becoming more trusting, more outgoing, and more confident. Even the personal growth can be summed up as “both characters gain confidence and self-esteem.”

What this book excels at is in both appreciating and critiquing fandom. Imogene fails to understand how harmful the toxic parts of fandom can be. Jessica fails to see its positive aspects. It was lovely to see a book that does take a hard look at toxic fandom without being condescending to the fans who find community, empowerment, and positivity through their fandom. Here’s Imogene’s response when Jessica asks her why she likes Amara so much:

Because she’s brave, and resourceful, and she’s the kind of princess who rescues herself, you know? When I first saw Starfield, I loved Amara. She wasn’t perfect, but she didn’t try to be – and that’s what I needed. I needed a role model who wasn’t good all the time, who wasn’t always right. I needed someone to show me that it was OK to make mistakes, and mess up, and get right back up again. She’s constantly in the shadow of her father, or in the shadow of Carmindor [the series’ hero]-and she tries so hard, constantly, to get out of it. To be the best version of herself that she can be. That’s why Amara means so much to me. Because she taught me that we can make mistakes, and we can own up to them, and we can be better because of them.

When Jessica grows to love Amara instead of seeing the character as a career trap and a gateway to Internet Hell, she is able to take charge of her life in a way not previously possible, and she’s able to feel part of a community (the fans who aren’t toxic trolls). Her growing appreciation of the power of storytelling is heartwarming, although it doesn’t eliminate toxicity from her social media. The implication that she no longer lets trolls define her is great but a little too simplistic, as it glosses over the very real consequences that a toxic culture can create in terms of real-life violence.

Because the character development and the romance and the resolution are so sketchy, I’m giving this a C+, but I seriously considered giving it a higher grade for its expert description of con life, the clever use of a fairy tale, and the examination of con culture. It’s strictly G rated and I have a feeling that younger readers would give it a higher grade. It was enjoyable but a little too lightweight for me given the themes and the romantic potential.