We Could Be Heroes by Philip Ellis is 85 percent wonderful and 15 percent Blergh! Stop! I hate this!
The good stuff: Great plot, great specificity, great immersion into superhero comic book and movie culture.
Our heroes are Will, who cobbles together part-time jobs as a bookstore clerk and a drag queen, and Patrick, who is starring in his second blockbuster movie about Kismet, a superhero who is a combination of Iron Man (pulls together a franchise), Superman (similar superpowers), and Batman (has a sidekick).
Will and Patrick meet when filming for Patrick's movie is relocated to Will's city, Birmingham in England. While Birmingham is not a character in its own right (see Queerly Beloved by Susie Desmond for a book in which the location is a character), it is clear that Ellis knows and loves the city.
Patrick has been forced into the closet by his career. When he somewhat unwillingly accompanies his costars to a drag show Will is in, he and Will fall quickly and hard for each other. They figure out how to make it work while Patrick remains mostly closeted. Some of their tricks are pretty hilarious, like Patrick dressing in normcore when they go see Will's teenage relative play a gig -- knowing that teens would never look twice at a man dressed like that.
There is a fantastic secondary story about the writers who created the comic book Kismet in the 1940s and an original Kismet story they wrote that never made it to publication because it had a gay theme. It was obvious that Ellis loves comic books and their history as much as he loves Birmingham.
The bad: I've read several books lately in which a 20-something twink character worries that he is "too much" for anyone to love him. This is the first book in which I agree with the character.
After they have been together for a few weeks, Patrick's time in Liverpool is coming to an end, as they both knew it would from the beginning. Patrick acts like a cad, and Will reacts by becoming incredibly awful. Like I-wish-this-character-had-never-been-dreamed-into-existence awful. First he stalks Patrick at his movie set, and refuses to listen when Patrick very reasonably says that he can't have this conversation in the middle of his workday. Then Will says terrible, unforgivable things to his best friend. Then he moves into his stepsister's guest room (he has his own apartment, it's not like he's homeless), refuses to leave the room for weeks, and forces his stepsister, a single mother with a fulltime job, to wait on him. He lets down his jobs -- even drag story hour at the local library, FFS.
Look, I get it. I'm the Gen X mother of Gen Z kids who constantly tell me I don't care enough about their emotions and that demanding that they do their chores makes my love contingent. (Gag me with a spoon.) (IYKYK.) So this story line was bound to push my buttons. And did it ever. I hated Will so much. He needs to get off his ass, stop making other people take care of him because of his very standard heartbreak, show up to work, and live up to his responsibilities. Does he have to be happy when he does that? Absolutely not. I'll allow him to be surly at customers in the bookstore -- but not to the kids at the library. I'll allow him to be mopey around his friends and family and force them to deal with that -- but not to say awful, unforgivable things to them and make them wait on him hand and foot.
The book (and Will) course-correct before the end, and returns to charming. But the sour taste was left in my mouth. It may be that I am simply too old by 30 years to enjoy this book.
Note from Jasmine Gold: As the name of this blog indicates, I write erotica. Check out my dark, dystopian novel about naked sex slaves, Mindgames. Your darkest fantasies, with a phenomenal plot and characters you will come to think of as beloved friends. Available on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited and in paperback. Or read my book of short stories about hot, consensual sex, The Mature Woman's Guide to Desire, available on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited.
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