Book Review: A Privileged and Infuriating Take on Trauma, Mental Illness, and Relationship Abuse

For twenty-six-year-old Adelaide Williams, an American living in dreamy London, meeting Rory Hughes was like a lightning bolt out of the blue: this charming Englishman was The One she wasn’t even looking for.

Is it enough?

Does he respond to texts? Honor his commitments? Make advance plans? Sometimes, rarely, and no, not at all. But when he shines his light on her, the world makes sense, and Adelaide is convinced that, in his heart, he’s fallen just as deeply as she has. Then, when Rory is rocked by an unexpected tragedy, Adelaide does everything in her power to hold him together—even if it means losing herself in the process.

When love asks too much of us, how do we find the strength to put ourselves first?

With unflinching honesty and heart, this relatable debut from a fresh new voice explores grief and mental health while capturing the timeless nature of what it’s like to be young and in love—with your friends, with your city, and with a person who cannot, will not, love you back.

Goodreads Synopsis

Overall Rating

2/5

Quick Take

Adelaide by Genevieve Wheeler had me in a trance from the start. The writing felt beautiful and intense, and with a history of relationship abuse, I felt like this book might be cathartic for me. However, it quickly became clear that this was a book that featured privileged and unlikeable characters, underhanded political messages, and a harmful message about how only certain types of women can be “truly” victimized. As I continued on, the writing ended up feeling childish and pretentious, as though the author were trying to copy the literary greats to no avail – even though it was clear that she does take herself too seriously and sees herself in the same caliber as authors such as Charles Dickens. I was left feeling angry and tricked. I know that this book has received a plethora of positive reviews, but I feel that it is a dangerous book. It stigmatizes true victims of relationship abuse as well as those who struggle with mental illness, and it screams “poor privileged white girl” in the worst way possible.

Tell Me More

Sometimes a book comes along that feels like a trick. The writing appears enchanting, and the reader feels as though they are reading a truly remarkable and life changing story. There are numerous quotable segments and insights galore. However, as the story progresses, the reader begins to realize that these “insights” and the “enchanting writing” are actually quite juvenile and generic. They are simply tricks to cover up a basic story with problematic elements that is trying to imitate classic literature, but ultimately fails.

This was exactly my experience with reading Adelaide by Genevieve Wheeler.

I must admit that I went into reading this novel expecting too much. I have a history of relationship abuse, and I am frequently searching for books that touch on this topic. I find that the right books often help me to explore my trauma and heal, and I expected Adelaide to be cathartic in this manner. Unfortunately, the story became quite pretentious, and the characters were completely and utterly unlikeable.

The namesake character, Adelaide, was quite possibly one of the worst characters I have read in literature. She was privileged, whiny, flighty, and self-absorbed. She fell in love with a man who clearly was not in a place where he could have a relationship because he was mourning the loss of his supposed “love of his life”. But Adelaide constantly talks about how he looks like a “Disney Prince” and how this made her fall head over heels in love with him – which seemed very basic to me. He is clearly an unstable, abusive jerk, but Adelaide constantly goes overboard trying to impress him and “earn his love.” The emotional abuse he projects onto her is absolutely inappropriate and harmful, but I had a hard time empathizing with Adelaide because her character was so flat and unlikeable. I do understand that Adelaide’s experience is common when it comes to toxic men and toxic relationships, but the themes were so basic and laughable that I could not take her pain seriously.

Unfortunately, Wheeler also makes the mistake of projecting her political ideals onto the reader, which was unnecessary and harmful. She also talks constantly about how “frail” and “cute” Adelaide is, which insinuates the idea that only women who are girlish, thin, white, and cute can be “true” victims and worthy of sympathy.

The theme of female friendship was also lost on me, as I found Adelaide’s friends to be insufferable, unlikeable, and – you guessed it – privileged. Privilege was a huge toxic theme in this novel, and the last thing we need is another novel that focuses on privileged white women who are unable or unwilling to step outside of their comfort zone and empathize with those who do not have this type of privilege.

Lastly, the mental health and illness aspects were poorly executed. While Adelaide does discuss her family’s history of mental illness and is ultimately diagnosed with bipolar disorder herself, her presentation of bipolar disorder was poor and stigmatizing. There were also numerous comments throughout about us “Americans and our pills” which was insulting. As someone who has to take multiple mental health medications to be able to function, I felt like this was a direct hit.

Some readers might find solace in Adelaide by Genevieve Wheeler, and that is fine. However, it was a harmful read for me, and I did not appreciate how worse off I felt upon finishing it. There were too many problem areas, and while I was going to give this book 5 stars in the beginning, my rating quickly fell to 2 stars due to the stigmatizing language and themes and realizing how I had been tricked with the supposed “beautiful writing”. Please proceed with caution.

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