***THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS***
I don't know what to say about this book other than it's one of the worst things I've ever read - a dubious honour considering that I've read a lot of crap in my life.
Love Song tells us the utterly ridiculous, outrageously unbelievable story of Richard Wilde Jr, the black sheep, wallflower, youngest daughter of a prestigious, filthy rich family of funeral home tycoons headquartered in Georgia, USA. Yes, you read that right - Richard Wilde Jr is a chick, named after her father, Richard Wilde Sr, because he'd hoped she'd be his long-awaited son after already having had three daughters. Excuse me while I wipe the film pretentiousness off my screen.
While Ricki's sisters are polished, successful, albeit ruthless, business women, Ricki, by deliberately over-the-top contrast, is awkward, clumsy and naïve - the shame of the family - because of course she is. *insert eyeroll here as we can already deduce where this predictable tale is headed* In fact, she's so different from the rest of her family, particularly her sisters, that they might as well have found her feral and flinging feces in the jungle, slapped a dress on her and plopped her down, wild-eyed and bushy-haired, in the middle of a dinner party at Buckingham Palace.
Her older sisters are perfect, of course, having already completed their university educations, donned their high-powered taupe business suits and, as expected, entered into the family business of chasing ambulances. Ricki, however, works as a lowly receptionist at one of her family's funeral homes and is considered the failure as she hasn't lived up to their expectations. She's a free-spirit, dontcha know, and all she wants to do is become a florist.
One day, she meets Ms. Della - an elderly woman in her 90's who comes to the funeral home to make arrangements for her recently deceased husband. Why dafuq this woman went all the way to Georgia to make arrangements when she lives in NYC is beyond me but I guess the author needed something to keep her dumb plot moving. Within, literally, the space of 5 minutes, Ms. Della has heard all about Ricki's hopes and dreams, formed an unbreakable bond with her and starts referring to her as her granddaughter. She has also offered up the vacant space that she just happens to have available in the boarded up lower floor of her Harlem brownstone so Ricki can open her very own flower shop. With practically no money, no experience and no idea wtf she's doing, Ricki moves from Georgia to Harlem and takes up residence in this strange old lady's home.
Ricki struggles with her business, gets tangled up with an artist named Ali who anyone with eyes can see is a douchebag. Fuck, Stevie Wonder could see he’s an idiot….yet Ricki, who has TWO working eyeballs, somehow doesn’t. She then becomes best friends with a former child star named Tuesday and continuously runs through a gamut of emotions that are so all over the place that they give us, dear readers, the impression that Ricki is in a constant state of mania. One minute she's depressed, the next she's angry, the next she's feeling sorry for herself, the next she`s happy, the next she's a badass bitch. It's exhausting! It feels as if the author wrote a much longer prose that illustrates the gradual shift from one emotion to the other but it ended up on the editing room floor. And if she didn't then she damn well should have!
Before long, Ricki runs into Ezra Walker - a super hunky dude who takes her breath away and triggers a new wave of manic emotions - in some quaint park/garden in what is the stereotypical meet-cute in every badly-written love story set in some big city. Ezra is all mysterious and cryptic, constantly telling Ricki that they need to stay away from each other because it will get "dangerous". Oooooo! Let me wave my exaggerated, sarcastic hands in the air. Of course, they can't stay away from each other because there wouldn't be 300 more shitty pages to wade through.
While we are following Ricki around Harlem in 2024, the author introduces a secondary storyline that takes place in the roaring 20's during the Harlem Renaissance. These parts are clearly written by someone else because the "voice" is completely different and they're actually pretty good! We learn all about a jazz pianist named Breeze Walker - who we are supposed to presume is an ancestor of our hunky present-day Ezra - who has come to Harlem from the Jim Crow south. Through shear talent and hard work, Breeze becomes a famous musician who influences countless rock stars and artists.
Back in the present-day, we learn that Ezra has some sketchy secrets - and it takes the author THREE LONG, DELIBERATELY-DRAWN OUT CHAPTERS to tell us wtf they are!!! And believe me, when you find out who and what Ezra is, you'll want to throw the book into the trash...and then light the trash on fire. It's the stupidest twist I have ever seen put to paper and I actually considered not finishing the book because of it. SPOILER: have you read The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue? Yeah? Well, so did this author.
Ezra also has a "life coach"-slash-therapist who has the same sketchy secrets he does. OMFG shut up!
Anyway, when Ricki discovers Ezra's secrets, she spends a couple of paragraphs in exaggerated disbelief (there's a cringey scene where she ACTUALLY puts her curling irons in the form of a cross and shouts "the power of Christ compels you!"….I shit you not!) before having a heart to heart with ol’ Ms. Della and then buying the whole ridiculous thing, hook, line and sinker. She then tells her best friend Tuesday - remember that former child star we mentioned earlier? - the whole story and she's just like "yeah, I'd buy that because I once played a role on TV that had a similar backstory". DAFUQ??? Absolutely the most logical reason to believe this nonsense, right?
While all of this is going on, Ricki's business starts booming and her sisters, whom we haven't heard tell of since the first chapter, suddenly materialize on her doorstep like the fucking Sanderson Sisters. You can almost see the lightening flashing behind them when Ricki opens the door. The author even refers to them as the Witches of Eastwick. OMFG shut up! Ezra makes them dinner, they spend the evening insulting Ricki, Ezra stands up for his woman and then they disappear in a puff of smoke never to be mentioned again. The scene is painfully cartoonish and out of place and is clearly tacked on at the last minute as a big "fuck you" to her sisters for doubting her ‘cause she and her flowers are instagram famous now….or something….I don’t fukkin’ know. So, so bad!
The last 100 pages are Ricki and Ezra having a lot of sex and accepting their predictable fate - a fate that we've figured out 200 pages ago isn't actually going to come to fruition. This isn't a spoiler because, if you read this book and are even sort-of paying attention, you'll have the whooooooole plot figured out 100 pages in.
This book was awful! The author used to be some magazine beauty blogger and it shows. Not only is her writing atrociously bad and the story predictable and corny, her literary "voice" reads like a sassy "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days" article in Seventeen magazine. And it irritates the fuck out of you! A lot of other reviews mention that it reads like wattpad fanfiction - this is 100% true. You may have also heard tell of a weird scene where Ricki has sex with a piano - yup, also true. Oh, and there’s also a voodoo curse that comes right out of left field that Ricky and Ezra spend faaaaaar too many pages running around NYC trying to break. It's so cartoonish, you can almost hear the Benny Hill theme song playing in the background. *shakes head in incredulous disbelief*
The author also smashes to smithereens the #1 rule of fiction writing: limit your use of adverbs. Had she been a real writer, she’d have been well-aware of this rule but as someone who talks about lipsticks and eyeliner for a living, she clearly doesn't because every, single page of this asinine piece of junk was littered with 'em. It made her prose sound goofy, childish and amateur. Ricki shouts loudly....have we ever known anyone to shout quietly? OMFG....get a thesaurus ffs!
I don't know where all these raving 5-star reviews came from. I've read the backs of shampoo bottles that were better written and more engaging than this. Absolutely DO NOT recommend. Worst book I've read this year. In fact, I’m confident this will remain a top contender for the worst book I’ll have read all year. Avoid!!!!