"Their Troublesome Crush" is like watching a trainwreck, except everyone onboard says you're a bigot
My bitter 1 star review
I read “Their Troublesome Crush” by Xan West. You may know this title as either the Wokest Book in the World 🌎 or unjustly made into a punching bag by the cruelest of xenophobes.
If you’ve avoided this book until now, here’s the official summary:
In this queer polyamorous m/f romance novella, two metamours realize they have crushes on each other while planning their shared partner's birthday party together.
Ernest, a Jewish autistic demiromantic queer fat trans man submissive, and Nora, a Jewish disabled queer fat femme cis woman switch, have to contend with an age gap, a desire not to mess up their lovely polyamorous dynamic as metamours, the fact that Ernest has never been attracted to a cis person before, and the reality that they are romantically attracted to each other, all while planning their dominant's birthday party and trying to do a really good job.
This low conflict foodie romance novella by Xan West includes a queer trans man/cis woman romance, forced proximity and friends to lovers tropes, and demiromantic, bisexual, pansexual, trans, fat, autistic, disabled, diabetic, PTSD and depression representation.
It’s impossible to discuss this book without getting into LGBTQ ideology. I don’t try to hide my beliefs, but I know no one’s coming to my blog for political commentary. But I want it to be known that I am pro trans rights, since the biggest tits I ever finished on were attached to a trans woman (38H, btw). If any terfs with a bigger rack want to convince me to their side, by all means, have at it.
Anyway, this book was a unique experience. Every page I’d yell into the ebook, “are you fuckin kidding me!” and then I’d flip the page and repeat that same sentiment. It was the sort of high energy experience I thought I could only get by being a taxi driver stuck in New York traffic
What’s even more remarkable is that I read it all in one sitting. Nisioisin is the only other fiction author that I’ve been able to devour so quickly and easily, and that’s because he’s, like, a genius. There was something uniquely cringe about Troublesome Crush that turned it into such a page-turner. Why is this book such a spectacle, as opposed to other pronoun-obsessed lefty literature?
I would like to bring to the stand The Bestseller Code, the 2016 book by Jodie Archer and Matthew L. Jockers. It’s 200-some pages of analyzing a study where they fed a bunch of bestsellers into an AI to see what they have in common (such as the recurring themes, plot structures, and writing styles). It makes a lot of bold claims about being able to predict what makes a bestselling manuscript. Now writers should always just, like, follow their heart, man. But it’s the primary book I’d recommend to anyone itching to make a novel. Between analyzing bigger trends, there’s a lot of solid writing advice (like you should use an active voice instead of a passive voice, your protagonist should be the one driving the plot, etc etc). It’s all stuff you’d find in most “how to write a book” books, but these nuggets of advice hit a little harder when they can back it up with data and show how often bestselling books across all genres execute these concepts.
One of the most memorable parts of The Bestseller Code is an entire chapter where they break down why 50 Shades of Grey got so goshdarn popular. 50 Shade’s writing sucks, the characters suck, and it managed to offend both pearl-clutching churchgoers and hardcore kinksters alike. Everyone’s in agreement: This book is terrible. So why did everyone read it in 2011?
Andrew Diamond gives an apt summary of the chapter in his review:
The analysis showed that E.L James, despite what some might call a lack of style, had hit on every element of the blockbuster novel, from topical makeup to plot structure to character. The analysis also showed that, based on the number of paragraphs devoted to each topic, the book was more about close interpersonal relationships than sex in general. And “close personal relationships,” the authors remind us, is one of the top themes common to all bestsellers.
While the overall public discussion of Fifty Shades tended to focus more on the sex, the computer was able to see that readers were experiencing, perhaps on a less unconscious level, the same sorts of interpersonal relations that fascinate them in the genres of mystery, thriller, and historical drama.
Even more interesting, Archer and Jockers point out, is the plot structure of Fifty Shades, which is a subtle and unusual variation of one of the six basic structures common to all bestsellers. James' novel, generally follows “Plotline 4,” which Christopher Booker, in The Seven Basic Plots , calls “Rebirth.” Archer and Jockers point out that “these plots tend to see the main characters experience change, renewal, and some sort of transformation.”
The twist that James put on this basic plot is that, instead of following the plot’s typical emotional pattern of beginning-high-low-high-low-end, she created a series of highs and lows throughout the book, which occurred at such regular intervals that the graph of them looks almost like a perfect sine wave . Archer and Jockers refer to this pattern as the emotional rhythm of the plot.
Outside of the Harry Potter series, which was primarily aimed at young readers, the only “adult” book in the past twenty years whose sales numbers compare to Fifty Shades is Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code . The authors point out that although The Da Vinci Code’s basic plot differs from Fifty Shades, the two books share an almost identical emotional rhythm. Page 106 of The Bestseller Code shows a graph of the two plot lines, with the high points, low points, and inflections points of both novels appearing almost in lockstep. Now who would have thought to compare those two books, or even mention them in the same breath?
Both were runaway bestsellers, and on an emotional level, both provided a strikingly similar reading experience despite their differences in topic, style, tone, and genre.
So with that in mind - I wonder if Their Troublesome Crush is doing something similar. There’s a rhythm to this book, and that pulse might be what’s drawn so many people to this book. If you ran it through the AI discussed in The Bestseller Code, I doubt it would classify it as a romance. The vibe of this book oscillates between a bitter sociology lecture and “The Berenstain Bears Go To The Bakery”.
Because what’s interesting about Troublesome Crush is how quickly and suddenly it ricochets between tone. The protagonist, Ernest, is a big cuddly ball of anxiety. His twee way of seeing the world makes me think he’s a miscast Muppet made to gently explain to children why they need to be kind to their autistic classmate. And despite his childlike way of processing the mundane, he’s also able to strut around like he has a PhD in gender studies whenever kink topics come up. It’s a book with incredibly jarring mood swings. Which makes it hilarious, in “so bad it’s good, watch out we’re coming for your crown, The Room,” kinda way.
At the end of Their Troublesome Crush is an excerpt from a fantasy series by the same author, and it was a total snooze. You’d think a fantasy series with like, magic and dragons and shit would have more intrigue than a “low conflict foodie romance novella”. But after reading the excerpt, I could only shrug. The fantasy book went way harder with neopronouns, but that’s not something so wild and outrageous that I’ll wheeze and guffaw at the unbridled cringe. It had nowhere near the emotional whiplash insanity as Troublesome Crush.
Much of the conflict in Their Troublesome Crush comes from the anticipation of something bad. Ernest is constantly afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. And everything always turns out just peachy, every time. He doesn’t get over his anxieties or make any strives for self-improvement. The narrative insists: This pwecious ball of sunshine is just perfect the way he is.
And that’s the general attitude the narrative holds for all of the characters. The text insists that they are all just so sweet and so charming. It’s everyone else (that is, the mean ol’ bigoted cishets just slightly offscreen) who don’t understand. It’s a real “Us against the world” mindset, and everyone in this found family has an inherent respect and understanding of each other.
And that has to be why this is why this book found its sincere audience. It’s soft, it’s gentle, and the queer characters are always right. It’s bubblegum escapism. It’s not challenging, but it’s also a little too eager to remind you why their specific slice of queer ideology is unquestionably correct. And if you’re one of those guys who loves pontificating about gender diversity labels, this book is speaking your language.
But this is a true case of “one man’s paradise is another man’s hell.”
To make sure my bases are covered, I’ll rapidfire through my train of thought before I get into why I hate everyone here:
You don’t need your characters to be likable to make a good story
A strong villain or morally dubious characters can make a story more exciting, but,
Their Troublesome Crush is a deliberately low-conflict book, so the only “villain” is Ernest’s anxiety
I find Ernest unlikeable, but not in the way you’d find a good villain unlikeable.
Let me tell you why Ernest is so uniquely unpleasant. He’s constantly twiddling around and humming, and if he feels particularly bold he’ll break into song. Sometimes he’ll take a break from singing showtunes and discussing kink praxis to feel bummed out about how fat he is, but it never occurs to him to hit the gym. Maybe he’d be a little less fidgety after a leisurely stroll on a treadmill, but any attempts at self-improvement is too big and too scary for our darlin’ lil cupcake boy.
“But he’s autistic”. So am I, dumbshit. If his autism manifests as twirling around and song-talking, mine manifests as starting the day with 100 pushups. Which makes me wonder what’s the third element of autism so we can get a balanced rock-paper-scissors, because I know I could kick this doughboy’s ass.
However, I’m not sure if I could take Gideon in a fight. He’s the boyfriend of Nora and Ernest, typically referred to as the “daddy” of the polycule. I don’t know if that’s an ironic thing (like a 300-pound mobster nicknamed “Tiny”) or if he’s truly the highest T fish in this soy pond. The only hint on his stats/build is that he’s slim enough to get “top surgery,” which means he’s done enough gender transitioning that no one will think I’m railing on a chick if I give this nerd a noogie.
And god damn, does this nerd sound like a monumental pain in the ass. The plot of this book centers around Nora and Ernest planning a birthday party for Gideon, right? There’s an incredibly mild plot twist in the later half of the book: Gideon has two birthday parties. He has one with his “blood family” and his “chosen family.” I’ll let the text explain:
It was Gideon’s birthday (observed) and Ernest was trying not to spill his excitement all over Gideon, who was in a rather grumpy mood. They’d gone to Gideon’s blood family on Friday (his actual thirty-sixth birthday), which had included way too much fucking misgendering and general awfulness from Gideon’s father. Gideon was, as usual, still dealing with a depression flare a couple days later, the day they were planning to celebrate his birthday with his queer chosen family. He’d used his D/s safeword yesterday morning when the flare was in full force, and the safeword was still in effect. Ernest wasn’t surprised; he was glad Gideon didn’t feel like he had to be in Daddy mode when he was dealing with depression. It was better for them both to take a break.
Gideon had set the date of the chosen family celebration after his birthday again. It had puzzled Ernest the first time he’d done that. Why set it when he was likely to feel awful? Why not have it beforehand so he could actually enjoy it? Gideon had explained that chosen family was the only thing that really helped balance the awfulness of his blood family, and if he had a fun celebration beforehand, his blood family celebration would hit him even harder. It made Ernest’s heart ache, but he got it. (And was quietly relieved that he was estranged from his blood family and didn’t have to deal with these kinds of balancing acts.) The party would help Gideon feel less alone, and remind him there were people in his life who did value him and see him for who he was.
Dude, you’re thirty-six. Why are you still hanging with your family if they suck? I was 16 when I walked out on my shitshow family, and I’m dumber than you.
I’m gonna guess they’re footing the bill for your upscale Manhattan apartment, because there’s really no reason to keep entertaining them if they make you so this miserable. But even if that’s the case: thirty-fucking-six. Be a man and tell your dad to get fucked if he’s going to misgender you and/or anyone in your polycule. Or take the high road and accept in your heart that that dear ol’ Dad is stuck in his ways. I know your brain’s not done developing til you’re in your mid-20’s, but even the tragically horse-damaged slow kid can grow a spine by their 30’s.
I also have to wonder just what’s the level of interpersonal tension, here. If Ernest was Gideon’s plus-one to the Blood Family Birthday, there has to be some degree of acceptance from the blood family, right? Given how frequently everyone here announces their intersectional identities, there’s zero chance Ernest was being introduced to Gideon’s family as his “very special roommate.”
And the concept of planning a second birthday party to get yourself through the first one is another level of exuberance and hassle I can’t wrap my head around. Once the Found Family Birthday Party is rolling, Gideon continues to be a certifiable pain in the ass:
“I come bearing caffeine and sugar,” [Ernest] said, after nudging him awake. “How about you sit up and have some before your shower.”
Gideon groaned. “Do I have to?”
“No,” Ernest said. “We can have your birthday party while you sleep, if that’s what you need. But I do think that you might be sad you missed it. Nora’s here, and she’s dressed as Effie, you know.”
“Effie, eh? I do like Effie. Her and Sam have a certain something. It’s kinda like D/s.”
“Effie is her favorite character in the movie.”
“I didn’t know. Well, I don’t want to miss seeing that, I guess. Can I be grumpy about it?”
“It’s your party, you can grump all you want to.”
Gideon groaned, but he did sit up and take the soda. “No need to babysit me, go get ready yourself.”
“I’m on it.”
And a little later, that same chapter:
People started trickling in, and the apartment began to fill with chatter and laughter. Gideon took his place in the corner, and people came to him one by one, like he was the monarch who needed greeting. Ernest’s chair plan was working! Nobody stayed too long because the only thing close by was an ottoman near his feet that wasn’t particularly comfortable to sit on.
I have to wonder if the fun : pain-in-the-ass ratio makes this second birthday worth the effort. Before going further, I’d like to remind everyone of my essay, “Litterbox Comics and self-imposed misery in domestic life.” I spend a solid 20 minutes hypothetically asking (irrationally yelling) why in the hell this cat family is doing all of these normie family things if it stresses them all out. All of the #Relatable family moments in this comic are lost on me, since growing up was more like an episode of Cops than the average Norman Rockwell painting.
However, Litterbox is a comic about a nuclear family with 2.5 kids. I kind of expect someone who’s solidly middle class and willingly raising children to have that turbonormie mindset and wanting to play nice with societal conventions. Meanwhile, Troublesome Crush is supposed to be all radical and queer but there’s still a whole lot of huffing and puffing over “I don’t want to do this, but I really should, since that’s what’s expected, and I shore don’t want to offend anyone, ho hum.” And not even in a discrete honne/tatemae kind of way - since no one’s able to keep how they feel to themselves.
And to all that I give a hearty: Fuck you, man. I thought gay guys were supposed to have fun since all they do is fuck, and if you’re even deeper in the alphabet gang I’d assume the fun ratio goes up since the sex gets crazier. But instead we just see a whole lot of futzing about over doing the “right” thing. God, it’s insufferable. And way more irritating, since I thought the point of being “openly” queer is striking out on your own terms and forging your own path.
And that brings me to the last character, Nora, the “Jewish disabled queer fat femme cis woman switch”. All of these identity qualifiers, and this book never clues you into her cup size. But Troublesome Crush makes it clear that this is a big gal. Here’s an excerpt from the chapter where Ernest visits Nora’s place, and he notices Nora’s suddenly bigger:
“Okay.” He took a breath. “You seem bigger. Fatter, yes, but also just…bigger in all the ways you are. If that makes sense.”
She gave him the best smile. He felt full of bubbles again, just like at the cupcake shop.
“This is home,” she said, and he thought she might leave it at that. But after a couple seconds, she continued. “I don’t have to be careful in how I move because I set up the space so it can really hold me, is accessible. I can relax. Not worry about bumping into things, knocking things over, tripping and falling, trying to fit into spaces that weren’t made for bodies like mine. That’s a big part of it.”
In this scene, Troublesome Crush comes oh-so-close to describing something with some fetish appeal... and completely fall flat. That’s not even me talking as a guy who’s into fat chicks. But instead of getting into the juiciness of how big she is, the narrative suddenly morphs into a DEI workplace meeting about accessibility for people with bigger bodies. Fucking yawn. Ernest likes to bake, he’s giddy seeing his crush Nora let her stomach flab flow, and nothing horny comes of it. No imagining fattening her up, no imagining himself getting fatter, his mind doesn’t wander into how he could strategically use this fat-accessible space to cop a feel on this fat broad. What a gentleman, and I mean that as an insult.
Eventually, in the epilogue, we get another intimate scene with Nora and Ernest (if you couldn’t piece it together by the cover art, yes, these two greaseballs eventually start dating). For their intimate evening together, Nora ties a harness on Ernest. While in the harness, he bakes cornbread for her. She feeds him a cucumber and it’s all dandy. Then Ernest sings showtunes on his way to the train (gotta end the story by reminding everyone of our protag’s unmatched quorkiness!)
This is kind of an aside, but fuck it, I’ll explode if I don’t bring this up. But after Troublesome Crush I read “The Breakup Tour” which can be summarized as “The Author’s Thinly-Disguised Taylor Swift Fanfiction”. The whole thing read like a Hallmark movie threw up on a book, but I needed something unquestionably heterosexual that doesn’t take itself seriously to cleanse my palette, ya dig.
And okay, so early in the book the Taylor Swift expy meets up with her mom at a Vegan restaurant, right? Here’s how they introduce the diner:
The restaurant, on the fancy stretch of mid-Melrose, is one of my favorites. While I’m not vegan, I strictly follow whatever diet involves consuming this place’s soyrizo burritos in high quantities […] I’m going to need some exquisite vegan horchata to wash from my mouth the taste of my conversation with Max.
I’ve never had vegan Mexican food, but this immediately paints a pretty clear picture of indulgence. It’s the kind of vegan food that transcends dietary boundaries and lures in even the most carnivorous. And Taylor Swift reaching for the horchata after a bad encounter with her ex works as a testament to the comfort and escape good food can offer.
Later, when Taytay is sitting down with her mom:
“Everything is great,” I lie. “Should we get the nachos?”
This underhanded ploy works exactly like I expected. The mention of the nachos distracts my mother. “I can make those at home,” she says disapprovingly.
I purse my lips to suppress my laugh. My mother has long held the philosophy of never ordering from a restaurant something she already has a tried-and-true recipe for. Which, for me, includes the entire menu. My mom, however, former housewife and personal chef to my dad and me my whole life, has developed a formidable culinary repertoire. While I’m not certain she could recreate these nachos—which infuse dragon fruit with mole-drizzled cashew cheese covering effervescently crunchy chips—I don’t point this out.
“Okay, you pick,” I reply.
“Why don’t we get the gorditas,” she declares. While what she’s said is grammatically a question, she’s not asking.
Those nachos sound unmatched. I’ve never encountered anything like them, and would jump at the chance for a sample. And then I realized - I never had this reaction while reading Troublesome Crush.
Not once. Not even a little.
None of the food sounded good enough to elicit any sort of reaction while I was reading. It was just “there.” The little bits about food from the The Breakup Tour slapped me awake and I realized yet another area where Troublesome Crush failed. Which is pretty funny, Troublesome Crush (officially, formally, in their Kindle description) identifies as a “Foodie Romance”.
Here’s some excerpts from Troublesome Crush where they discuss food. I’ll start with this scene from chapter 1:
Oh. No pressure at all. What if he didn’t like it? He closed his eyes as he tasted it, and damn. The texture of the vanilla buttercream was unreal, and the cake was so soft, so moist, and not as sweet as he’d expected, which totally balanced the intense sweetness of the frosting. He felt himself grin. It was the perfect cupcake. Amazing. Stupendous. He wanted to take this cupcake dancing.
Later, at the same cupcake shop:
And her face—it was like she was trancing out on the cupcake. She was making that humming pleased noise, but deeper in her throat, and it was delicious to hear. Plus, she was doing that wriggle that said she really liked it. Yay! She offered him the other half of the cupcake, and he ate it, closing his eyes, leaning back against the wall, savoring the marzipan chocolate taste of it, the richness of the buttercream. Fuck, it was good.
Two chapters later:
He would think about this later. Right now, he would concentrate on serving the tea, and take all the pleasure he could from that. He asked how she took it, made sure to put the milk in first, then the tea, and then the Splenda she requested. He explained what each of the sandwiches were. He had made three kinds: tuna, cucumber, and cheddar-apple. He thought he had made everything small enough that she could try each thing, including the scones and the cake, and he was interested to note that she went for the tuna first but removed the top, took the cheddar out of two sandwiches to eat it plain, and made yummy noises over the cucumber sandwich.
She noticed him looking at her plate, and said, “Oh I’m sure it’s all wonderful as is, I just need to watch my protein to carbs ratio if I am going to try both a scone and a bit of cake. I just couldn’t resist the cucumber because they are my fave.”
“So next time, open faced sandwiches are better?”
She gave him the biggest grin. “There will be a next time?”
“Well. I mean. This is one of my favorite things to do. So if you like it. Um. Yes, I would like there to be a next time.”
“How did you learn to do this?”
“From my friend Marlene who comes to the Gender Fabulous Kink Munch I co-host. She’s a sissy maid, and she throws tea parties, teaches tea service. It’s her scone recipe, and she made the jam you’re eating, actually.” He loved bragging about Marlene. She was awesome.
“Oh wow, it did taste homemade. Scones with clotted cream and jam…yum.”
The book also has a few chapters of buildup for Pesach/passover (and Ernests’ anticipation over cooking for everyone). Here’s what we hear about the food:
Ernest lay in bed thinking about dietary restrictions for breakfast. No aged cheese for Judith, because of her migraines. No foods where Nora couldn’t control the portion sizes of carbs. He wasn’t going to do something like those sandwiches again, so that meant no casseroles or frittatas. Of course it needed to be kosher for Pesach too. He was going to make his special mozzarella scrambled eggs that Judith loved, he decided. And he could use the leftover potatoes from the seder to do the fried potatoes Gideon liked. He made a note of the menu in his calendar and set his alarm.
And, for breakfast:
They all made their way into the living room, and Ernest pointed out the snacks, and the movie list, telling them to pick a movie and that he would be back very soon with food. Cooking would help; it was the most grounding thing he could do, really. After he got the eggs going in the pan, he sliced up some cucumber, and took out the cream cheese and matzo. A brunch homage to lox and bagels. After folding the omelet, he took the pickles out of the fridge and started loading everything on a tray. He took the omelet off the heat and brought the tray out, putting the items on the table next to the couch and returning to the kitchen to plate the omelet. He used the tray to carry that out, along with the pitcher of iced tea and glasses. Perfect.
Then, at Gideon’s birthday:
He led her into the kitchen, just in time to take the corn dogs out. They smelled amazing.
“I am looking forward to having some of those,” she said, grinning at him.
And from the last chapter:
The chili smelled amazing, and the cornbread was still rather hot from the oven.
[…]
The cucumber was perfect, this wondrous crunch and the tang of balsamic; it felt like his whole mouth was alive, eating the food Ma’am decided to feed him. It felt so intimate he could barely breathe. So it was good that Ma’am ate the next few bites herself, doing that delighted wiggle she did when she found something delicious.
I might’ve missed some, but you get the point.
Look, when it comes to writing about food, not everyone’s on the same level as Anthony Bourdain. But Xan West’s food writing reveals a limited perspective, as if their understanding of culinary critique was forged from McDonald’s billboards. There’s no depth, just quick little snapshots with advertiser-friendly buzzwords.
This book keeps reminding the audience that Ernest loves cooking, but let’s be real— He cooks like a damn child, with zero ambition in his ingredients or process. Was he promoted to head chef of the polycule after demonstrating he could boil water? And all of the food prepared by someone else sounds equally mundane and forgettable. Way to break the ol’ “Never trust a skinny chef” adage. I don’t trust him to go to the cupcake shop and pick out anything more adventurous than a lemon tart.
Anyway, back to the ending of Troublesome Crush, where Nora and Ernest have their first BDSM “sexy” time. I am using the most sarcastic of air quotes, since nothing explicitly horny comes of the harnessing/bake session.
I’ll be real, I don’t get it. I get the whole “sexy maid” fantasy, but it’s a little weirder if your fantasy ends with Maid-chan folding your laundry and calling an Uber. Really, there’s nothing else you want to do?
I’m cosigning my bewilderment as someone who’s drawn some pretty unusual and questionable porn. Sometimes as a joke, sometimes because I’m into that shit and literally no one else is making porn of it. There’s infinite ways sexuality can manifest. And I’d also like to co-cosign this as someone who reads a lot of slice-of-life manga. But even in the most mild and easygoing stories, there’s got to be some sort of payoff. And I guess the payoff here is the two metamors consummating their relationship in this atypical way. I guess. Sidestepping a more direct sexuality in this story feels wasted, but in-line with how dumb the rest of this played out.
I think my frustration/confusion (or bigotry, if you’re firmly on the author’s side) comes from the fact that this has the facade of horniness, but seems firmly committed to dodging the explicitly sexual.
For example. If you do beat off to the fantasy of “My sexy maid folded my clothes and just left because her shift was over” then you can get into sexual feelings of patheticness, the enticement of knowing she’ll come back, maybe the excitement of seeing her ass jiggle while she’s touching up the house. But what’s Troublesome Crush’s epilogue supposed to do, for anyone? I’m doing my best to empathize how someone can beat off to this (I ctrl+f searched for “asexuality” and it never came up to describe Ernest and Nora, so, presumably these two would be down to bump uglies).
I know by grumbling about this, I’m missing the whole damn point of the book. It’s “Supposed” to be cute and soft and no conflict and all cuddles, so the big damn (non) coom at the end is totally aligned with its values. But I’m just saying, man, wasted opportunity.
And I know this is just one author, and they’re not the BDSM Lorax who speaks for the Kink. But I have to wonder if kink feels it needs to fight against some of the outside stigma from The Vanillas.
I recently read “The Queering of Corporate America: How Big Business Went from LGBTQ Adversary to Ally,” the 2019 book by Carlos A. Ball. It’s a pretty solid overview of how big business pushed and responded to gay activism. I’ll say it puts a little too much praise for corpo America and dodges the issue of performative “rainbow capitalism,” but it felt like a decent enough entry point.
Anyway, the book touches a little on media representation. Ball observes that prior to the 1990s, gay characters in American mainstream media were often portrayed as violent, sociopathic, or depraved, and that totally sucked. Chapter 2 discusses a 1967 news special by Mike Wallace titled “The Homosexuals.” This special included interview clips from gay individuals, making it the first time many viewers heard directly from queer people. While it was a significant step forward, the tone of the special was predominantly cautionary:
At one point during the show, Wallace used a concerned voice to tell his viewers that “the average homosexual, if there be such, is promiscuous. He is not interested or capable of a lasting relationship like that of a heterosexual marriage. His sex life, his love life, consists of a series of one-chance encounters at the clubs and bars he inhabits. And even on the streets of the city—the pick-up, the one-night stand, these are characteristics of the homosexual relationship.” Wallace concluded the show by stating that this is “the dilemma of the homosexual: told by the medical profession he is sick; by the law that he’s a criminal; shunned by employers; rejected by heterosexual society—incapable of a fulfilling relationship with a woman, or for that matter with a man. At the center of his life he remains anonymous. A displaced person. An outsider.”
Harsh, but I’d guess that’s more or less what a layman thought of the “average homosexual” at the time. I wonder if kink culture is facing a PR crisis nowadays. Is there a push to make kink look cute and fluffy to counter the idea that everyone involved is a 50 shades style sociopath? Or is just the author, Xan West, the lone nutjob? Even if they’re an outlier, it makes me feel hopeless- even if I’m removed from this group.
I see this with the furry fandom: guys who constantly insist that “furries are normal” and it’s “just” a fandom and we’re not all constantly having sex in costumes, eeeewww. It’s all about about making a big damn show about how they’re totally harmless, don’t worry, no one here’s actually pissing in a litterbox. This is frustrating because most normies will either shrug off furry as just some anime/geek thing, or they see anything even remotely in that sphere as unhinged degeneracy. And I just want to know. Why are you cloying so hard for out-group approval? Is a mild acknowledgement from normies more gratifying than the fursuit sex you swear you’re not having?
I thought even in the sexual degenerate world of “kink and showtunes” there wouldn’t be the constant self-conscious need to “prove” yourself as being morally pure. I expect it in polite society, in church, even in irl furry hangouts. And here it is, manifesting in a new way.
The characters in Troublesome Crush are constantly second-guessing and correcting themselves over saying and doing the right thing. And a lot of that is due to the protagonist’s anxiety, but even if you grade everyone else on a curve it’s not like anyone is able to just fuckin chill. It’s a constant stream of negotiation that surpasses the typical “vanilla” dealings in dating, sex, or hanging out. This is not just about figuring out where to eat; everything is a high-stakes game of psychological brinkmanship.
This excerpt from chapter 3 gets at the heart of it, although the narrative insists they aren’t:
“Yeah I get that. I mostly stick to other fat and disabled play partners and dates, myself. Though there are exceptions, like Gideon.” [Nora] smiled as she said Gideon’s name.
Wait, did that mean that she didn’t know about Gideon’s depression? Or maybe that she didn’t think of depression as a disability? How could he find out what she meant?
“I get what you mean about wanting disabled partners; there are some things that are just easier for me when I’m with someone else who’s also dealing with mental illness. Things I don’t need to explain.”
“Yes, exactly.” She nodded. “It helps to be able to say I’m triggered, or I’m flaring, and they have a sense of that, even if their mental illness looks different.”
Oh good. Maybe she just meant that Gideon wasn’t fat, and that’s what she was referring to earlier. Or maybe Gideon hadn’t told her about his depression. Ernest needed to respect that, if that was the case. Though after nine months, he would hope trust was there. But, on the other hand, Gideon did keep things pretty close to his chest. Ernest needed to ask him if he had told her, because otherwise he might totally blurt it out accidentally. Oh, he had gotten distracted and lost his end of the conversation, hadn’t he? What had she said?
“Yep. It’s good not to have to explain so much,” he said softly, smiling at her.
Then later, in chapter 7, Nora and Ernest are talking over instant messenger:
Ernest: Thanks. Ok. So. Um. I’m demiromantic. Do you know what that means?
Nora: It’s kind of like demisexual, except it’s on the aromantic spectrum, instead of the asexual spectrum, right?
Ernest: Um. Well, the thing is, aromanticism isn’t the same as asexuality, but people often talk about it like arospec folks like me are just another kind of asexual. So, it’s kind of a touchy thing to compare them.
Nora: Oh, I’m sorry. My best friend JD is demisexual. I have a regular play partner, Lizette, who’s aroace. I was extrapolating from what I know from them, but I didn’t mean to group things together as if they are all the same. Maybe you could tell me what it means to you to be demiromantic?
Ernest: Ok. So, I have a complicated relationship with romance, in general. It takes me a while to recognize when I am romantically attracted to someone, and it’s more difficult for me to figure out. And I generally have romantic feelings after I have some other kind of connection with someone, some other kind of relationship.
Ernest: Like for me, romantic attraction builds on a foundation of other emotions and intimacy. Romance is not the center of my romantic relationships, or more important than other aspects of my relationships. I’m in love with Gideon, but I also am family with him, live with him, and am his good boy, and those things are just as important to me. I was his good boy first, then family, before romance came into the picture with him.
Nora: Ok. This is good to know. Thank you, Ernest. I have a clearer picture, I think. So when you say you have a crush, then…does that mean you’re romantically attracted to me?
Ernest: Yes, that’s what I mean.
Nora: *slow smile*
This is where I feel my autism truly emerges (Now’s the time to clarify that I don’t actually do 100 pushups a day, it’s more like 25, and they’re all on an incline since I’m paranoid about damaging my foppish little wrists). I’m too self-absorbed to see these social balancing acts and identity assertions as worth the effort. I'm sure there’s a bigger reason to assert yourself, in like a Harvey “If We All Come Out, They Can’t Stop All Of Us” Milk kind of way, but the mindset in Troublesome Crush feels like everyone’s taken a part-time job as an unpaid PR intern for The Cause.
Is there a better way? I don’t know.
Pardon the mumblemouth filler words I’m about to use, because I’m not really confident about what I’m about to say. But I’m personally divided on all of this. If I could have a little less of the typical honne/tatamae attitude about my own sexuality, I’d be happier. If I’m asked what’s my type, I give a non-answer. If someone presses harder, I’ll shrug and say I’ve only been with women. And if that’s not enough I’ll try to dismiss it with “I like to read” or “I’m too cheap for a serious girlfriend.” Depends on the audience. Although, I know the best answer is telling them to fuck off.
(And if someone’s cool, like, level-9-friendship-cool, I have no problem sharing that Volo is the love of my life. Or that the trans chick I mentioned earlier just texted me back for a second hookup.)
It’s not something that comes up a lot, since I’ve been to more churches than gay bars. But anywhere with a higher-than-average gay population, some goddamn busybody will inevitably manifest and ask what’s my deal. And sometimes-not always-they’ll act like they’re trying to make me “admit” a queerness. It can feel like either a “gotcha” or a “hey, are you a narc?” line of questioning. Or maybe it’s some convoluted way of flirting. I don’t know. Not interested in finding out, or preparing an answer for next time I’m asked.
Which is completely opposite of Troublesome Crush and the confident pronoun parade it gives to describe all of its characters.
But I look at the mindset in Troublesome Crush and none of it seems particularly happy, or anything I’d want to strive for. I guess this works for their particular branch of autism/anxiety. I guess. I don’t get why they’re doing all this if it isn’t making them happy. Gideon wasn’t exactly thrilled about his two birthday parties, yet he went along with it. What’s the point?
Yes, I am still grappling with the absurdity of an adult needing two birthdays.
I deserve a medal for going this long without shoving my own writing in everyone’s face as the “Good” example of polyamory fiction. My light novel, “PolyMonFur: How To Be Polyamorous in a World of Monsters and Furries” has an autistic protagonist (their fantasy world hasn’t formally adopted the DSM, so you won’t see any in-text confirmation of this), and there’s even a chapter where another character turns directly to the camera to explain what’s an polyamory. I have zero no problem boasting that it is the best English-language light novel about autism and polyamory. But the goals/expectations/vibe are pretty opposite of Troublesome Crush.
So instead, I’d like to bring “AniApt ~Animal Apartment~” as my example for show and tell.
AniApt isn’t explicitly about polyamory. But it’s going for a similar feel-good hangout vibe as Troublesome Crush, most conflicts dissolve into nothing, and a lot of it is just character anticipating something bad will happen and it all turns out to be a big shrug.
Something I’ve always wanted to work into AniApt is why Chien and Riri are friends. I don’t mean like a “how they met” backstory, but more of getting into their emotional connection.
Chien is the type-A salaryman square, while Riri is the fun-loving, openly bisexual/poly/flamboyant roommate. And I think the core of why they would be friends is they have a deep, mutual respect for each other. There’s some friends you hang with because they’re funny, interesting, shared interest, proximity. Chien and Riri have something a little deeper.
Both parties (maybe secretly) feel if they could be 10% more like the other, they would be better off. They’re both so wildly opposite, that they feel just being around the other is just good for them.
So I look at Troublesome Crush, and it does give me that same feeling. Kind of.
This mindset is completely alien to how I operate. But I don’t know if I’m looking at a Chien or a Riri, they seem to be the worst mix of both. If I got 10% closer to whatever mindset occupied by Troublesome Crush, I know I would be miserable.
Copyright Disclaimer: Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use. I’m not trying to be an art theif, just a critic. Pls no bulli.Credits since I’m gonna pretend Substack isn’t just a social media website and counts towards a GED:
Image credits:
1. Image of a white Pomeranian puppy on brown leaves:
• Credit: Photo by Monika Grabkowska on Unsplash
2. Image of a woman driver stuck in traffic jam:
• Credit: Photo by Mykola Romanovskyy on iStock
3. “No Swimming” artwork by Norman Rockwell:
• Credit: Artwork titled “No Swimming” by Norman Rockwell, available on Google Arts & Culture
4. “The Breakup Tour” book cover:
• Credit: Book cover of “The Breakup Tour” on Goodreads
5. “Their Troublesome Crush” book cover:
• Credit: Book cover of “Their Troublesome Crush” on Goodreads
Book credits:
1. West, X. (2019). Their Troublesome Crush. Independently Published.
2. Wibberley, E., & Siegemund-Broka, A. (2024). The Breakup Tour. Berkley.
3. Ball, C. A. (2019). The Queering of Corporate America: How Big Business Went from LGBTQ Adversary to Ally. Beacon Press.
4. Archer, J., & Jockers, M. L. (2016). The Bestseller Code: Anatomy of the Blockbuster Novel. St. Martin’s Press.
5. Diamond, A. (2017, August 20). The Bestseller Code. Andrew Diamond. Retrieved from https://adiamond.me/2017/08/the-bestseller-code/
Thank you for reading!
