Editor’s Note: This article is a review and includes subjective thoughts, opinions and critiques.
Do facts add up to truth?
It is a fact that I mostly enjoyed reading Emily Henry’s latest novel, “Great Big Beautiful Life.” Henry is one of the most popular contemporary romance novelists, and has written five best-sellers in the past five years — all of which I have read. The truth, though, is that the plot of “Great Big Beautiful Life” gives protagonist Alice Scott several opportunities to grow, but she doesn’t show enough development by the end of the book.
In “Beautiful Life,” Alice, a journalist and aspiring biographer, tracks down Margaret Ives — the heiress to the Ives media empire. The formerly infamous socialite is now a recluse who has spent decades out of the public eye. Alice travels to Georgia for a month-long trial to interview Margaret and “audition” for the chance to write her biography. The biggest obstacle standing between her and the job? Hayden Anderson, a Pulitzer Prize-winning writer also competing for the role.
What I love most about Henry’s oeuvre is her fresh take on well-worn tropes. At first it appears as if Alice and Hayden’s relationship will follow an enemies-to-lovers trajectory. However, this trope is subverted as the preternaturally nice Alice does not make enemies — she likes everyone, which I found a bit unrelatable. Meanwhile, the reticent Hayden seems quite unwilling to play nice. He maintains a strict regimen of a morning run followed by green tea, and he always orders the healthiest thing on the menu (extremely unrelatable).
According to the rules of the romance genre, opposites must attract. As the pair continually cross paths, they become objects of curiosity to each other because of their stark differences.
Henry’s deft ability to reconstruct tropes to reveal complexities makes their attraction believable. Alice is the prototypical people pleaser who sees the best in people — a quality that makes her try to make people like her. This explains why Hayden cannot refuse her kindness, and he is much more pleasant after she treats him to a croissant. And their personalities are complementary: when Alice mentions her father died and quickly puts a positive spin on the loss, Hayden assures her she has the right to feel upset. He has much to learn about the benefits of refined carbohydrates, and he also has the potential to teach Alice about the importance of sitting with negative emotions.
Alice’s relationship with Margaret isn’t characterized by as much ease. As part of Alice’s “audition,” Margaret insists on recounting the Ives clan history. As she works her way down the family tree, Alice realizes the heiress is only disclosing parts of the past.
The long passages recounting Margaret’s family lore are some of the most compelling. Unspooling the mystery of the Ives’s history, it’s hard not to be engrossed in the saga of ambition that built the “House of Ives,” and how this drive petered out as subsequent generations rested on the family laurels. The Ives’s newspapers pioneered the presentation of salacious stories as objective truths. While Margaret may not have entered the family business, she learned a thing or two about the selective use of facts.
Margaret’s antics complicate Alice’s work. Still, there is much to be gleaned from what is shared: Margaret has suffered under the weight of her family’s legacy and sees herself as the sum of all the tragedies that have ever befallen her.
Instead of learning from Margaret’s story — that pushing people away cannot be justified under the guise of love — Alice practically makes the same mistake. She has several opportunities to reflect on her choices, but takes none of them. Her optimism that all will naturally turn out well is her fatal flaw. Vexing protagonist aside, Henry’s narrative construction also leaves something to be desired. There is an arc with Alice’s mother (who shames her daughter about her career) that almost forces self-reflection but is dropped. Then there’s Theo, a man Alice has been dating intermittently without defining their relationship. Frustratingly, both these conflicts are denied proper resolution.
Moreover, while Henry usually avoids trafficking in gender stereotypes, “Great Big Beautiful Life” makes constant references to Hayden’s size compared to Alice. There is a recurring bit where their knees bump each time they sit at a table. This begins as a commentary on the fact that she is a tall woman, but he is an even taller man. During a walk, he worries about her being covered in mosquito bites and she replies “Well, your arms have double the surface area of mine, so things will probably shake out pretty evenly.” I wrote “Give this a rest” in my review notes — my plea went unanswered. Surely, heterosexual romance is more than just one big gender confirmation project!
The fact is “Great Big Beautiful Life” is neither the best nor the worst of Henry’s novels. The truth is that Henry’s attempt at tackling historical fiction comes at the expense of Alice’s character growth. The reality, however, is that the story is still a compelling read with a multifaceted narrative.