Book Review: Best Hex Ever by Elyse Rosenblum
I was genuinely excited to dive into Best Hex Ever, the debut novel by Elyse Rosenblum, especially considering its representation of a half-Moroccan female lead and the promise of a unique magical twist. As a book blogger who seeks out fresh voices and diverse narratives, this novel held so much potential for me. Yet, as I turned each page, I found myself grappling with discomfort and frustration, almost feeling like I was out of my depth in a setting where I desperately wanted to belong.
The premise of the story is enticing: our protagonist, Dina, is a bi half-Moroccan witch who’s torn between her cultural heritage and the pressures of a predominantly white, "woke" environment. This isn’t just a backdrop; it’s integral to the narrative. Imagine being the new POC student at a school where you feel like a sore thumb—Dina’s struggle to conform while trying to express her identity hit home hard. There were moments where it felt like the story was trying so desperately to fit into the mold of modern academia and cultural discourse, and that it missed the mark.
The romantic subplot involving Dina and her towering, dark-haired love interest—a museum curator with an elaborate backstory of two moms—felt, at times, overwhelmingly contrived. Not that I have anything against LGBTQ narratives (two of my favorite reads this year hail from that world), but here, it seemed riddled with clichés and predictability. I could spot the "wedding fling" trope a mile away—how many times have we been there?
Then there was the portrayal of Moroccan culture that left me uneasy. A personal note: my sister-in-law is Moroccan, and we’ve had deep discussions about the misrepresentation and stereotypes surrounding Moroccan witches. Rosenblum’s depiction, while intending to celebrate culture, danced dangerously along the lines of crass simplification—think a moonlit, naked ritual that felt jarring rather than magical. To see Dina approach her love interest, unclothed and asking, "What are you doing?" felt more awkward than romantic.
The writing style, while colorful in parts, felt cluttered and at times rushed. The pacing stumbled, particularly as the climactic conflict wrapped up in a flurry of resolution that felt far too easy. I found myself wishing for depth and nuance, especially given the rich cultural tapestry the story had the potential to weave.
In the end, I wrestled with so much about this book, and I appreciate Elyse’s attempt to craft a narrative around a bi half-Moroccan witch. But the execution left me wanting more—more authenticity, more depth, and more understanding of the complexities of identity. It’s a light read, likely to captivate those who enjoy quirky rom-coms sprinkled with magic, but for readers seeking genuine cultural representation, it may fall short.
If you’re looking for something whimsical with a splash of magic and don’t mind a few surface-level sketches of culture, Best Hex Ever could be a delightful page-turner for you. However, for those of us craving a deeper connection to the characters and their backgrounds, it’s tough to shake that lingering feeling of trying too hard to fit in.
All in all, it’s a reminder of how important it is to approach storytelling with authenticity, especially when touching on cultures far richer than what can often be portrayed between covers. Happy reading! 🌙📚
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