Reviewing 'Bride' (or Whatever New Remix Hazelwood Wrote.)

I was fully not going to write a review for this but nothing (not even the blurb) could have prepared me for the fact that our main character has a twin brother named Owen and her name is Misery. That mere detail alone is worth a review.

The last thing I expected after taking my sweet time reading Beloved, was to devour a romance about an arranged marriage between a Vampyre (stylistically spelled with that "y" for God knows what reason) and a werewolf, written by a woman who once only wrote about women in STEM - and one about chess- before this, but that's were I found myself. I should be disgustingly embarrassed at how fast I read this, a record of less than 24 hours even, but I was buying whatever this woman was selling me.

In fact I will buy whatever else this woman sells me honestly because it's just sooooo easy. Ali Hazelwood might very well be my comfort author at this point because there might be misery but there's never mystery to what her books will give me. Maybe every once in a while the woman won't be in STEM but instead a vampyre (stylistically spelt with a y) who can hack computers. And the man won't be a rival scientist, but instead a husband of convenience. However, at the end of the day she essentially writes the same story with the same characters. Some people will say Hazelwood writes badly because everyone (expect the main character) can tell where the story is going but I think she does it on purpose and I love her for it.

However, what fully shocks me about her latest remix of obsessed man meets oblivious woman is that as much as the man is still, huge and big and towering, the woman isn't small. Smaller than him perhaps, but she's described as tall which is surprising to say the least. Especially since after years and years of having this dynamic she decides to change it in a werewolf romance where huge man x small woman makes the most sense. But I guess applause to her for mixing that one part up. And that's the only part she mixes. If you've read one Hazelwood, you've read them all.

The first chapter is a bit of a drawl. It's so much waxing about interspecies politics and how it works, told exclusively through boring dialogue. And even with such a chapter one, the plot remains thinner than the beauty standards of the flapper era. It is as indiscernible as my mental health. You ask me what went on in this book, I have nothing to tell you really. And that's because I'm obviously not here for the plot. I don't read these books for the plot or setting or anything of that sort of value. Never have, never will. I'm only here for the fluff (pun intended, cause in case you forgot this is about werewolves), the pining and the love confessions that could go toe to toe with Bridgerton.


“I would take anything she chose to give me—the tiniest fraction or her entire world. I would take her for a single night knowing that I’ll lose her by morning, and I would hold on to her and never let go. I would take her healthy, or sick, or tired, or angry, or strong, and it would be my fucking privilege. I would take her problems, her gifts, her moods, her passions, her jokes, her body—I would take every last thing, if she chose to give it to me.”


I was feet kicking at this. And then there was plane scene that left me so scandalised I was blushing alone in my home. It's all very reminiscent of Wattpad 2014 where I stayed awake til the AMs giggling to myself over the stupidest werewolf fiction known to man. This read like a fond and cringey childhood memory. Also if you didn't grow up in the asylum that is Wattpad and have no clue what the omegaverse is, please do look it up cause the smut in this book feels like being hit with a freight train of questionable writing (and anatomical) decisions.

Needless to say, this book is a goofy time. Whatelse can you expect from a main character named Misery who is a vampire (stylistically spelled with a Y). It is so unserious that writing a serious review about it is damn near impossible. Books like this are why I tell people not to equate my reading habits to my intellect because half the time I'm not reading Chinua Achebe or Maya Angelou. I'm reading goofy supernatural romance with thin plots, dumb third act conflicts and tons of fluff and badly written spice. And I'm having a jolly good time doing it. Solid 3/5.

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