Queenie by Candice Carty-Williams

“We aren’t here for an easy ride. People are going to try to put you in a mould, they’re going to tell you who you should be and how you should act. You’re going to have to work hard to carve out your own identity, but you can do it.”

I empathised a lot with Queenie, the book’s protagonist, as will many who had a big heartbreak in their 20s. Following a break-up with the man she thought she’d marry, Queenie’s identity (or rather, her perception of her identity) is thrown into question, from her role at work and connections with her friends to her relationships with men and her family.

We see a lot of self-destructive behaviour that is hard to read at times, but this is what makes Queenie’s character so real. For instance, we start to question the way we use hookups as something to numb pain to distract from reality or to try and make us feel good.

“Turns out the sadness that silence from the person you love brings can be temporarily erased by the dull thrill of attention from strangers.”

This book, laced with dry British humour and sarcasm, examines what it means to be a young, professional woman, who also happens to be black, in modern Britain. It’s also refreshing to see Carty-Williams explore mental health aspects in the novel.

Queenie is deep, it’s dark, it’s distinctive. Yes, I found myself cringing at Queenie and her friends’ behaviours, but that’s because they’re flawed people trying to figure it out while not always making the right choices.

Blurb: Meet Queenie.
Journalist. Catastrophist.
Expressive. Aggressive.
Loved. Lonely.
Enough?

A darkly comic and bitingly subversive take on life, love, race and family. Queenie will have you nodding in recognition, crying in solidarity and rooting for this unforgettable character every step of the way.