I wanted to love this so so much and it has a really strong start, it’s just wayyyy slower than I liked. I appreciated the description and background, it just seems to take forever to get to the actual story portion!

DNF around 25%. It was moving really slowly, I was bored, and already started skimming. To be fair, lit fic just has not been my mix lately. I haven’t found something I’ve really enjoyed in the genre in a while, but I’ll always keep picking things up and hoping! So this one just wasn’t for me. At least it was queer!! We love to see it. If a lit fic doesn’t hit right for me then everything I may have highlighted and tabbed and the quotes I would have waxed poetic over just end up feeling disingenuous or pretentious and flowery.

Love the premise of this book but found the writing to be a bit hard to get into. I couldn’t find a way to get anchored into the text.

Thank you to NetGalley, author Emma Copley Eisenberg, and Random House Publishing Group: Hogarth for providing me with a free ARC in exchange for my honest opinion!

I am so sad this didn't quite work for me. Queer literary fiction is my favorite genre, and on paper this was pretty much everything I could have wanted from a book. In terms of the queer art and queer road trip plot line, specifically "Part 2" in the book, this did work for me. I enjoyed seeing Pennsylvania through the eyes of Bernie and Leah and found that Eisenberg's writing really shone here. Parts 1 and 3 felt super disjointed in comparison, and the biggest thing that didn't really work for me personally was the narrator. It didn't feel necessary and wasn't ever fleshed out enough to make a large impact on me as a reader. I found myself instead annoyed and a little confused to have to be interrupted with the flow of Bernie and Leah's story to read an omniscient perspective. I also would have loved for part 3 to be longer where they are actually showing their work to again get a better sense of who they are and what they're doing. There was some interesting commentary on body and gender roles all throughout, but unfortunately, I found myself bored in parts and just wanting to get through it because I wasn't connecting as much to the story as I was hoping. Maybe I'll try again one day because I know it's been super acclaimed by people whose tastes are usually the same as mine!

So smart and well done. This is a novel about a road trip and housemates and love and self-discovery. The writing is top notch. It starts in a way that instantly captured my interest in a coffee shop. I could "see" these characters and wanted to hang out with them. I love stories with smart women who grow and learn and develop and this scratched that itch. Thanks to the publisher for the copy. Loved it.

4.5 rounded up. This novel is an incredible exploration of creativity, the push and pull of found family, and the intricacies of perspective. Each character is richly developed, making their individual and collective journeys compelling. I also just adored the way the book dealt with fatness and queerness - extremely lived-in and realistic, while handling everything with the utmost grace. The way the narrative is framed is exquisite, putting the narrator's perspective in the forefront when it makes sense.

There were a few pieces that didn't totally click for me; the plot was sometimes slightly hard to follow as it jumped around a bit, and I felt like I needed to keep track of where we were when I likely didn't need to. However, the vibes were excellent - this book is very vibey.

Overall, Housemates is a novel that quite deftly and beautifully sees the characters, joins them on a creative journey, and reminds the reader of how community and artistry not only can be intertwined, but they should be.

Housemates is, on the surface, a road trip novel in which Bernie (a photographer) and Leah (a writer) set out to document life in rural Pennsylvania. But it’s so much more than that. This is a celebratory book, a novel that celebrates art (both the act of creating it and the act of absorbing it), friendship, queerness, and what it means to be alive (and finding joy in being alive) during a politically and socially fraught time in American history. It reads like a love letter: to Pennsylvania, to youth, to the human body, to falling in love – with yourself, with someone else, and with life itself. It’s about being messy and imperfect and helpful and hurtful – about how it feels to be seen and understood, and how it feels to be misunderstood. It’s a truly special book.

Emma Copley Eisenberg has created such incredible characters in Bernie and Leah, who are written with so much texture and tenderness that you can feel Eisenberg’s love for them emanating from the page. Their desires and insecurities, their regrets and their secrets, are so deeply felt in the narrative. They are complex and flawed and real. The people they interact with on their road trip are fascinating, subverting expectations at every opportunity as Eisenberg delves into the soul of Pennsylvania, a place she describes as having “two hearts.” Through Bernie’s mentor, a photographer and professor accused of inappropriate conduct with his female students, Eisenberg raises thoughtful questions surrounding whether or not an artist can ever truly be separated from their art.

But what’s truly wondrous about Housemates is Eisenberg’s lively, richly-detailed writing, which immersed me completely in the world of the novel. Her descriptions of Bernie’s photographs are vivid and evocative and created such a clear, striking picture in my mind. Surely it couldn’t have been an easy task to write a book about a visual art form – but Eisenberg totally nailed it. I don’t know if I’ve ever read writing quite like hers, and I can’t wait to read whatever she writes next.

4.5 stars instead of 5, only because I’m not certain the narrator's POV, while certainly interesting, was necessary, and the ending felt a bit flat compared to the rest of the book. Otherwise, Housemates was a near-flawless, unforgettable reading experience. Thank you to Hogarth for the early reading opportunity.

3.4/5 - To start thank you to NetGalley for providing this ARC to me well before the release date! I was so excited to read this from the gorgeous cover to the interesting premise (QUEER ART ROADTRIP!).
The writing style reminded me of a friend retelling a story that happened to them but 5-10 years in the past. It was full of a longing(?) that was confusing and disconnected. I thought this would serve a purpose and shift as the plot picked up, but it ended up taking on a singular quality.
The story was compelling and the characters felt like real people. Their stories and backgrounds remind me of my close friends who live in the gayborhood of DC and felt very true to the life of a group home and the transitional young adulthood phase of your 20s as a queer person. I enjoyed the first 35(?)% of the book before the actual roadtrip began because it really exemplified those relationships and dynamics.
Once the story started to get on track with the two main characters driving and pursuing their respective crafts, it started to fall flat. The development of the Daniel Dunn plot felt bizarre and departed from the earlier setup/tone. Also there were instances where the writing felt harsh, this may have been on purpose but at times was a lot.

The true shining star in this book was the active relationships/dynamics between characters, though the general adventure felt a bit contrived.

I really liked this book! It was such a fun read to prepare for my pride month marathon. I adored the queer representation and the photography aspect of it all. I definitely want to read more books by this author in the future. Recommended if you like road trip books and lots of queer rep!

The characters in “Housemates” had some moments of nuance that were beautiful and challenging and realistic but the way the author structured the book was tricky for me. I didn’t expect so much character/narrator backstory before Leah and Bernie went on the road trip which meant I was speeding past some thoughtfully written observations/descriptions. I also felt out of the loop on why there was a narrator that was separate but connected to the main characters. It made it harder to piece together which character was feeling what at times because the narrator’s perspective was included. I wish the ending had felt either more wrapped up or more forward looking. It felt abrupt in a way that left me a little confused.

I think i missed the memo on why this an excellent book…. It’s not a bad book, i just had a lot of expectations going in.
Fat and queer bodies reps.
thank you NetGalley for the free eARC!

I feel like this book is going to dominate the "Best Of" lists this year, but unfortunately I had a really hard time connecting with the writing. It felt a little too detached and emotionless for me, even during moments that should have tugged at the heartstrings. BUT I think I'm going to have an unpopular opinion on this one.

Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for sending me this book!

Suuuch a unique and emotional little novel that pulls inspiration from two real-life 20th century queer artists - photographer Berniece Abbot & her partner, writer Elizabeth McCausland - and reimagines them and their artistic collaboration in modern day Philadelphia as the characters of Bernie & Leah. It is not apparent from the book blurb that that Bernie and Leah are fictional, futurized versions of their real life counterparts. I wish Eisenberg had included this knowledge in an introduction rather than a thoughtful post hoc authors note, as it is a dimension that elevates the story from memorable fiction to a tender homage to forgotten queer history.

About half of the novel concerns the messy, beautiful, tumultuous queer drama of Bernie & Leah's lives as two of five housemates in a lively post-grad apartment. The other half tracks Leah & Bernie on a rambling artistic road trip, fondly reminiscent of Thelma and Louise & the overall genre of queer-coded rand trip, through the countryside of rural Pennsylvania as they work to execute a bold artistic vision. Though the first half is entertaining, the story really comes to life when the pair hits the road. Despite the whole novel being deeply rooted in Philadelphia and Pennsylvania at large, their time in the city lacks a concrete sense of place. Possibility this is because white queer leftist experiences are awkwardly universal - I couldn't stop imagining Bernie & Leah's house & life in the city as copypasted onto my vaguely similar experiences as a white queer leftist in Somerville, Massachusetts.

Throughout the novel, Eisenberg invokes bold and refreshing commentary on gender, queerness, fatphobia, and the role of identity in shaping both art & activism. The only piece that really didn't land for me was the odd framing of the story through the perspective of unnamed neighbor watching Bernie & Leah and imagining their lives. While technically I can read this as an allegory for Eisenberg themselves shaping a narrative from the lives of the historical figures being referenced, it adds a level of abstraction that doesn't otherwise fit with the grounded nature of the novel.

I wish I was still following Leah and Bernie around Pennsylvania, watching them fall more in love with themselves and each other. Housemates is a book that will stay with me for a long time.

I love a road-trip novel, and this is (mostly) a good one.

I liked the concept behind this one a lot, and the writing and dialogue are quite good. Structurally the book has some major problems though, and it really affected how I felt about it in the end.

I will echo the issue other readers put forth about this book, which is the baffling inclusion of the unnamed narrator. This feels like a miss in terms of storytelling. It feels gimmicky and needlessly takes away from the narrative of the two protagonists, and I kept waiting for it to mean something, for this person’s identity to be revealed, for…anything that justifies their presence, and there’s just nothing. It makes the end of the book a bit of a letdown and makes it feel unfinished.

On the positive side, Bernie’s story arc and the issues with her deceased mentor’s work and its effect on her own work is fascinating and made for great content. Leah’s character is a lot less interesting because she isn’t given the same type of intriguing backstory, though she’s no less likable.

The book is worth reading purely for the road trip content, and also for the well-drawn and sympathetic protagonists. With a bit of structural cleanup, this is probably a 4 or 5 star book.

There are many layers to this book. It’s narrated by a character largely removed from the main action, an older woman who is mourning her partner, whom she refers to as her “Housemate.” This narrator observes Bernie and Leah, roommates-turned-artistic collaborators-turned couple, who are the novel’s main driving force. They meet when Bernie answers an ad for another queer roommate, and though there are flirtations between various of the five roommates, Bernie and Leah are drawn to each other especially through the legacy of Bernie’s complicated photography mentor.

I was drawn into this one by the promise of a queer road trip. Initially, I was hooked, especially since Eisenberg’s prose is keenly observant, often profound. I loved the narrator’s descriptions of her grief tinged with the homophobia that shaped her relationship. However, as the book went along, I found that it tried to tackle too much without fully achieving most of its goals. The frame narrator felt underdeveloped, the road trip through central Pennsylvania short (though they do stay at a “Patel motel,” something I want to track literary references to!) and a bit heavy-handed. The Me Too accusations against Bernie’s mentor (who treated her fine) also deserved some more exploration.

It felt like this book was for and about the kind of people for whom Trump’s election in 2016 was a major perception-shifting moment (no shade, but that is not me). Within this, though, Eisenberg critically examines whiteness, including in how class and fatness differentiate Bernie and Leah, and I found that compelling if, again, a bit underbaked. Ultimately, this is about sticky, uneven relationships anchored by artistic collaboration, itself uncomfortably magical, and trying to understand yourself in relation to another person and a sprawling country.

This was a pretty interesting read. At first I was bit confused, but as the story progressed I began to connect with the characters and their journey. It was nice to go along on a road trip that felt authentic and cathartic. By the end, I felt like I had good understanding of the characters and their lives. Definitely a sweet story I would recommend others check out.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the arc.

Bernie and Leah are contemporary artists trying to find ways to make their marks on the world, but in very different media. Bernie is a photographer, trained in large format photos by a master of this lost art, her former professor, Daniel Dunn. She has a good eye and has made some images that got good reviews, but she hasn’t made enough to support herself with her art. Instead, Bernie’s working at a coffee shop and a library just to make ends meet. She’s recently been accepted to live in a big house in Philadelphia, sharing with four roommates, including Leah. Leah is a journalist, and also a grad student. They’re non-binary, and have a relationship with another housemate, Alex. That said, there’s some frisson of attraction between Bernie and Leah nearly from the start and they intrigue one another.

Bernie has recently been notified that Professor Dunn has bequeathed his estate to her. They haven’t spoken in some time, and he became an alcoholic recluse following accusations of impropriety with other female students. Bernie has mixed feelings about the inheritance, needing the money, but repulsed by gaining anything from Dunn’s legacy. Leah has a grant to write about people and places that are far more interesting than the vignettes they submit for a small paper. Leah thinks the trip to collect what Bernie can from the inheritance might provide inspiration for both of them to get back to their artistic endeavors.

Over the course of a few weeks, they tour the highways and byways of Pennsylvania, pausing often to set up the camera for Bernie to document whatever catches her fancy. Leah thinks that their writing could supplement the clarity that Bernie’s images evoke. Changing Pennsylvania, their collaborative work, is meant to be a visual and verbal mobile art installation that will serve humanity as it educates about art. This brainchild is mostly Leah’s, but Bernie is definitely on board. They develop a strong connection to one another, one that Leah really wants and one that Bernie’s afraid to trust. She’s sure that returning to the house will mean a return of Alex to Leah’s bed.

This was an interesting take on twisting real life queer pioneers into a contemporary fiction novel. It doesn’t actually behave like a romance, though there are romantic elements, and a lifelong love that develops between Bernie and Leah. Bernie is modeled after acclaimed photographer and documentarian, Berenice Abbott, while Leah is modeled after Elizabeth McCausland, a famous art critic who was Berenice’s life and art partner in the early to mid-20th century. The story here isn’t meant to be biographical, but there are elements that somewhat parallel the kind of “housemates” life that Berenice and Elizabeth may have experienced in the 1930s when they met, as they needed to create space for their love in a way that wouldn’t ruffle other’s feathers. There’s also a character, Ann, telling part of the story, narrating as if watching Bernie and Leah, finding their growing love in the open, in contemporary times, to be a balm over her own tainted memories of the “housemate” she wasn’t allowed to publicly claim, despite their years of “quiet” or clandestine love. Ann felt modeled after an older Berenice, to some degree.

I liked the story. It has a lot of social justice themes and some bold takes on how queer persons with privilege should use it to the betterment of all their community. Leah and Bernie certainly echo their real-life counterparts, because those women were committed to striving for equality for all. The format of the book was a bit off-putting to me, with no quotes and the constant changing of POV. Pacing and transitions were a little odd, with all the head-hopping and flashback/flashforward moments. I sometimes struggled to determine if the characters were speaking to each other, or just considering what they might say if the event they pulled together the courage. This was especially true for Bernie’s parts because she really thinks a lot about what she’s going to say before she opens her mouth.

I think fans of speculative fiction, or those who enjoy twists on the historical archive of queer pioneers, would enjoy this story.

this was one of my most anticipated reads of the year, but i'm dnfing at 54% in.

unfortunately, it was a letdown for me and i tried, i really tried, including waiting for release day to see if consuming this on audiobook would help.

here were my issues:

1. the writing. there are no quotation marks. none. this style makes for a very confusing read for me, personally. i also felt like the writing felt very much like i was reading a technical paper written in school.

2. how weight/fatness was written about. more writing issues included the very strange way that fatness was written about. here's an actual quote: "But there was Leah's hand. Small nails, rounded pudgy fingers with little pockets of luxurious fat stuffed under the skin between the joints." as a person who is fat, i'm certainly okay with acknowledging weights of characters, but this writing felt fetishistic to me, almost?

3. i dnfed about 54% in when there was this line: "Leah had spent more than one hour of her life googling "Emily Ratajkowski breasts" and masturbating to the results." literally, what is this. emily ratajkowski is a real person. why would you write this?

4. for a "queer road trip book" the actual roadtrip doesn't start until a good 30% of the way in. at that point in the story, there was a side plot about a disgraced photographer that served as a mentor to one of the main characters, but i felt extremely icky reading this as the reason he was canceled was because he was preying sexually on his students. and yet his chapters felt weirdly romanticized with part of the roadtrip including a jaunt to a cabin where he'd left the bulk of his life's work to one of the main characters.

5. even despite all of this, i felt extremely disconnected from all the characters and it felt next to impossible to be engaged. big disappointment for me.

Happy pub day to housemates! tldr; go buy and read this book (especially for Pride Month).

In the beginning, I had conflicting feelings. I wasn't drawn to either of the main characters, Bernie or Leah, two queer mid-20s trying to figure out their lives in West philadelphia. Part I of the book felt choppy at points and the mysterious omniscient narrator confused me. This narrator seemed to be stalking Bernie and Leah - excuse me? There were flash backs that didn't seem to transition well. As I said before, choppy.
By Part II when we get to the crux of the book and they are on the road trip across pennsylvania creating art and a big portion of the trip talking and sharing deep thoughts, i fell in love. I loved the dialogue, and the setting of a road trip is described perfectly as I've driven a lot of those roads of rural PA.
By the last few pages, I was tearing up. This is a beautiful coming of age story, reckoning with queer identities, body dysmorphia, love, romance, and the ultimate question - will we ever be good enough?

Thanks Netgalley for providing this ARC.