I loved the writing of Leah Reader so its great that now we have this voice and then some in Elliot Wake.

I've read a few of Elliot's titles now, and I think his writing style just isn't for me. The stories are beautiful and I like the characters, but everything is too dark and heavy for me.

I’ve read all of Elliot Wake’s books, from Unteachable through Black Iris to Cam Girl, and I’ve watched the way his fiction has evolved from the earliest Leah Raeder days. Though I’ve had mixed results all along (Unteachable pissed me off, Black Iris surprisingly delighted me, and Cam Girl I was torn on), I can say with some amount of authority (how much that is you can decide on your own; I’m not claiming expertise here, but I do have knowledge) that Bad Boy is Wake’s weakest novel thus far.


Before I really launch into this review, which is going to consist of a lot of quotes from the ARC (note that they may have been changed in the final copy), be aware that, though this isn’t officially a series, this is totally a series. Characters from Black Iris and Cam Girl are present for all of the book; it’s way past cameos. In fact, they all run a vigilante group that takes out asshole men together called, you guessed it, Black Iris. The opening chapters basically feel like a circle jerk (unfortunately not a literal one, which could have been fun) of how amazing and dark and sexy all of Wake’s characters are. It doesn’t make any damn sense for them all to be there together (especially since Ellis is here helping out but Vada is off somewhere doing something for some reason ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ). The first part of the book feels like reading a fan fic of Wake’s books where the gang’s all together, and they’re the Justice League, but super dark and sexy!

What has been consistent throughout the Raeder/Wake books is the darkly poetic and compelling prose, a gift for metaphor and dark humor. There’s some of that in Bad Boy, but the writing, like the novel as a whole, is a mess. The writing isn’t consistent in style. It alternates between being the simplest I’ve seen in a novel by Wake and florid, over-the-top metaphor that doesn’t fit with the simpler narration. Part of why the more poetic prose worked for me from Wake’s prior efforts was that it fit so perfectly with the characters and the tone, and it was used consistently, so it felt like an authentic voice. I just don’t get that here. Some metaphors threw me out of the book with their oddness. Some examples.

Her lips made me think of my finger parting freesia petals.

Oy with the petal metaphors already. (To be fair, this is the first one for you guys, but there’s soooo much in this book).

The gold stromata in her irises burned like fuses.

I googled the word “stromata” and I still don’t have any idea what this sentence is trying to say.

Her hands were all over me, raising static from the wool suit, then touching my face in pops of little blue sparks.

I don’t know why blue sparks are happening in the midst of this sex scene. After each of these, and many more lines, I paused and went “wait, what?” and that shouldn’t happen. With Black Iris, if I paused to read back over a line, it was because it was so beautiful and perfect (there were a few of these here too, but more of these clunkers), not because it actually made no sense.

It’s not just the writing that’s confused. Consequently, the characterization is a mess. The writing is Ren’s voice, and it’s all over the place. It doesn’t feel like it fits him, because I’m not sure than any human would really talk/think precisely like this. Banter felt forced and awkward. One example of this is the flirting between Tam and Ren, which mostly involves them calling each other Mr. and Ms. like rejects from 50 Shades of Grey.

“Tell me your story, Ms. Baylor.”

Drowsy smile. “You’ll think poorly of me, Mr. Grant.”

They do this over and over again, throughout the novel. Basically any time they’re having a “cute” bonding moment, they call each other Ms. Baylor and Mr. Grant, and it’s weird af. You guys aren’t in a business meeting. This is not THE PAST. It’s stilted and uncomfortable and not the least bit sexy. There’s a reason this is one of the many things people mocked about 50 Shades.

The novel as a whole feels like it’s not sure what its message is. Though there tend to be some feminist infodumps, Bad Boy comes across as meninist at times, due mostly to the unfortunate and problematic falsified rape plot that makes up the core of the novel. The villains are feminists (specifically TERFS, trans-exclusionary radical feminists), and there’s an undercurrent of the mistreatment of men while the novel also tries to point out privilege. It’s a mess, and it had me cringing and occasionally dropping my jaw out of shock. I have a couple of scenes to share, because I don’t think I can explain it sufficiently.

“What’s her motive? Why would she hurt you?”

“For being a man. That’s all the reason she’s ever needed to hurt someone. And all I needed.”

“That’s absurd,” Tam said.

“It’s not. All those men she sent me after—I never once questioned their guilt. Why? Because they’re men.”

The context for this is Ren starting to think that maybe Black Iris (the vigilante group run by Laney and staffed by the characters from all of Wake’s other novels) has turned on him because he’s a man. Thinking that Laney has betrayed him, he’s now assuming that the other men they’ve gone after were being unfairly maligned. I mean, if one case is falsified, they all must be, right?

“If he held something against you, you didn’t have full agency. You were a captive. A captive can’t give consent.”

Tam shrugged. “We’re all trapped by something. Freedom is an illusion. It’s the wind in your hair as you plummet off the cliff’s edge.”

This is a conversation Tam and Ren have in the context of past abusive relationships about consent. The fact that it seems to come down on consent not being a real thing is pretty fucking scary honestly. As I’ll say over and over again, I don’t know that this moment is intended to resonate like it does, but I find it completely terrifying.

Laney was no different from Norah. Both girls who’d accuse a man of the worst crime. Foment loathing and indignation against him. Because who wouldn’t believe a guy would do the worst thing? Of course he would. Rape culture, patriarchy, misogyny: these words had leaped from academic discourse into the common vernacular. Norah’s accusation needed no proof. Just her tears, and the whole history of men hurting women behind it.

While I don’t think (though I really can’t know for certain based on just the book) that Bad Boy was meant to convey how hard it is for men because of rape culture, there are times that that is exactly what the book manages to convey. It’s a controversial topic, and it’s handled sloppily, as though Ren himself doesn’t know how he feels about the subject. It’s a mess of internalized misogyny, even beyond what it is acknowledged within the book, and remnants of feminism from a transgender man who no longer knows quite how to feel about feminism.

How she’d believed my version of events. No question. Like Crito said, all a girl had to do was cry.

This is Ren agreeing with a misogynist internet troll who targets outspoken feminists, the same sort of outspoken feminists who end up being the villains of Bad Boy.

Choosing to center everything on a falsified rape makes a statement, and not a good one. The only thing to counteract this is a couple of paragraphs of narration which acknowledge that it’s fucked up without changing anything about the actual plot of the book:

Norah did most of the talking. Eager to take the blame, do penitence, absolve herself. The world held no pity for a woman who’d falsely accused a man of rape.

I knew how hard it would be on her. They’d hold her up as proof all girls were liars. They would hate her. They would say she should actually be raped, for lying about it.

Strange, how those so eager to punish girls for lying turned a blind eye to the boys who raped. As if the real goal was merely to inflict hurt on female bodies. To punish femininity.

I knew these things. I knew exactly how hard it was to be believed after you’d been hurt. Even by yourself.

But believing was Black Iris’s job. I needed my name cleared. My life back.

This bit of narrative monologuing acknowledges that this whole thing is completely fucked and will help rape culture, but Ren doesn’t give a shit. And I get that on some level. But also, this is a novel. Everything is a choice. And the choice was made here to depict a woman lying about rape, to make feminists the villains.

“Then why did you say it was rape?”

—Because I felt slutty, okay? Everyone made me feel like shit about it, except Ingrid. She said I could make myself look better if I played the victim. That I could fix my reputation.

I really just can’t fathom why this is where the novel ended up. It’s puzzling and upsetting and no doubt massively triggering. Ren’s so much angrier at the women who hurt him than the men who hurt him, and there’s no real in-text acknowledgement of that. He lets the man who raped him walk away after a relatively polite discussion, with only the threat of potential future attack should the man step out of line, while the female villain they debate murdering with her tied to a chair.

It’s a shame that the novel loses itself in this horrific plot, because there are the bones of an excellent book in here. There’s so much detail and true, honest emotion in the parts about transitioning. I learned a lot from that, and Wake does a brilliant job highlighting the complex emotional landscape of a transgender man. Unfortunately, that’s all mired in a muddied, problematic novel.

Bad Boy doesn’t feel like it knows what it wants to be. This novel is messy in characterization, sloppy in prose, and problematic in plot. I doubt I will be reading another Elliot Wake novel after this.

First published by Atria on December 6, 2016; published in paperback by Atria on August 22, 2017

Bad Boy is a twist on the “oppressed women get revenge against abusive men” school of fiction that has recently become popular. The twist is that the key characters are part of the LGBT community.

Bad Boy begins with Ren’s video journal (without the video). Ren is 19, a young woman who feels like a little boy. She’s starting to take testosterone. She is profoundly sad and feels a strong need to change her sexual identity. She isn’t confident that she is making the right change, but she is certain she cannot make her life worse.

Soon we’re in the present as Ren and her crew engage in "justice porn," trolling the trolls in search of vengeance. Ren is the muscle. Ellis is the tech genius. Blyth is the charmer. Laney is the leader. Armin, who owns the club where they hang out, is the profiler. Together, they are Black Iris.

Ren still vlogs and has achieved a certain YouTube fame, but she’s still not happy, largely because she still feels like an outsider who isn’t accepted by the larger world. One meaning of the book’s title is that Ren fears she’s bad at being a boy. But Ren also has a self-destructive streak that her friends recognize and that she can’t acknowledge.

Ren experiences a series of revelations — not everyone who loves her as a girl will also love her as a boy; you can’t change who you are on the outside without changing who you are on the inside — that make this a sort of transgender coming of age novel. It’s more that than the revenge novel it starts out to be, but the nature of the personal drama will probably be more meaningful to readers who relate to it.

The themes of “men exist only to hurt women” and “straight men are toxic” become a bit heavy-handed at times. There is, in fact, a fair amount of sexist stereotyping of men throughout the novel, but perhaps that’s fair payback for all the sexist stereotyping of women for which men are responsible. And the book is fair to the extent that it acknowledges that (some) women use men, although not necessarily in the same ways that (some) men use women. It also recognizes that some people, regardless of gender or sexual identity, make false accusations of sexual abuse and that the victims of false accusations suffer nearly as much as the victims of abuse.

Unlike some “women get revenge” books, the characters in this one at least think about whether vengeance makes the world better or worse. Some characters recognize that women are more likely to be protected by empowerment than vengeance — and that vengeance and empowerment are two different things — a point that less thoughtful novels never consider. And as the novel expressly notes, people of every gender and gender identity are oppressed and victimized for a variety of reasons.

Ren is filled with rage and, at least initially, doesn’t want to hear those messages — she just wants to hurt men — raising the point that the oppressed, once empowered, often become oppressors. At the same time, she wants to hurt herself, to rid herself of the empathy induced by estrogen so she can wallow in the violence induced by testosterone. One of the novel’s strongest points is that no gender has it easy, although transgenders have a rougher time than most.

The novel’s weakest point is the plot, which requires Ren to figure out who is a friend and who is a foe. The revenge plot eventually focuses on a fellow named Adam who hurt Ren when she was younger and (she believes) has found a new way to hurt her. The plot is only advanced intermittently. Most of the story involves relationship anxiety that, after a time, becomes a bit wearing.

Quite a bit of Bad Boy reads like a soap opera (jealousy among current and former lovers, former lovers trying to remain friends, etc.), albeit a soap opera geared to the particular relationship difficulties that arise in the LGBT community. Ren is a bundle of woes and hurts and anxieties that become a bit oppressive as the novel unfolds. I’m not a soap opera fan and those aspects of the book would have worked better for me if they had been toned down. Other readers might think they are the best part of the story.

So, a mixed review. The story is insightful but unfocused. And as I suggested, the novel might be more meaningful to readers who are part of the world it describes.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS

Bad Boy by Elliot Wake is the fourth and most recent book by the author formerly known as Leah Raeder. This novel features characters (and plenty of spoilers) from Black Iris and Cam Girl, but adds a new one as the main narrator, Ren. Ren is a transgender vlog star, who makes videos about his transition. He’s also a member of the notorious vigilante group Black Iris where he acts as the enforcer, and beats men who have hurt women. But after an unexpected twist to a Black Iris job, Ren ends up being the one in danger.

There’s a lot of intensity to Bad Boy and it surprised me that it was so much shorter than Wake’s previous two books, although it was still jam-packed with plot. What the shorter length did mean was that I didn’t find the romance element to be as strong, and I didn’t feel enough of a connection between Ren and Tamsin, except for a few moments. Again, this is a New Adult novel which is very graphic in the content, so it won’t be for everyone, but I am very glad I had the chance to read it. Bad Boy is a dark and introspective novel, and the fact that Wake wrote this as somebody who is transgender himself, makes it an especially valuable perspective. I’m all caught up on Wake’s writing now, but I will definitely pick up whatever he publishes next.

I totally fell in love with Unteachable, and then Black Iris became one of my favorite books. I also love Cam Girl, so I was beyond excited for Bad Boy. While didn’t love it, I did like it a lot!

Ren is an interesting character who is definitely dealing with some fucked up stuff. This falls a bit on the mystery/thriller side with Ren not knowing who to trust. Someone is screwing with his life big time, and it’s messing with him physically, mentally and emotionally. The danger is real, and we’re take on crazy ride of deceit, revenge, and love.

This brings me to how freaking happy I am that character’s I adore from previous books play a major role in Ren’s life! I do have to say though, it didn’t feel quite the same. I don’t know what it is, but I liked them better in their own books.

Anyway, something I appreciate is how much insight we get to Ren’s transition and what he goes through being transgender. It’s honest and doesn’t hold much back.

Overall, I enjoyed Bad Boy and look forward to reading more by Elliot Wake.

Anyone who has read my reviews of Elliot Wake's previous novels will not be surprised to learn that I enjoyed his latest. This author once again delivers up a novel that flirts with darkness, offers up unforgettable characters, and boasts some of the best character development I've had the pleasure of reading.

The writing within these pages is the kind that seems tailor made for the story it is telling. Elliot Wake has found his voice and his niche. The writing only improves with each subsequent novel and Bad Boy is no exception. It is his best novel yet and one that showcases his talent, and unflinching commitment to tell the story exactly how it needs to be told.

Ren is a complex character. One whose darkness is chased by light. Ren feels deeply and there is a goodness within him, but he's also very scarred from his experiences. There are many layers to this character, and part of what makes this book so engrossing is getting to unravel those layers. Getting to know Ren is what made this story for me, and my only complaint is that we did not get more time with him. This novel could have easily been longer and I would have welcomed it.

This novel is felt deeply as you're reading it. You cannot help but feel the passion, and emotion behind the work. It is immediately evident that Mr Wake has left a piece of himself within this story. There is something so visceral about Ren's journey that it easily resonates with any reader. It is all heart, soul, and guts and that makes for a emotional read.

There is an insight within these pages into what it means to transition and what it means to be trans. I feel that I have a better understanding of what someone who transitions experiences, and how they might feel before, during, and after the process. It is something so vital to their well being and this novel demands that this truth be recognized and felt. It is a case of life and death for them and that is made evidently clear within these pages. It offers up a realistic look at all the ups and downs a trans person could experience. It lets you see every struggle, every triumph and everything in between. It rips out your heart and asks you to feel what Ren is feeling and it nearly impossible not to.

Like many of the previous novels written by Elliot Wake, this one has gender at its core. The reader is meant to question what gender really is. What determines gender, and how we view it is the crux of Ren's story. Also at its heart is feminism and misogyny. It also comments on toxic masculinity. This novel offers a viewpoint of a character who has been treated as both female and male by people and the commentary on this is fascinating and worth discussing.

The romance in this is almost secondary. It is there though, and it is done in the typical Elliot Wake fashion of having two broken people be exactly right for each other. Sometimes your darkness meshes with someone else's and creates a beautiful connection. There is always a light in these stories, and in this case it is the connections being built. It is allowing someone to see the messy parts of yourself, and seeing their flaws in return. It stresses the importance of not just seeing them but accepting them as well.

Novels that encourage empathy are even more vital in today's society. Bad Boy is just one of the many novels written by Mr Wake that accomplish opening minds. They are thought-provoking for those stepping outside their viewpoint, and a vital mirror for those who find themselves within these pages. Bad Boy offers a poignant look at what it is like be trans but it also gives trans people a chance to see themselves as a protagonist of a romance story , and mystery one as well, and that is perhaps the most important part of this story.