Kirkus Reviews – January 2026

Marks’ novel skewers modern dating, work, and power in New York.

The story opens with Matty, an optimistic and unfortunately self-satisfied New Yorker, recalling a subway meet-cute

followed by a memorable date that he’s absolutely convinced was a success. The scene then cuts to 20-something Vesper

Elsegood, who offers a radically different assessment of the date to her friends at Cipriani’s: “He had no discernible

interests, knew nothing about anything, yet somehow managed to spend the entire time talking about himself while

proceeding to get blackout drunk and hold me hostage.” With that reversal, the book immediately establishes its thorny

protagonist, Vesper—a consultant at a high-end firm who’s navigating urban dating, armed with judgment and a

scene-stealing pessimism. Still, at least one person has caught her attention: Damian, a 35-year-old finance professional

and one of the few non-creatives whom Vesper can “fathom.” Their connection is built on low-pressure stakes, which is

why he makes it onto her dating “roster.” Then he unexpectedly professes his strong feelings for her at brunch—an

emotional shift that triggers Vesper’s “all-too-familiar feeling,” prompting her to run away, rather than commit. The book

later shifts to Damian’s first-person point of view, revealing that he’s impressed by how skillfully Vesper dumped him during

a phone call. When she meets a South African named Caspian Van Wyk while in France, the novel shifts its focus.

Devilishly handsome and disarmingly charming, he’s also profoundly avoidant, mirroring Vesper’s own emotional posture.

That moment of recognition expands the narrative from the realm of dating into an exploration of identity in a

status-shaped city.

Over the course of this novel, the author excels at using dual points of view as a way to contrast and better understand his

characters’ behaviors. The multiple first-person perspectives alternate seamlessly, without interrupting the rhythm, but the

story skips over conventional relationship arcs. Instead, it opens a conversation about the ways that class and power can

shape dating and self-presentation. The novel also captures a sociological realm of dating, providing fictional spin on

books like Amir Levine and Rachel S.F. Heller’s Attached (2012) by tracing how differing attachment styles blur, collide,

and often trigger one another. In its exploration of Vesper’s interpersonal relationships, this narrative has a sharp

psychological edge that many urban novels lack. Works of literature often treat New York City as a romanticized,

atmospheric backdrop, but here the city effectively functions as a stage for exploring ambition and avoidance. New

Yorkers and out-of-towners who are familiar with the city will also undoubtedly appreciate the iconic locations interspersed

throughout, from the SoHo Grand Hotel to Le Bernardin. At the sentence level, the prose is sharp and tactile, much like

Vesper herself: “Clearly, I was conceived over a martini”; “I really didn’t have much choice. I needed a bit of a pick me up,

candidly. And he picked me up.” Such comic one-liners set the scene for an engaging story of an antihero that’s enjoyable

and memorable.

A stylish tale of the big city with biting psychological insights.