Fangirl: A Mixed Bag of Emotions and Ideas
When I first picked up Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell, my heart raced with nostalgia and excitement. Like many readers, I’ve navigated the winding paths of fanfiction, where creativity and community intertwine. As a former Lord of the Rings fanfiction writer myself, I anticipated a nuanced exploration of fandom. Unfortunately, Fangirl turned out to be more of a coming-of-age story than a heartfelt narrative about the richness of the fan community.
The book centers on Cath, a shy introvert thrust into college life, grappling with her passion for writing fanfiction about a beloved series, Simon Snow. While Cath’s journey resonates with many of us fumbling through our formative years, the portrayal of fanfiction itself struck me as overly simplistic. The narrative posits fanfiction as mere “training wheels” for “real” writing, suggesting that the bravest move is to create original stories. It’s a depiction that dismisses the joy and community found in fanfiction, reducing it to a stepping stone rather than a legitimate form of expression. This misrepresentation felt misleading, as fanfiction can be a rich, deeply rewarding hobby for many, devoid of any aspirations for professional success.
Rowell’s prose flows effortlessly, and she captures the quirks of college life with vivid detail. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel the pacing pulled me in different directions, particularly when it centered on Cath’s writing assignments. The interactions in her creative writing class often felt forced, lacking genuine feedback that could foster growth. It left me pondering how a character grappling with anxiety could respond in ways that contrasted sharply with established traits.
Memorable moments shone through—like when Cath wrestles with her anxieties or skillfully conjures the magic of her fandom. I particularly loved the moment when Wren quips about Cath reading "something without a dragon or an elf on the cover." A laugh-out-loud reminder of the genre’s impact on our reading habits!
Ultimately, my heart ached for a more authentic portrayal of Cath’s relationship with her online readers. It felt unrealistic that a popular fanfiction writer with devoted followers wouldn’t seek solace or guidance from her community during her struggles. Instead, the narrative seemed to paint a lonely picture—completely antithetical to the vibrant, supportive networks I know exist in fandoms.
In conclusion, while Fangirl is a delightful coming-of-age story steeped in the complexities of mental health and self-discovery, it falters in its representation of fandom and fanfiction. If you’re seeking a heartwarming, relatable tale about identity and growth, this book might engage you. However, if you hope for a truthful exploration of the intimate world of fanfiction, you may leave this book feeling a bit discontented.
As I closed the final chapter, I couldn’t help but reflect on how our stories shape us—whether we’re passionate about original fiction, fanfiction, or simply love being part of a community. So, let’s celebrate all narratives, regardless of the context in which they thrive.