Fiction – paperback; Trapeze; 392 pages; 2019.
In the past couple of years, I have read dozens of novels about young Millennial women trying to find their place in the world, but none of them was quite like Candice Carty-Williams’ Queenie. This brilliantly entertaining read has an upbeat narrator and wears its heart — and its politics — on its sleeve.
Set in modern-day south London, it follows the ups and downs of a young Black journalist, Queenie, as she navigates life without her beloved (white) boyfriend, Tom. The pair have been together for three years but are now on a three-month “break” to refresh their relationship. Or, at least, that’s the way Queenie, a glass half full type of person, presents it; Tom has other ideas.
When the book opens, Queenie is at a sexual health clinic getting a contraceptive coil fitted. The medical staff tell her that she has uterine scarring, which indicates she previously had a miscarriage, something she had been unaware of, and now she’s caught up by the idea that she could have had a baby with Tom. It’s a devastating realisation, but it’s too late to tell him because he’s already told her to move out of their shared flat.
As she enters the dubious, grubby world of share house living, things go from bad to worse (the scenes in which Queenie inspects properties with lecherous landlords and is interviewed by overly fussy tenants with rooms to let would be outrageously funny if they weren’t so close to the bone), but she remains cheerful and upbeat through it all, telling her tight group of friends that it’s only a temporary arrangement — she’ll be back living with Tom soon enough.
Meanwhile, determined to find herself a new man to occupy her time, she makes a string of bad choices, sleeps with men who don’t quite have her best interests at heart and succumbs to the advances of a stalker-like guy at work who turns out to be not all that he seems. (Be warned, there’s a lot of casual sex in this novel — and quite a few visits to a sexual health clinic as a result.)
And all the while she tries to make a name for herself at work as a writer on a newspaper that keeps turning down her ideas for politically outspoken features because they aren’t “palatable” enough for a supposedly white-liberal audience.
Yet the more Queenie forges ahead with her new life without Tom, the more she mourns his loss and the more she tries to compensate for this by looking for love in all the wrong places. This begins to take a toll on her working life and her mental health to the point at which something has to give…
A Millennial Bridget Jones
Queenie is essentially Bridget Jones for the 21st Century — with one important difference. Bridget Jones didn’t have to spend her whole life dealing with casual racism.
It’s Queenie’s support of the Black Lives Matter movement and the ways in which she is constantly made aware that she comes from a non-white background that gives this story its edge. There are many toe-curling scenes involving white people behaving badly, saying clearly offensive things and failing to understand what they’ve done wrong. Even Tom doesn’t get it: on more than one occasion he doesn’t even bother standing up to relatives who make slurs against his girlfriend, excusing them because “they’re old and don’t know any better”.
It’s relentlessly dispiriting and yet Queenie keeps forging on, helped in part by an amazing group of girlfriends (Kyazike, her Ugandan friend, is a stand-out character, outspoken and resilient, the kind of person who says all the things you think but are too afraid to say) and a loving set of maternal grandparents whose Caribbean ways don’t always chime with what’s best for their granddaughter.
It also helps that Queenie’s got a wicked sense of humour — her constant wisecracks really do give the novel its wry comic flavour even if the story does stray into some very dark territory.
I admit that I raced through this novel in the space of a weekend, unable to forget about Queenie’s many problems whenever I put the book down.
It’s a thoroughly modern tale, complete with WhatsApp chats and work emails integrated into the narrative, and tackles all kinds of issues, including racism, sexual harassment, domestic violence, mental health and identity, without banging the reader over the head. I loved spending time with Queenie, her crazy cohort of friends and her proud grandparents.
This is my 13th book for #20booksofsummer 2021 edition. I bought it from my local independent bookstore last year. It is also my 8th book for #BIPOC2021, which is my plan to read more books by black, Indigenous and people of colour this year.
11 thoughts on “‘Queenie’ by Candice Carty-Williams”
I loved this too, I read it with my book group. I loved Queenie, and worried for her too. The Bridget Jones tag annoyed me, for all those reasons you state, the two women’s experiences of life so entirely different.
Yes, I worried for Queenie… I kind of wanted to step in and give her some advice! And yes, she’s not like Bridget Jones, who came from a comfortable middle class background and enjoyed all the privileges with being white, but there are similarities in the sense they’re both working in the media and both looking for love.
I loved this book so much. I got cross about the Black Bridget Jones tag till I found out the author was comfortable with it. SO much better than Bridget though. It reminded me of my rackety South London 20s and was the best millennials in London book I’ve read so far (and I’ve read a few). Loved her friend group and the mental health theme.
I feel bad now, because I mentioned Bridget Jones… I’ve not seen other reviews of this book so wasn’t aware that others had drawn comparisons. But as point out in my review, Bridget didn’t have to deal with racism. And as I say to Ali (above) she wasn’t from a comfortable middle-class family either.
Agree about this being one of the best of a bunch of millennial-focused stories. I think this one was far less naval-gazing and angst-ridden than other ones I’ve read. I enjoyed the wry humour in it.
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I also really enjoyed it when I read it – it was great entertainment.
Yes, a quick fun read even if it does stray into some dark territory.
I really enjoyed this novel and thought the comic writing was excellent. I also appreciated the more serious dimension of the story, although I felt the rich, spoilt Jewish character was terribly lazy stereotyping that was at odds with one of the central messages in the book.
Hmmm… was Cassandra the Jewish character? I can’t recall and I don’t have the book with me to check. But that’s an interesting point… she has definitely linked Cassandra with money which *is* a Jewish stereotype 🤔
yep, Cassandra is an antisemitic caricature of a Jew – and not only that but the author crafts part of her storyline seemingly AGAINST the idea that Jews count as a minority. Cassandra plays the role of a money-lender who leads a life full of privilege (she says, “if you run out of money, why don’t you just use your other money?” and talks about her dad helping her to get a job) but who still (annoyingly, to Queenie) talks about her minority status. Queenie recalls how they met when Cassandra introduced herself as Jewish and said they could be the two minorities together. The author pointedly juxtaposes Cassandra’s privilege with Queenie’s situation to insult Jewish minority status. I can’t imagine any other group of people having their minority status and the difficulties they face insulted in this way, but apparently you can do it to Jews and still get multiple awards and plenty of positive reviews.