After You Book Review

I have a theory that if you write a brilliant book, dealing with complex and interesting subjects, you should think rather carefully about the decision to write a sequel. And don't get me wrong, I would be a very unhappy creature if Harry Potter or the Hunger Games was a standalone book. Fact remains, if an author decides on a sequel, I often feel that their beautiful ideas are corrupted by the human greed and consumerism. This is the case with After You.

After You by Jojo Moyes

This review obviously contains spoilers for Me Before You.

A wise lady with pink hair once said,

"He (Alan Moore) says that the job of the artist is to give people what they need, not what they want." - Force Awakens Honest Review

And she's absolutely right. That's why I love authors who give their fans a book that's not what they asked for, but what they need. I admire that because that shows that you, as an artist, know your shit better than all those peasants you're writing for. That's what I loved in Allegiant and Mockingjay. Those ladies tell the story they feel is important, rather than what everyone will be okay with. That takes guts, and I love them for it.
Jojo Moyes wrote a sequel that didn't need to exist with characters that I didn't need to know about, which just makes the book feel like another unnecessary sequel that only exists for the sake of existence. I don't always want there to be more to a stand alone, because in the end, less is sometimes more. It's like sequels to Disney movies. You get in your seat and you just know that it will never even get close to the last one.

Now don't go off on me for being annoyed with this book's existence. I know it talks about all these complex things like dealing with grief and moving forward and survivor's guilt. But in the end, this is one of those books that I legitimately wish I hadn't read. There, I said it.

I also have this other repetitive issue with fiction. In fact, I stumble across this phenomenon so often I've started to believe that it only exists for me, or that maybe it's an intentional symptom. What I'm talking about here is the way authors of contemporary or historical books seem to drift away from their initial main theme in favor of more attention for the romance. And even though the romance has a very direct link to the plot here, it felt as if we were drifting away from grief and into the arms of a love interest I did not care about.

That's right, folks, this shipping machine did not appreciate Mr. Spoiler's role in this story. This is always something you have to be careful with as a tragic-love-story writer. That your character is over Mr. Deceased Boyfriend does not mean whatsoever that your audience is ready for a new Mr. in their lives.
And now you're going to say that I'm contradictory because earlier I stated that it's okay to make decisions that your readers initially won't cheer on. But if that were the case, I would have at least grown to enjoy their relationship. But I didn't. It was too physical. I just couldn't love him. He pushed Will into the background too much. This book wasn't necessary or desired.

Of course, there's still a tie to Will, but that too seems forced and unasked for. I mean, what are the odds of SPOILER even existing? Still, I liked her, but only because she tied this book to its much more wonderful prequel.
And that's the thing with this book. I loved everything that was also in the other book, like feminism and crazy family members and the social and emotional consequences of assisting in someone's suicide and the differences between rich and poor in modern Western Society. I loved the Cheesy Learn-To-Live-With-Trauma Support Group, which eventually made me cry. But that new guy? No. I didn't like him.

But to conclude with something nice to say, I liked a specific side thingy in this series (can't believe I said that cursed word). My mom and I like to call it Live On Order. 
We live in a world in which your own happiness is superior to everybody else's. All that matters is that you're happy and that everything comes your way once you ask for it.

• You want a career, so you postpone marriage and children until your thirties.
• Once you reach the ripe age of Permanent Job With Sizeable Income, you decide you want to marry. Now. Immediately. Because you desire it.
• So you marry and try to have kids BECAUSE YOU ARE READY TO SETTLE. But of course your ovaries are already preparing for their retirement, so pregnancy won't work for itself.
• But who needs functional genitals, anyway? Bring on the IVF and ICSI! Those leftover embryos will be fine, right?
• So now you have kids. Kids you send to the babysitter every Monday to Friday, because you need to finance that second car, that huge house. And even though your children feel unwanted af, since you only seem to love them on those "family weekends", you continue to live in your own fairytale, where you are the picture perfect family.
• But there's a new issue. You don't like your dear husband as much anymore. Now that he gets those wrinkles and your relationship grows less and less exciting, you find yourself in need of a divorce. And your kids? No big deal. It will only make them stronger. You already have a new daddy for them, namely your secret affair, who makes you the happiest girl in the world.
• And when you're old? You grow lonely. Your bones ache. You need help going to the toilet. Your children have long been caught up in their own perfect little lives. Oh, how much you've suffered. They don't visit, they blame you for everything. Your second husband grew wary of you soon enough and cheated on you. How dare he! All those terrible things the world has done to you. Horrific. But now that you hurt and suffer, it will soon be over, and your eternal trial will come to an end.

And I know a lot of you will say that I'm moaning over something that doesn't in any way affect me, but look at this from my mom's perspective. My mom has no job, only a handful of friends, if it weren't for her children she would divorce, and she's at home 24/7 to take care of my younger brother. She helps us with everything. It's like she's giving up her entire life for us. Our world is growing increasingly selfish, and for someone like my mother, that must be a terrible thing to see.
And I'm not hating on people who need a little help getting pregnant because they were born with a genetical problem or who had kids late because they spent their twenties taking care of their alcoholic parents. But in the higher classes, we witness a time in which unhappiness is almost seen as something that should not exist.

And of course I would too prefer a world without famin and pain and poverty, but we're talking first world problems here. We should let go of this need to build perfect little lives for ourselves while we trample those who can't keep up with our pace. And I loved the way Jojo Moyes showed us this trend in the book through Lily's family.

In short: That your audience asks for a sequel does not mean it's a good idea to give them one.