Review of Love on the Brain by Ali Hazelwood
When I first picked up Love on the Brain, I had high hopes. Ali Hazelwood, with her knack for blending science, humor, and romance, had me excited about a STEM-centric love story. After immersing myself in the first few chapters, however, I quickly realized I was in for a reading experience that was more rant-inducing than heart-fluttering. My roommates can attest to the fact that I semi-auditively processed the chaos I encountered, feeling like I was sharing my frustrations for days rather than just 24 hours!
The plot centers around Bee, a neuroscientist, who heads into a NASA project that should be the pinnacle of her career—all while navigating the minefield of office dynamics with her grad school nemesis, Levi Ward. Initially, I appreciated the premise; who wouldn’t want to delve into the complexities of a working relationship in a high-stakes science environment? However, the anticipated tension between Bee and Levi, marketed as an “enemies-to-lovers” trope, falters dramatically. Instead of engaging back-and-forth banter, I found myself enduring a rapid, almost juvenile shift from conflict to unconvincing camaraderie.
On a positive note, the supporting cast in Bee’s life feels genuine; her interactions with her sister and her RA strike a hearty balance of humor and realism. There’s a subtle but relevant exploration of gender dynamics in STEM, which is a timely topic that adds depth to Bee’s character. Yet, the merit of these themes feels undercut by the narrative’s shallow characterization and occasional clunky dialogue. There’s potential in the way gender gaps are discussed, but Hazelwood’s treatment often veers into the simplistic.
Now let’s talk about the writing. Unfortunately, it didn’t fare much better than in Hazelwood’s debut (The Love Hypothesis). The first-person narrative made Bee’s voice seem erratic, bordering on immature. I often felt like I was reading someone’s diary filled with random musings—insights that lacked the polished depth necessary for a protagonist in a professional setting. I wanted Bee to evolve, to show me her layers, but instead, I was met with repetitive internal monologues about Levi’s physique and a general passivity that just seemed out of place.
And here’s where my frustrations peaked. The portrayal of both main characters felt two-dimensional. It often felt like a rehashing of familiar archetypes without any significant new attributes. Levi, despite being a character with a rich backstory, didn’t have the narrative support he needed to turn that potential into something tangible. His struggles with communication and family dynamics offered a fascinating entry point into his psyche, yet those are dropped like a hot potato, leaving me wanting more depth.
The climax, with its predictable miscommunication trope, fell flat, culminating in an epilogue that was just as forgettable as it was unoriginal. I don’t mind a slow burn in romance.. when it’s handled well. However, the relationship felt more like an awkward friendship than a budding romance. There was little chemistry, and that emotional tension I craved was absent—a true disappointment for someone who thrives on those electrifying moments in romantic reads.
So, who might enjoy this book? If you’re a fan of light, straightforward romances and don’t mind a few narrative hiccups, Love on the Brain might still charm you—or at least provide some entertaining angst to rant about with friends. For those who also appreciate intricate character development and nuanced storytelling, you might find yourself feeling more frustrated than enamored.
In reflecting on Love on the Brain, I was reminded of how personal and subjective the reading experience can be; while it may hit the sweet spot for some, I am firmly planted in the camp of ambivalence. Here’s hoping for more well-rounded characters and deeper storylines in the next read.