Buckle up guys, I have a lot of thoughts on this one.

This novel and I, we have a strange history. A couple years ago, I grabbed it off the free discarded books table at my public library, thinking: “gee, why not! Looks like it might be fun.” Took it home and, over the next week or so, worked my way through the first sixty pages. It was good, but it didn’t grab me or anything. Maybe I just wasn’t in the mood. I gave up and put it on my bookshelf. Now and then, at times over the last two years, I’d glance at it and be like: “maybe today…? …. nah, still not in the mood.”

Until about five days ago, when I woke up and, while still lying in bed, through bleary eyes in the morning light glimpsed the book on my shelf across the room, and suddenly knew: TODAY’S THE DAY. Out of nowhere, I could not wait to get immersed in this book! I started back at the beginning and proceeded to finish it over the next three-to-four days.

I’m not sure why it happened like this. Maybe because the subject matter of this book is also something I have a strange history with.

Rush takes place among college girls at a very white, very Southern university with a very active Greek life scene. Thing is, some years ago, I was also a college girl at a very white, very Southern university with a very active Greek life scene. I had a lot of feelings about it back then, and to this day have a lot of feelings about the feelings that I had about it back then. Namely: regret.

To elaborate (and I promise I’ll get to the book momentarily, but I think this background is pertinent to my review of the book): when I, a naive and sheltered dork of a high schooler, applied to that university, I had no idea what “Greek life” really was or what it entailed. Everyone in the admissions office spoke about “Greek life!” And I was like “? what’s that? Some kind of philanthropy club, or something? Oh. Ok. Won’t be doing that, but nbd, the rest of the place sounds good, so, I’ll go here. ” — Good grief. If only I had done my research.

I was unprepared for what “active Greek scene” actually meant.

To make an understatement, that university’s social scene was not a great fit for someone like me. I had a very bad time there, culminating in a dramatic breakdown in the spring of my junior year, during which I suddenly, without consulting anyone, dropped out of the school and went back home.

Enter the regret. That was one of the dumbest moves of my life. For one, I was so close to being done and getting that coveted degree — couldn’t I have just stuck it out a little bit longer? And for two, the school was academically amazing, prestigious, beautiful, respected, and giving me extremely generous financial aid…

But it’s not just the drop-out that I regret. It’s the bad attitude that I had the whole time I was there. Typical me. I wasn’t like the other girls, I had to be different. I had to rebel.

“Stupid Greek life,” I’d mutter! “Stupid rich preps with their gross parties! They think they’re still in high school! So cliquey! So pathetic! This shit is even worse than high school!” — and while there certainly was some truth in that complaint… it was indeed very cliquey, and there was a lot of toxicity and pettiness in that scene (don’t get me started)… I also, in hindsight, kind of wish I’d looked at it with a more open mind.

I often wonder what life would have been like if, instead of cloaking myself in an armor of hostility and cynicism, I had been brave and made myself vulnerable and tried out the whole “rushing a sorority” thing. Could I have done it? Could I have had a group of lifelong sisters? Could I have been normal and happy?, could I have been a part of things?

I have the whole 20/20 hindsight thing. It’s really a beautiful idea, the whole “sorority” thing — in fact, it appeals very, very strongly to the part of me that’s always wanted to belong somewhere. Maybe that’s why I reacted with such intense emotion and pushed it away so hard, back then.

I almost hesitate to go into too much detail about that time and place, because anyone who’s familiar with US colleges will probably be able to quickly identify which university I’m talking about here, and I don’t like to give away too much about my irl life; but oh well, here goes:

When I started my freshman year, 2008-09, the school had five sororities, all located in these giant gorgeous white-columned brick mansions along Sorority Row, which was visible from campus. (There were, I think, also one or two historically Black sororities, but they were extremely, extremely small, and obviously didn’t have a mansion on Sorority Row.) Of fraternities there were a great many more, and their mansions were all located throughout the small historic downtown across from campus; they were much older and less uniform, because up until fairly recently the University had been all-male, and it was only within the last few decades that Sorority Row had been added for the women.

Anyway, over 90% of the student body was Greek, and that pretty much was the social scene there, in that small town. That was life. Even though I was not Greek myself, I can still, to this day, tell you the details of each sorority at that school, and what their stereotype looked like. Indeed, during my time there, even I, who had nothing to do with Greek life, got to where I could look at any random girl and identify which sorority she probably belonged to just based off her vibes. That’s how pervasive it was, how big a part of student culture.

My freshman year, there was a big new addition: a new, sixth sorority was coming to the college. It was a huge deal. Because it was new, and needed many new members to fill up its ranks, a large percentage of the girls in my class ended up going to that new sorority. I think like seven or eight out of ten girls on my hall. I wonder if I would have, too. (No, to be realistic I’d surely have ended up in the “loser” sorority, the one that everyone said was for the less-desirable girls no other sorority wanted; predictably, these girls were usually the friendliest and most approachable.)

So this little detail of my experience, the thing about the new sorority skewing the rush numbers and making the older, established sororities more exclusive and harder to get into, is something that also featured in Lisa Patton’s novel, and made it even more poignant and almost painful for me to read.

Which, now that you understand my complicated, sad, resentful, nostalgic, romanticized, bittersweet feelings about Greek life at Southern universities, brings me back to the book. It was this very nostalgia that made me want to pick it up in the first place, and that made me so conflicted about continuing it.

All in all, it is, as I’d hoped, a fun book. It delivers what it promises. It’s a feel-good story. I enjoyed it, and will probably read more Lisa Patton sometime. Southern atmosphere, immaculate. Characters, vivid. Writing, sensorily rich and pleasant. Theme of mother/daughter relationships, beautiful and moving. Story, heartwarming and sweet — a little too much so, for my taste.

That was the problem, for me. A little too Lifetime (to use a very dated reference!). It was too perfect, too happy, too unrealistic.

For one (spoiler here), I simply don’t buy that not only one, but both Whitmore women suddenly had this dramatic change of heart, right at the end, within a few pages of each other, and suddenly became entirely new characters. Suddenly Lillith’s even okay with tattoos?! No. It’s too fairytale. It also felt really rushed. The whole book long, there was nothing to suggest that Lilith might eventually have a change of heart, and almost nothing to suggest the same of Annie Laurie (although I began to suspect things might not be so rosy with her when she got so trashed on game day; why would a happy girl act like that).

Furthermore — and maybe this is my cynical side again but — I kind of strongly doubt that only twelve out of 430+ rich white Southern sorority sisters in 2016 would be racist, snobby, and elitist, and the rest would be woke, colorblind, and socially progressive.

Again, this might be my old resentments and bitterness rearing their ugly heads. Lisa Patton is herself a sorority girl, so she surely knows their culture and patterns better than I do. But I found this aspect of the book all a little too sunshiney and perfect and unbelievable.

I found myself wishing I could read this same story, but written with more darkness, rawness, and realness. A little uglier and harsher and more truthful. Like, I found myself at times kind of wishing that Megan Abbott had written this, in her merciless, brutal, painfully-realistic style — she could do a really powerful version.

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Also… is it just me, or was the bylaw about House Mother needing a college degree actually a serious issue that they shouldn’t just brush off?!

Don’t get me wrong, I fully support Pearl getting the job; she was clearly the right person for it… but, I mean, it’s also true that certain jobs require a bachelor’s degree minimum, and if you don’t have that degree you don’t get to apply, no matter how great a person you are. Some jobs have certain prerequisites. This is a reality that punishes many of us.

So in a way, I don’t get all the uproar and claims of injustice, about Pearl being unable to apply.

I suppose we’re supposed to understand that Lillith would happily have bent the rules for a white applicant (as she happily bent the rules about sneaking her daughter into ADB without a bid…!), but refused to do so for Pearl. And I agree that sucks.

But Lillith and her racism aside: the college degree issue made Pearl a little less of a victim here. It’s clear Lisa Patton disagrees with me; it’s clear she is, personality-wise, more of an ethicist than a logician, with the whole “yes, she technically needs a degree for the job, but, that isn’t fair, she’s so good that she really deserves it anyway!” Which is just not a mindset I can get behind, sorry, I mean, rules are rules, and we must ask, does a college degree matter or does it not? Maybe it doesn’t. In that case, by all means, change the rule.

I think it would have been more powerful to show that, yes, it sucks, but because of her circumstances, which were tragic and not her fault, Pearl, who deserves a good job, still can’t get this one, because life isn’t fair sometimes. Maybe she gets some other job, meanwhile goes back to school and knocks out her degree in 2-3 years, then comes back and applies for House Mother, and thus still manages to win the day. I think I would have rather seen something like this, a more rocky and realistic path to victory, rather than “you’re so nice that we simply must make an exception for you because it’s the nice thing to do!”

I don’t know if I’m making sense. Maybe this plot thread would have been smoother for me if LP hadn’t written in the bit about the bylaw, if she’d found some other obstacle that was less rational. Was it just me?

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I had a couple other little issues, like that Cali was a complete Mary Sue, which made her a bit flat and dull to read. But the last major point I wanted to discuss about this book: is it appropriate, as a novel about race relations, written by a white author? Are we okay with it?

I’m not saying I had an issue with it. I liked it. It worked for me. But I’m a white reader; I’d be more interested to know how a Black reader might feel about this book, in today’s climate.

For one, there’s the problem of #OwnVoices. Lisa Patton is obviously white. Writing first person from the POV of a Black woman, about Blackness, about the issue of race. Isn’t that a cardinal sin?!

As I understand it, white writers these days have to follow certain rules. They are of course “allowed” to write characters of different races/ sexual orientations/ abilities/ etc., and obviously they should include such diverse characters — but, per #OwnVoices, they are not allowed to write such characters from a first-person POV — and certainly, absolutely not when it’s about issues of identity and struggles related to race/ sexual orientation/ ability/ etc. Because what do they know? It’s not their place to speak on that, and they should leave space to let the people who’ve actually lived that life make their voices heard, is what I was told.

Since I’m already rambling about all my complicated feelings in this post… #OwnVoices is another topic that I have some complicated feelings about. Here we go:

Being a wannabe novelist and also an able-bodied, neurotypical, non-autistic, Christian, cisgender, heterosexual, white American person myself, #OwnVoices certainly placed some creative restrictions on me — restrictions which, at first, threw me for a loop (“why can’t I imagine what it’s like to be someone else and identify with their experience?! Isn’t that the point of fiction?!”), but then studied up on, and eventually accepted (“oh, so I’m allowed to imagine, just not to publish, because it’s not actually my story, and can be harmful to minority writers, steal their spotlight, and perpetuate misunderstandings.”).

In fact, I first learned about #OwnVoices right around 2016 (coincidentally, the year that Rush was published), when I was trying to publish a certain novel I’d written: a manuscript that happened to flagrantly violate certain #OwnVoices rules.

I was researching agents, beginning to work on my queries, dipping my toes in the waters of Writer Twitter and stuff, when I became aware of this #OwnVoices movement. Learning about it and seeing how huge it was, I realized that, no matter what I did, I could never publish my book, this book that I had loved with such a maddening obsessive passion for so long, because even though it was entirely the product of my imagination, and I’d slaved over it and agonized over it for years, it wasn’t my story to tell. It never would be. The best I could ever hope for would be to give the idea to some other author, someone who fit the right profile, and let them write it, and maybe publish it under their own name. — What an upsetting idea.

So, I gave up. I put the book to rest, or tried to, but tbh I still struggle with this book in my head a lot. So, it’s fair to say that, while I understand and accept the restrictions imposed by #OwnVoices, I have conflicted and complicated feelings about it as well, and get a lot of intense feelings when I see published authors violating its rules — because how come they were allowed to get away with it?

To be fair I’m sure Lisa Patton probably had sensitivity readers galore all over her manuscript before it was published, and this isn’t her first book or anything, so she probably was allowed to take a few more liberties.

But, like, and I can’t not bring this up: my very own favorite David Foster Wallace does this in Infinite Jest, too. There are passages in that book where he writes first-person as a poor Black girl, even mimicking her dialect — a feat which no straight white middle-class college-educated male author could possibly get away with, in this day and age! — and yet, imo I thought he achieved it pretty well, but what does my opinion matter?, I’m white. It’s a Black reader’s opinion that I’d like to hear, and if you’re a Black reader who’s read Infinite Jest I’d love to know how you felt about it.

I remember I participated in an online Infinite Jest book discussion group back in like 2022, and, what with my complicated feelings about #OwnVoices still simmering, I felt a burning need to raise the question in discussion: did anyone else feel any kind of way about the fact that DFW was flagrantly violating #OwnVoices in this one passage right here? Is anyone else thinking about what a horrible crime this would be considered, in this current day, and did he get away with it, and if so how? — And they all just literally rolled their eyes at me through the video call. (All white folks, btw.) Apparently that was a dumb question, and I suck at book clubs. But so I was never able to really discuss that question as I had hoped to, or get any answers. I have so many unresolved issues with #OwnVoices (which to be fair are probably mostly emotional).

And now, I can add Lisa Patton’s Rush to that list. Was it okay for her, a white woman, to write this book?! Was it okay for her to portray a bunch of rich white sorority girls “rescuing” their poor Black staff members, “saving” poor Miss Pearl? Isn’t the “white savior” trope severely frowned-upon, anymore?

There’s also a moment in the book where Pearl tells someone she hopes future generations of sorority girls will be “colorblind.” — I thought colorblindness was a dated concept, nowadays? I thought the rule now was that we are supposed to acknowledge one another’s differences, so as not to erase them, and that we are supposed to encourage some degree of segregation, at least for Black people to have access to Black-only spaces, for queer people to have access to queer-only spaces, etc.? (Not for there to be white-only or straight-only spaces, which is fine by me, I’ve never felt the need for such a space, but can understand why a Black person or a queer person would.) Back when I was a kid in the 90s, we were taught the “colorblindness” approach, but, if I understand correctly, this is now passé. Like, do you remember how middle grade/YA novels used to describe Black characters like “she had skin the color of a mocha latté” instead of just saying “she was Black” — as if Black were some kind of dirty word, like you weren’t even allowed to notice different races, because “colorblindness”? Yeah, I thought we were over all this. But I digress. My question is, is it okay for Lisa Patton, a white woman, to be preaching colorblindness — especially in the voice of a fictional Black woman?

I genuinely do not know, which is why I’m asking. Like I said, the novel worked for me, it was fun and I loved reading it — but, I’m a white person so I don’t think my opinion counts. I’m just trying to figure out how Lisa Patton got away with this, in the #OwnVoices era. Didn’t she break the rules? Or did she not, and if so, how didn’t she? I’m just trying to make it make sense in my head, because, like I said, I’m still trying to make sense of the #OwnVoices rules so as to hopefully put certain matters to rest in my own head once and for all.

If you’re still with me after this ridiculously long post: have you read this book? And if so, what were your thoughts? How about its portrayal of Greek life? Did you buy it? And how do you feel about it in light of #OwnVoices? Please!, sound off in the comments!