Ali Hazelwood wrote a book about chess and I was not prepared for how much I'd care about chess.
I was deep into a rebrand project at 2 AM — one of those nightmare clients who wants "minimalist but also fun but also corporate but also edgy" — and I had this playing mostly to keep myself from throwing my laptop out the window. By hour three, I'd stopped working entirely. Just sitting there in the dark with Diego curled on my chest and my cursor blinking on an untouched artboard, completely wrecked by a scene where Mallory watches her little sister sleep and thinks about all the ways she's failed her family. My heart. MY HEART.
The Girl Who Quit the Board and Couldn't Stay Away
This book felt like watching someone fall back in love with the thing that broke them, and if that doesn't gut you, I don't know what will. Mallory Greenleaf isn't your standard romance heroine doing the "I'm so ordinary" routine — she's working a dead-end job, holding her fractured family together with duct tape and stubbornness, and actively running from the one thing she's genuinely brilliant at. The chess stuff is real here. Like, Ali Hazelwood clearly did her homework (or, you know, is married to someone in the chess world, which — she is). There are extended passages about openings and gambits and positional play that I found genuinely fascinating, but I can absolutely see how some listeners would zone out during the second half when the tournament stakes ramp up.
Here's what got me though: the chess isn't just backdrop. It's the metaphor, the conflict, the love language. When Mallory and Nolan play each other, those scenes carry the same electric tension as a first kiss in a different book. The push-pull between them works because they're both people who think twelve moves ahead in chess but are absolute disasters at communicating basic human emotions. Nolan especially — this brooding world champion who's supposedly the "Bad Boy of chess" but is actually just deeply awkward and principled and oh god I loved him.
Karissa Vacker Understood the Assignment
The narrator's voice is velvet and honey. Karissa Vacker does this thing with Mallory's internal monologue where you can hear the exact moment sarcasm tips into vulnerability — there's a slight catch, a softening, and suddenly you're not laughing anymore, you're holding your breath. She nails the humor too. Mallory's dry, self-deprecating wit lands perfectly because Vacker doesn't oversell the jokes. She trusts the writing.
The character distinction is solid — you always know who's talking, which matters in a book with Mallory's sisters, her mom, various chess rivals, and Nolan all competing for airtime. Vacker gives Nolan this lower, more measured delivery that contrasts beautifully with Mallory's spiraling energy. I didn't find any audio issues, no weird production gaps, just clean narration for nine and a half hours. Not Julia Whelan territory (who is, honestly?) but genuinely good work that made me add Vacker to my mental list of narrators I'll follow.
Where the Endgame Gets a Little Shaky
Okay so — I have to be honest. The last quarter wobbles. There's a miscommunication-driven conflict that felt a little manufactured after all the smart, specific tension that came before it. Mallory makes some choices that had me pausing the audiobook to say "girl, WHAT" out loud to Frida, who did not care. And look, I know miscommunication is practically a genre requirement, but this book earned better than a standard-issue third act breakup. The reconciliation is sweet but fast, like Hazelwood knew she was running out of pages.
Also — and this is important — this is YA. I went in expecting adult romance (Hazelwood's usual lane) and had to recalibrate. There's swearing, there's sexual tension, but the spice level is way lower than The Love Hypothesis. If you're coming from her adult stuff expecting that energy, adjust your expectations. The emotional intensity is still there, just wrapped in a younger package.
The chess talk really does get dense in places. I was into it, but I was also sitting still and focused. If you're listening while doing actual work or driving, you might lose the thread during tournament sequences.
Who Gets Checkmated (And Who Should Walk Away From the Board)
Pick this up if you want a romance where the sport isn't just a cute gimmick — where it actually means something to the characters and to the plot. Boys in the Boat gave me that same feeling — sport as soul, not scenery — though obviously in a completely different genre universe. If you loved the nerdy-passion energy of The Love Hypothesis but want something with slightly more emotional weight and family dynamics, this delivers. Abuela would have loved this one — a girl choosing herself over everyone else's expectations? That's a telenovela arc right there.
Skip it if extended sports strategy talk makes your eyes glaze, or if you need your romance to go past closed doors. And if you can't handle a protagonist who sometimes self-sabotages out of love for her family — even when it's frustrating — this might not be your match.
The vibes are immaculate for a rainy Sunday with a blanket and nowhere to be. I cried twice. Added to the spreadsheet. Moving on.
