The Book That Wrecked Me
I was working on a logo redesign for a local bakery—something cheerful, you know, croissants and sunshine vibes—when Lily's world started falling apart in my ears. And I just... sat there. Cursor blinking. Forgot about the client entirely. Frida jumped on my desk at some point and I didn't even notice until she stepped on my keyboard and typed a bunch of z's into the file. That's the kind of book this is. The kind that makes you forget you have a job.
Look, I know It Ends With Us has been everywhere. The BookTok hype. The movie with Blake Lively. My cousin sent me like fourteen texts about it before I finally caved. And honestly? I went in a little skeptical. Overhyped books sometimes feel like ordering the most popular dish at a restaurant and getting... fine. Just fine.
I had that same skepticism with November 9, another Hoover book that everyone raved about—turned out my doubts were justified on that one.
This was not fine. This was a gut punch served with a side of ugly crying.
Olivia Song Made Me Feel Everything
Olivia Song's narration is the reason I'm giving this audiobook specifically such high marks. She doesn't just read Lily's story—she lives it. There's this quality to her voice that's warm but fragile, like she's always one bad memory away from cracking. And when those moments come? When Lily remembers her childhood, when she starts recognizing patterns she swore she'd never repeat? Song's delivery made my chest physically hurt.
The pacing is deliberate. Not slow—deliberate. She gives the tender moments room to breathe, which matters so much in a book that deals with cycles of abuse. You need that space to process. I listened at 1.0x (as I always do, because I'm savoring, not speedrunning) and it felt exactly right. The quiet moments hit harder because Song doesn't rush through them to get to the drama.
Her character work is solid too. Ryle sounds different from Atlas, and both sound different from Lily's inner monologue. It's subtle—she's not doing wildly different accents or anything—but the emotional texture shifts. Ryle has this charm that slowly curdles into something else entirely. Atlas is softer, sadder. (And yes, I definitely had opinions about the love triangle. Strong opinions. But that's a different rant.)
The Story That Abuela Would Have Gasped At
Colleen Hoover wrote something that's sneaky in the best way. It starts out feeling like a standard contemporary romance—hot neurosurgeon, meet-cute on a rooftop, the whole thing. And then it becomes something else entirely. Something that made me pause the audiobook multiple times to just... sit with it.
The way Hoover handles domestic abuse is what got me. It's not sensationalized. It's not a cautionary tale with a clear villain you can hate from page one. Ryle is charming. Ryle is successful. Ryle loves Lily in ways that feel real and tender. And that's exactly the point. That's what makes it so devastating. The book doesn't let you off the hook by making the abuser a monster. It makes him human, and that's so much harder to watch.
I cried at chapter 23. And then again around chapter 28. And then basically the entire last third of the book. (Yes, I'm adding this to my spreadsheet. Don't judge me.) The scene where Lily reads her old journals? MY HEART. Literally had to stop designing and just stare at my ceiling for ten minutes.
If you need more of this emotional devastation (and honestly, who am I to judge), the sequel It Starts with Us continues Lily's story—I gave it 4 stars, which should tell you something about how this one ruined me.
Fair Warning: This One Leaves Marks
Okay, so here's the thing—this book is heavy. Like, really heavy. If you're not in a place to engage with depictions of domestic violence, child abuse, and the complicated feelings that come with loving someone who hurts you, maybe save this one for later. There's no shame in that. I had to take breaks myself.
Also, some people find Hoover's writing style a little... much. The prose isn't literary fiction. It's accessible and emotional, which I personally love, but if you need your books to have a certain level of Serious Literary Merit™, this might feel too commercial for you. (Those people are wrong, but whatever.)
The one critique I'll give the audiobook specifically: I sometimes wished for just a touch more differentiation between characters during dialogue-heavy scenes. Song is great, but there were a few moments where I had to rewind to figure out who was speaking. Minor thing, though. Didn't ruin the experience.
Who Should Listen (And Who Should Skip)
This is a rainy Sunday book. Or a late-night-can't-sleep book. Or a working-from-home-and-need-something-to-feel book. Don't listen during your commute unless you're okay with crying on public transit. (Been there. Not cute.)
If you loved Beach Read or Me Before You, this hits similar emotional notes but goes darker. If you're looking for a light, fluffy romance, this ain't it. Skip this one if you want escapism without the emotional hangover. This is the romance that makes you examine your own relationships, your own patterns, your own history.
Abuela would have loved this one. She would have clutched her rosary and muttered prayers for Lily and then called me to discuss every single plot point for two hours. Miss you, Abuela.
The Feels
Olivia Song's narration elevates an already emotional story into something that feels personal. Intimate. Like she's telling you a secret in the dark. The vibes are immaculate, even when those vibes are devastating. This is the kind of audiobook that reminds you why you listen to audiobooks in the first place—because a great narrator can make you feel like you're not just hearing a story, you're living inside it.
Must listen. Just... have tissues ready. And maybe clear your schedule.
