Review of Zomromcom by Olivia Dade
From the moment I laid eyes on the title Zomromcom, I felt an electrifying jolt of curiosity. What could an author as talented as Olivia Dade possibly weave into a tale starring the undead? I mean, Zomromcom itself promises a quirky blend of zombie mayhem and romantic comedy—a combination that tantalized my imagination. With that kind of premise, how could I resist? But alas, what unfolded was a reading experience that left me feeling more bewildered than charmed.
Right off the bat, I have to thank Berkley and Olivia Dade for the ARC provided via NetGalley. I was ready for a whimsical romp, yet what I found instead felt more like a series of strange detours through a world that struggled to define itself. The main characters, Edie—a spirited soap maker with a razor-sharp tongue—and Gaston (who curiously goes by Max, perhaps out of a desire to escape comparisons with Disney’s iconic character?), fail to ignite the spark one would hope for in a romantic comedy. They embark on an insta-love journey set against a zombie backdrop that, frankly, feels tacked on.
The zombies serve more as a strange wallpaper in this narrative rather than vital plot elements. They hover in the periphery, a mere backdrop for a fairly conventional love story that lacks depth or cohesive world-building. Why Max had to be a vampire is a mystery I still wrestle with. At no point was his vampirism crucial to the plot; it feels more like an afterthought meant to add flair to an otherwise bland character.
One glaring comedic attempt revolves around Max’s dislike for his name, resulting in him being referred to as “ma puce.” My French isn’t perfect, but “My Flea Color”? Really?! How that translates to sweetness is beyond me. It’s moments like these, rife with redundancy, that caused me to roll my eyes more than once.
Olivia Dade undeniably has talent, and her writing shines at moments, but the pacing felt stunted, with less focus on character development and more on quirky quips that quickly grew tiresome. Lines like Edie’s proclamation about Max being “undeniably gifted in the dicking arts” had me cringing rather than chuckling. For a book that could’ve explored romance in a refreshingly bizarre way, the dialogue often felt forced, steering the story into a territory I simply didn’t connect with.
With 400 pages, one would hope for rich character arcs, yet most secondary characters fade into a jumbled blur of forgettable names and traits. Instead, I found myself wishing the book had embraced more streamlined storytelling, delivering either a richer relationship dynamic or a more engrossing plot amidst the chaos of zombies.
So, who would I recommend Zomromcom to, if anyone? Perhaps if you’re an adventurous reader open to bizarre mash-ups, or if you prefer your vampire tales to come sprinkled with a hefty dose of awkward humor and romance that feels more fan fiction than fully fleshed out narrative. That said, if you’re seeking well-developed characters or captivating world-building, you might just want to back away slowly, as if from an oncoming horde of brain-hungry zombies.
While I appreciate Dade’s risk-taking with genre hybridity, ultimately this read didn’t meet my expectations, leaving me wanting more substance and less oddity—2.5 stars for the peculiar ride it offered.