This book was not for me, but I do think could be something that other people might enjoy. First of all, I do not identify as queer, and I am not in a polyamorous relationship. I did appreciate the ways in which the narrator of the novel helped guide the reader through what it's like to be queer, raise a trans child, and be in a polycule. So overall, I found the context engaging. I had a tougher time with the writing style. It's very hard for me to read an entirely one-sided perspective, and this one is particularly self-indulgent. The narrator is writing emails to Ben for the entirety of the novel, and the emails are are never even sent--it's just a task the narrator's therapist has assigned him. The narrator spends a great deal of time heartsick and complaining about things big and small. I know breakups are hard, and that wallowing is necessary, but I would have loved to see some character development or growth.

Thank you NetGalley for the free digital ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

I loved this novel. This was such an entertaining that I finished in a few hours.
A well written story that kept me hooked from the very beginning.
The characters draw you in and keeps you flipping the pages.
They are realistic and very well developed.
I really enjoyed the writing style. I found myself hooked, turning the pages.

This was my first read from Alejandro Varela. It was a pretty light and fun story written in the format of diary-like emails. The neurotic main character experiences a mid-life breakup with his boyfriend after he and his husband open their relationship. I found it to be a new and welcome novel of 21st century changes in family dynamics. He moans about the agony he's experiencing after the unexpected breakup, and he goes on tangents about his family of origin, his friendship, some of whom support him readily and others who struggle to understand, and his elementary schooler's difficulties navigating their trans identity at school. I savor stories of non-traditional and queer family structures, so that aspect of the story was especially fun for me.

While I found this novel refreshing and light, it could also be tedious, and I think I prefer other formats. It would have been interesting to hear more from the other characters rather than just the main character's inner monologue.

I received an advance reader copy of this book from Viking in exchange for an honest review.

Thanks to NetGalley, Penguin Viking, and Alejandro Varela for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

Reading Alejandro’s National Book Award nominated Town of Babylon in no way prepared me for Middle Spoon. The narrator of Middle Spoon (both books have a gay, male, Latinx protagonist) is going through a breakup.

He has a great marriage and two children and a thriving career; with his husband’s support, he looks to polyamory for just a little more happiness and falls in love with Ben. Ben realizes he doesn’t want to share him with his husband and family and ends the relationship.

The narrator is processing the breakup by writing a series of letters he will never send to anyone other than his therapists. Most of the letters are to Ben. Through the letters - sometimes funny, sometimes cringe-worthy - we learn more about the narrator’s life, friends, likes, and dislikes. Although his despair sometimes eases, the narrator always returns to finding a way to keep Ben in his life.

I appreciated that Varela’s Middle Spoon showed polyamory as a valid way to build a family. The epistolary structure emphasized the narrator’s obsession. Ultimately, instead of cheering for the narrator’s happiness, I found myself thinking, “Oh no, he didn’t just do that!” and hanging my head a little.

You know that break-up letter you never sent? The one you found a while later when you were calmer? You remember how that felt, reading the minute-by-minute lavage of your just-lanced boil of hurt and anger?

Now it's a récit! A really long one, but that's what it is. Everything, not just the narration but every thought, feeling, event, opinion, is entirely the (unnamed, how much more evidence of it being a récit can one have?) narrator's. This is not entirely a good, or a bad, thing. It's fun when the narrator is processing why the departed party of the third part in the dissolved throuple, Ben, would just...dump him. (I have thoughts on this.) It's fun when he processes his rage at and hatred for the same groups I hate and rage over. Gluten-free food IS a satanic scheme to immiserate the planet further.

It is also, as a result of being so much up the narrator's tailpipe, a longer read than one would first think. I took a week to finish it. The intense angst, the ongoing anxiety issues...all are real, honest, told to us with sensitive thought before presenting them; and I want to shake this self-absorbed yutz until his eyes roll in opposite directions for being clueless and insensitive.

Well done, Author Varela! He evokes a very powerful reaction. Like The Town of Babylon, I had to reach into my reactions to fully experience the events portrayed...no surface-skating will do. Effort put in generates pleasure offered up, though. Ben never responds to these emails, written at the behest of the narrator's therapist but never sent; yet his text suggests he's either spoken to Ben or to his therapist to think through what Ben's reasons might be. I get it. It's the narrator's head, it's not meant to be in shared space. It's a récit!

But it's also the narrator. He is very much the guy you know who really doesn't realize how self-absorbed he is. He writes scathing letters to the Oscars showrunners because of things he doesn't like. Okay, he doesn't send them but—dude! I'm aware it's perceived as a man thing to be self-absorbed, but it's really a cultural universal far as I can see; still, what was Ben thinking? (We never find out.)

What else happens as a result of spending over 300pp in the narrator's head is that it feels like a hundred pages shoulda been condensed out of the count. It's a lot. It's fun, and the ending worked for my grinchly heart, but this is a time when a bit less would've said more.

A story I liked, a narrator I didn't much, and an ending I enjoyed. I call it another win for Author Varela.

I thought I didn't like this for like the first 25% of the book, and I think it was because I was expecting something more like this other book, The Town of Babylon (which I am obsessed with). So I think my own expectations were the main issue here. This is so wildly different that I wanted to DNF. It is written in epistolary format, emails that are not sent to the person in question, and it is all a one-sided conversation. The Town of Babylon had multiple POVs, and we got inside everyone's head and knew everyone intimately, but Middle Spoon could not be further from that. However, this does have Varela's same charisma. The writing is deep but not pretentious while also being easy to consume. It is very conversational, and it sucked me right in once I got over self-induced disappointment.

Because this is a stream of consciousness style narrative, I had a difficult time following at the beginning. I couldn't understand where this was going or what the heart of the story was attempting to present to the reader. At its core, this book is about grief and heartache, but at the same time, it is about so much more. The narrator suddenly goes on tangents about the healthcare system, how black women die in hospitals at disproportionate rates; the issues with public transit, and how these issues affect lower-income communities; colonization and how the US has invaded or affected almost every country n the world; how we once taxed the rich 100% over X amount of money and that was the best the US has been financially; and so many more topics that cover injustice, inequality, and marginalized groups.

In the end, I enjoyed this very much, and I am glad I gave this a chance. This is something I would recommend to my literary fiction friends who enjoy plotless stories. I am not sure that this is for people new to the genre or people who only dip their toes once in while.

Middle Spoon is a layered and thoughtful look at queer identity, loss, and the challenge of holding back emotions. Written in the form of unsent emails, Varela gives us a close, almost private view of a man figuring out how to face vulnerability without hiding. The structure feels personal yet deliberate, like being allowed to peek into someone’s diary even though they are hesitant to share.

Varela’s writing is sharp and perceptive, especially when exploring themes like class, polyamory, and the cultural pressures that influence how we define love and family. At times, the book feels like it is quietly confiding in the reader, subtle but piercing.

It is best suited for readers who enjoy slower, character-focused fiction with gentle but powerful emotional truths. Thoughtful, intimate, and deeply rewarding.

I absolutely adored this book and will be buying a hard copy for my bookshelf! Alejandro Varela's writing is so gripping and relatable showing someone processing grief in real time. It was lovely to read a story with a normalize polyamorous plot that is not prioritized in society. Our main character is smart, successful, and has a picture perfect family. Although, he also is grieving a breakup with his boyfriend Ben. I loved his stream of consciousness/talk processing, as a talk processor myself. I also truly enjoyed the truth injected into the letters of not only the MC's grief with his relationship ending and dissonance with his friends and family, but also grief with US, societal, and cultural issues as a whole. It provided a very real lens of how we have to hold space for the immediate pains as well as the greater pains of living in an imperfect world that desperately needs change.

As a lighthearted note, the MC (technically author) made me look up more words than I ever have before while reading this book. Some words, I still think were made up specifically for this book. 😂 But I absolutely loved it and am so much smarter now. Thank you Alejandro for wooing me with big words like tergiversation, redolent, mendacity, intransigence, vaunted, logorrheic, vicissitudes, remunerate, sybarites, insouciantly, insalubrious, and probably so many more.

This entire novel, as explained by the narrator's therapist, is a collection of unsent emails. The narrator is an extremely anxious individual and one half of a married couple with two children. The emails are addressed to Ben, a new third partner who recently joined their relationship.

The emails serve as a form of therapy for the narrator to process his feelings about Ben. The narrator remains anonymous, only signing the emails as "Me." This one-sided format created a disconnected reading experience for me. The lack of traditional dialogue, interaction, and emotional exchange between characters was a significant drawback. Although some emails reference events, giving the impression that Ben is responding, this never actually happens.

The anonymity of the narrator and his husband, combined with the one-sided narrative, was a frustrating experience that detracted from my enjoyment. I found myself wishing for the book to conclude, as the format became tiresome.

I had trouble getting into this one as the format is a series of letters sent to "Ben," who it becomes clear to us is the man's lover. Though he is married with children, the unnamed man is desperate to hear from Ben. They've been in a polyamorous relationship for who knows how long and the narrator never receives a response! So it's a frustrating read as I really wanted some closure...but of course life doesn't always give us what we wish for!
Thanks to NetGalley for this ARC!

My in-the-moment reaction to this novel was a series of arguments, which is perhaps appropriate: the book itself is largely an argument, written in the form of unsent letters, for why its unnamed narrator and his recently ex-boyfriend should be together. The letters are frequently ranting and repetitive and probably, if their portrayal of the boyfriend is accurate, unconvincing (among other things, some of the arguments invoke Reagan, whose presidency ended before the boyfriend was born).

But despite the narrator's flaws (which include emotional incontinence, irresponsibility, and a tendency to blame everything wrong with his adult life on his upbringing and even his parents' upbringing), his charisma shines through the pages, and the book is a compelling and entertaining read. It's thought-provoking too, although I was less interested in its ideas about polyamory (which are undermined by the narrator's inability to manage his jealousy or divide his energy between his partners and children) than its thoughts about parenting, middle age, and love from the perspective of a character with a sharp eye and a very specific lens.

I did not expect to be so fully sucked into this book! Told through a series of emails he will never send, the way he unpacks his heartbreak and anxieties was really fascinating and relatable, despite being so far from my own life! This book has been getting a lot of early buzz and I think it is well-deserved. Thank you to Viking and NetGalley for the advance copy.

This book honestly takes a while to get into, I kept starting and stopping it, but it is definitely worth it. The whole thing is written in a series of emails from “Me,” our unnamed narrator, to his younger lover “Ben.” Because everything is in emails, there’s a huge reliance on stream-of-consciousness writing. “Me” meanders around what he’s trying to say for ages before he actually says anything. But there’s no denying that Varela is a talented writer—“Me” is kind of one of the most insufferable and yet understandable narrators I’ve ever encountered. I may have very little in common with this man, but haven’t we all spiraled because of heartbreak?

I think what made this story fall flat for me was my personal expectations going into it—I was expecting a poignant, relatable story, as a queer poly person. However, this book, as another reviewer reiterated has three target demographics: New Yorkers, (gay) men, and people in generations older than mine. I also would have liked to hear the perspective of the narrator’s husband, or even the boyfriend or therapists. I’m all for a book focusing on one person, but it really started to feel like being locked in a theater while a cocaine-addled theater kid performed an overdramatic monologue, even though the pamphlet outside promised a Shakespearean comedy. I don’t think the point is to make you dislike “Me,” but it’s so easy to do so.

Regardless of my personal opinion, this book is innovative. I will always love a queer story and I think it’s so important to tell stories about queer, non-monogamous relationships. I think I’ll give this one a try again in the future when I can sit down with it and read it slowly.

It might take you, as it took me, a minute to find the rhythm of this novel which is essentially a series of emails from the unnamed narrator to Ben, his boyfriend who has just ended their relationship. The narrator is married and has children with his husband but everyone (at. least the adults) was happy in their relationship or so the narrator thought. And it's a stream of consciousness of sorts as the narrator expounds on all sorts of things. This has a big heart, some humor, and a touch of snark. Thanks to the publisher for the ARC. A good read.

I went into this with some expectations — mostly that it would center around a gay couple and the intricacies of being polyamorous in today's society. I didn't expect it to solely be written in epistolary form via unsent emails. I also didn't expect it to focus so heavily on societal, political, and economic criticism, most of which is heavily applicable to only the NYC area.

As for the story itself, I feel a bit ambivalent. I can't say I like MC much, or Ben for that matter, or their relationship? It feels doomed — the poly, the marriage, a relationship with Ben, staying sane? — at all times (now this could be because we're reading the unfiltered thoughts of someone with undiagnosed OCD, which honestly it's good rep, but also makes it hard to slog through 300+ pages of it). At least the kids have things going for them, though.

Anyway, I think I would've enjoyed this book more if I had read it more slowly, more piecemeal. I also don't really fit in the target demographic; I feel it's really aimed at 1) New Yorkers, 2) Men (preferably gay), and 3) Older Millennials and Gen X.

Still, thank you Netgalley and Viking 100 publishing for my ARC.

I was really intrigued by the premise of this one but as someone who had a therapist parent who specializes in talking about polyamory, this is something I have learned a lot about and the conversations that were had in this story fell short for me. I would be really interested in reading something from Alejandro Varela in the future as I liked a lot of his writing style.

3.5⭐️ I will finally admit to myself that one sided-conversations in books are not for me.

I do appreciate what this book is doing and it did open up a few perspectives for me when it comes to polyamory. But, I would’ve have enjoyed this more if I had some POV of the other parties involved.

That being said: Did I enjoy the spiraling this unnamed character had throughout this story? Absolutely!

The narrator of Middle Spoon is by turns self-absorbed, self-flagellating, lovable, witty, horny, politically astute, exhausting, and above all, sympathetic. This is an epistolary novel in the form of unsent emails to the narrator's ex-boyfriend, and the term "long-winded" doesn't really do them justice. A few of the initial emails are clunky since they take care of exposition, but that soon tapers off and we are left with the narrator's panic over how he will ever manage to bear his recent heartbreak. Varela really captures that period immediately following a traumatic event when the activities of daily living are foggy and all sense of proportionality is lost. While there were times that I wished I had the perspective of the narrator's husband (in particular) as well as his boyfriend, therapists, and friends, the narrator does a pretty good job of capturing his conversations in writing such that the story ultimately feels balanced.

Given the focus on polyamory -- and perhaps not polyamory in the way most people envision it -- I am not sure that this book will work for all audiences, but I hope readers will give it a chance. Personally, I appreciated the opportunity to examine my own prejudices. I honestly wasn't sure how I wanted the story to end, nor was I sure how it would end, which felt fresh and exciting to me. A worthwhile read.

I received a free ARC of this book from netgalley and the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

Might be a me thing but I was probably not in the right mood for this one. I’m such a big fan of the author but this book felt very whiny with musings about social justice-y thing in the face of a breakup. I get the trying to address polyamorous relationships but the MC ultimately was a bit too mopey for me. I’d still read anything else the author puts out tho!

A smart, innovative story about family, love and personhood. I was originally attracted to the cover but dang was this story for me! Loved it.