Review of Come and Get It by Megan Reid
When I first picked up Come and Get It by Megan Reid, I was filled with a mix of anticipation and excitement. Reid captivated me with her debut novel, and I hoped she would bring that same spark to this exploration of college life—after all, who doesn’t have a soft spot for stories about youth, identity, and navigating the chaos of growing up? Unfortunately, as I turned the pages, my enthusiasm soon dwindled, and I found myself enveloped in confusion and disappointment rather than the laughter and insight I had hoped for.
At the core of Come and Get It we meet three characters: Millie, Agatha, and Kennedy. Each one is a young adult grappling with the labyrinth of college life, their desires, and their complex identities. But rather than being a deep dive into these themes, I felt like I was standing on the surface, peering into a shallow pool. Take Millie—her storyline begins with promise as we witness her meaningful connection with her mother. Yet, it quickly fizzles into a perplexing quest for houseownership and an overly simplistic moralistic arc that rendered her relatable quirks utterly bland.
Agatha, on the other hand, is a middle-aged visiting professor peering at a trio of oblivious millennials with a lens that is as judgmental as it is bemused. I found her fixation on their vapid conversations a curious narrative choice, yet it pointed to the staggering disconnect between what the novel aims to portray about youth—and what it actually delivers. Though Reid attempts to weave social commentary about privilege and entitlement, much of it feels muddled and uncompelling, falling short of the punch delivered by authors like Brandon Taylor or Ottessa Moshfegh.
When it came to Kennedy, I found her character annoyingly derivative, an echo of countless tropes—think bubbly dumb blonde who just can’t seem to get her life together. Even her attempts to elicit humor fell flat for me, just like how the pranks she played were cringe-worthy rather than comical. I kept waiting for something substantive to occur—a breath of fresh air, a moment of clarity—but alas, it felt like waiting for a train that was destined to be canceled.
As for Reid’s writing style, it bears mentioning that while I often enjoy witty, sardonic narratives, here it felt dreary and uninspired. The prose lacked the warmth or biting cleverness I sought and instead felt like a meandering thought process that never quite got where it intended to go. I found myself longing for moments that would resonate, whether through sharp dialogue or evocative descriptions, but too often, I was left with an impression of blandness.
But here’s where I land: maybe there’s a reader out there who will find value in Come and Get It. Perhaps you might appreciate Reid’s attempt to toe the line between satire and earnest portrayal. Maybe you’ll embrace the misadventures of Millie, Agatha, and Kennedy with open arms, seeing your own reflections in their journeys. However, for me, the novel ultimately felt like a missed opportunity—a lack of commitment to any particular narrative or emotional truth.
In conclusion, Come and Get It left me wanting, and while there are moments that shine through with potential, they’re overshadowed by the narrative’s indecisiveness. If you’re someone who is drawn to college-themed stories and satirical explorations of youth, you may yet find some enjoyment here. But for me, this book didn’t deliver the engaging experience I had hoped for. At the end of the day, I felt like I was left more confused than entertained, and I can only wish for Reid’s next outing to embrace a clearer vision.