Wednesday, August 10, 2022 — 3
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

One of the best things about reading 
romance novels or watching romance 
movies is that you can almost always 
count on the presence of a trope. 
Whether it’s enemies to lovers 
(think Darcy and Lizzy in “Pride and 
Prejudice” or, more recently, Season 2 
of “Bridgerton”), fake relationships (a 
#BookTok favorite), good girl/bad boy 
(which always reminds me of that 5 
Seconds of Summer song) or any other 
slightly cliché yet thoroughly enjoyable 
trope, you can usually find one — or a 
combination of a few — in the romance-
genre art you consume. 
Sarah Echavarre Smith’s upcoming 
novel, “The Boy with the Bookstore,” 
is unique in that it combines tropes in 
unusual, new ways and, by extension, 
tells a story that differs from the typical 
romantic formula. Using the dual 
perspectives of the female protagonist, 
Joelle, and the male love interest, Max, 
Smith artfully tells the romantic story of 
a baker and a bookstore owner falling in 
love. 

Joelle, the baker, is the epitome of 
the sunshiney good girl; she gave up her 
dream of opening a bakery in France 
to help out her family when they were 
struggling financially. She has a huge 
crush on the bookstore owner next 
door — Max, a tattooed, secretive and 
thoughtful guy.
“The Boy with the Bookstore” is an 
undoubtedly fun and easy read — the 
story unfolds very naturally, and as Smith 
peels back the layers of both characters, 
the audience is bound to become more 
and more interested in Joelle and Max. 
The side characters, like Joelle’s family 
members and her best friend, Whitney, 
round out the story. Minor characters 
may have small roles in the actual story, 
but their presence always adds a new 
dimension to the main protagonists. 
In this case, Joelle’s family serves as a 
primary motivational factor in her career 
and as a foil to Max’s lack of familial 
affection, and Whitney is the best friend 
you always want by your side, offering 
advice, jokes and loyalty when Joelle 
needs it most. Needless to say, all these 
characters elevate the story from just 
another fun romance novel to one that is 
both entertaining and meaningful.

The most interesting thing about this 
story is that Joelle and Max are mutually 
pining for one another, but because of 
a renovation at their workplaces, they 
are forced to work in close proximity to 
one another, which brings out the worst 
in both of them. So this is a rare case of 
two people who like each other and 
then begin to cross the line into ‘enemy’ 
territory. Max uses Joelle’s oven to dry 
his clothes (gross), Joelle messes with 
Max’s book club and so on. Despite their 
initial attraction, they start to seriously 
irritate one another. Only after they’ve 
seen each other at their worst are they 
able to start a healthy relationship. 
There’s something really relatable 
about the realism of their situation; 
romance in books and movies today is 
idealized in a lot of ways. Things are 
predictable and expected and, because 
of that, somehow glamorized and made 
seemingly perfect to the audience. I 
mean, there’s basically an unofficial 
romance formula that authors and 
creators use: Meet Cute, Montage, 80%-
mark Conflict, Grand Romantic Gesture, 
Happily Ever After. In other words, the 
love interests meet, usually in a cute way, 
like in a coffee shop where their orders 

are switched or at some work event or on 
a blind date gone wrong. Then, you have 
the Montage, where you see them fall 
for each other — you know those scenes 
in the movies where some song plays in 
the background while the characters 
walk around together or sightsee or go 
on some trip where they try on floppy 
hats together? That’s the Montage. The 
saddest part is the 80%-mark Conflict 
where, approximately 80% of the way 
into the story, the characters see each 
others’ flaws and push each other 
away, but then you have the Grand 
Romantic Gesture where someone 
holds a boombox outside a window or 
buys a guitar or sings a meaningful song. 
All of which culminate in the Happily 
Ever After. In other words, the love 
interests meet, usually in a cute way, like 
in a coffee shop where their orders are 
switched or at some work event or on a 
blind date gone wrong. Then, you have 
the Montage, where you see them fall 
for each other — you know those scenes 
in the movies where some song plays in 
the background while the characters 
walk around together or sightsee or go 
on some trip where they try on floppy 
hats together? That’s the Montage. The 

saddest part is the 80%-mark Conflict 
where, approximately 80% of the way 
into the story, the characters see each 
others’ flaws and push each other away, 
but then you have the Grand Romantic 
Gesture where someone holds a 
boombox outside a window or buys a 
guitar or sings a meaningful song. All of 
which culminate in the Happily Ever 
After. 
Some tropes alter the formula, of 
course; for instance, in the enemies 
to lovers trope, the Meet Cute usually 
isn’t so cute, and the Montage is filled 
with more tension and less fluff. But in 
general, there’s a formula that writers 
follow because it’s what the audience 
expects and what they want to see. But 
that doesn’t mean it’s realistic, by any 
means. Let’s just say it’s not exactly 
practical to expect someone to break out 
a Grand Romantic Gesture in the real 
world. “The Boy with the Bookstore” 
follows the general formula, but by 
making Joelle and Max see each other’s 
flaws and imperfections early on in the 
story, it makes for a more realistic view 
of love. 

Read more at michigandaily.com

For many a band, the self-titled 
album is a rite of passage. Fleetwood 
Mac did it twice, Led Zeppelin four and 
Weezer more times than I can count. 
With the exception of a debut, a self-
title often marks a comeback, like how 
The Beatles signified their resurgence 
into the public sphere, a return to 
their roots. The decision to name an 
album after oneself feels intentional, 
evoking an aura of self-assurance and 
certainty in one’s artistic vision, like 
that sparkly bowling ball you get after 
achieving Pro-Level in Wii Sports. 
The pure simplicity of such a title 
suggests a level of notoriety, or rather, 
a path being paved to future infamy. 
And with their self-titled third album, 
MUNA has proved that they certainly 
have the chops to reach sparkly 
bowling ball status.
In the time since MUNA’s last 
album, Saves the World, they’ve 
weathered quite a bit of change: 
getting dropped by RCA, picked up 
by indie record label Saddest Factory, 
releasing a viral TikTok hit. With 
their first two albums, MUNA firmly 
cemented itself in the realm of Queer 

pop with bangers like “I Know A 
Place” and “Number One Fan.” They 
established a sound of their own 
featuring emotive, well-crafted lyrics 
and synth-pop beats: a pairing that 
you could just as easily dance in your 
bedroom to or cry in the middle of the 
club to. Essentially, sad and gay.
Keeping that in mind, MUNA’s lead 
single “Silk Chiffon” was a definite 
change of pace for them. It ushered 
in a new era, one that wasn’t afraid to 
explore beyond the standard sound 
we’d grown accustomed to hearing 
from them. It was light and shimmery 

and far poppier than anything they’d 
ever released. Not even Phoebe 
Bridgers herself could bring down 
the infectiously catchy chorus of 
“Like life’s so fun, life’s so fun / Got 
my miniskirt and my rollerblades on.” 
The Sapphic energy harnessed by 
“Silk Chiffon” was hardly new ground 
for them (its music video even pays 
homage to Queer cult classic “But 
I’m a Cheerleader”), but the bright, 
celebratory manner in which they 
did it certainly is, breezily saturated 
into three minutes of bubbly pop 
perfection.

While the vast remainder of 
the album isn’t as cheery as “Silk 
Chiffon,” a notable divergence from 
their previous works persists in its 
willingness to experiment without 
losing sight of itself. Because as out-
of-left-field as some of the songs may 
appear, they’re still MUNA, through 
and through. 
Classic MUNA bangers are easy 
to spot from the get-go: electro-pop 
numbers like “Home By Now,” which 
contemplates a failed relationship and 
asks the important questions like, 
“What is love supposed to feel like, 
anyway?” (sad) and “Why is it so hot 
in L.A.?” (gay). “Anything But Me” is 
full of similarly fun quips like, “You’re 
gonna say that I’m on a high horse 
/ I think that my horse is regular 
sized / Did you ever think maybe / 
You’re on a pony / Going in circles 
on a carousel ride?” Killer roasts 
aside, lead singer Katie Gavin’s steady 
control over the flow of her writing is 
as compelling as ever. Across albums 
and eras, genres and record labels, 
her words pour out seamlessly, each 
line spilling over into the next in an 
effortless stream of intensely acute 
thoughts and feelings. Although 
the band has preserved the heart of 
MUNA in its songwriting, their foray 

into new sounds has brought forth a 
scrupulous attention to detail in their 
song production. On “Runner’s High,” 
they play with the idea of sustaining 
oneself on the adrenaline of “running 
out” on a relationship by mimicking 
the pulsing tempo of such a rush as the 
percussion simulates the pitter-patter 
of a heartbeat. In the case of “Solid,” 
its precise, clean production is used to 
clash against the sharpness of its edgy 
guitar riffs, reminiscent of ’80s glam 
rock. 
There’s a special kind of MUNA 
magic infused into the very fabric of 
country-pop song “Kind of Girl.” It’s a 
touching, heartfelt ballad about being 
kinder to yourself and reflecting on 
the person you used to be. Its twangy 
strings mesh well with Gavin’s vocals 
gently coaxing you in, tugging on your 
heartstrings. Learning to accept your 
faults and laugh at ‘em all like you’re 
not a problem to solve? Just go ahead 
and stab me in the heart while you’re 
at it. For anyone who’s ever had a 
complex relationship with girlhood or 
their identity, “Kind of Girl” gives you 
the space to figure it all out. 
With MUNA, MUNA tries on a lot 
of hats. 

SERENA IRANI
Daily Arts Writer

This image is from the official album cover of “MUNA,” owned by Saddest Factory / Dead Oceans.

Changing the romance formula with ‘The Boy with 
the Bookstore’

‘MUNA’ is here for a hot, mildly anxious Queer girl summer

Read more at michigandaily.com

SABRIYA IMAMI
Daily Arts Writer