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A review by kingbunnyy
Acts of Desperation by Megan Nolan
5.0
I usually find myself frustrated when books with female protagonists reduce them to secondary characters in their own stories—where the entire narrative revolves around a man, leaving the heroine with little depth, purpose, or development. Acts of Desperation isn’t that. While, on the surface, it may seem as though the protagonist is defined by her obsession with a man, a closer look reveals that the story is really about her—her emotions, perceptions, actions, and the way she experiences herself through the lens of others. It’s not just about attractiveness, but how every behavior she engages in shapes how she’s seen and, in turn, how she sees herself. There’s a depth to her that’s explored fully—good, bad, and everything in between—and it develops continuously, never stagnating or flattening into cliché. Importantly, she isn’t consumed by this one relationship; she reflects on many things that go beyond the man she’s with.
From the first page, I was hooked. There was no waiting around for things to “get good” or feeling like the book was padded with unnecessary content to hit a word count. The pacing is perfect, and there wasn’t a single moment I felt bored. It’s the kind of novel I know I’ll return to again and again. I’m already halfway through, with 53 bookmarks—far more than my usual 12 by the end of most books—and I can’t stop underlining lines because nearly every other sentence feels insightful, quotable, or beautifully constructed.
This book also offers one of the most nuanced portrayals I’ve ever read of a relationship involving someone with borderline traits, particularly in a dynamic with a narcissist. There’s no romanticizing or over-dramatizing these issues. The toxicity is somewhat more subtle at first, unraveling slowly and realistically, mirroring how people often become “stuck” in unhealthy or controlling relationships. Both characters feel complex from the beginning—there’s no /instant/ villain, just two flawed people whose dynamics shift in unsettling ways over time.
Moreover, Acts of Desperation touches on heavy, painful topics, but without resorting to shock value. The exploration of suffering feels genuine, never performative or gratuitous. The writing itself is extraordinary—unlike anything I’ve encountered before. Every sentence feels deliberate and powerful, creating a rhythm that’s hypnotic.
From the first page, I was hooked. There was no waiting around for things to “get good” or feeling like the book was padded with unnecessary content to hit a word count. The pacing is perfect, and there wasn’t a single moment I felt bored. It’s the kind of novel I know I’ll return to again and again. I’m already halfway through, with 53 bookmarks—far more than my usual 12 by the end of most books—and I can’t stop underlining lines because nearly every other sentence feels insightful, quotable, or beautifully constructed.
This book also offers one of the most nuanced portrayals I’ve ever read of a relationship involving someone with borderline traits, particularly in a dynamic with a narcissist. There’s no romanticizing or over-dramatizing these issues. The toxicity is somewhat more subtle at first, unraveling slowly and realistically, mirroring how people often become “stuck” in unhealthy or controlling relationships. Both characters feel complex from the beginning—there’s no /instant/ villain, just two flawed people whose dynamics shift in unsettling ways over time.
Moreover, Acts of Desperation touches on heavy, painful topics, but without resorting to shock value. The exploration of suffering feels genuine, never performative or gratuitous. The writing itself is extraordinary—unlike anything I’ve encountered before. Every sentence feels deliberate and powerful, creating a rhythm that’s hypnotic.