Acts of Service feels like one of those novels that wants to shake you by the shoulders and demand, “What do you really want?” It's provocative, deeply intimate, and almost unnervingly honest, diving headfirst into the murky waters of desire, power, and identity. 

 

The story centers on Eve, a woman questioning not just her sexual desires but the entire framework of what she believes about herself. She posts a nude photo online (because, why not?) and tumbles into a relationship with a couple, Olivia and Nathan, that’s as intoxicating as it is unsettling. The dynamic between these three is charged with tension—sexual, emotional, and philosophical—and Fishman uses their interactions to explore themes that feel raw and urgent. 

 

First off, let’s talk about the exploration of desire and sexuality. This book doesn't shy away from hard questions, like what it means to truly want something and how societal norms can twist those desires into guilt or shame. Eve's journey isn't about easy answers—it’s messy, contradictory, and human in a way that feels painfully real. 

 

And then there are the power dynamics. Olivia and Nathan? Fascinating. The way they interact with Eve is equal parts seductive and disconcerting. The book leans into this discomfort, forcing you to sit with the complexities of control and submission, asking who holds the power and why we let them. 

 

I also appreciated how much space this book gives to identity and self-discovery. Eve’s constant questioning—of her orientation, her values, her boundaries—feels like watching someone strip down to their most vulnerable self. It’s both captivating and exhausting. 

 

That said, it’s not perfect. While I loved the sharp writing and the unapologetic dive into taboo topics, some of the philosophical tangents felt heavy-handed. Like, yes, I get it—we’re all trapped in a web of societal expectations and existential longing—but could we not hammer it in quite so often? 

 

Still, I have to admire the book’s bravery. It doesn’t spoon-feed you answers or wrap things up neatly. It forces you to confront your own ideas about what’s “normal” and what’s “desirable,” even if you’re uncomfortable.