Book Review: Layla by Colleen Hoover
If there’s one thing I can say about Colleen Hoover, it’s that her stories have a knack for firing up emotions—both good and bad. I decided to pick up Layla, curious about her latest foray into the paranormal realm. Admittedly, I was hoping for something different, but what I found was a blend of compelling and convoluted themes that left me grappling with my feelings long after I turned the last page.
Layla follows the tumultuous love story of Layla and Leeds, who meet at her sister’s wedding. Their connection has an almost instant spark, but tragedy strikes when Layla suffers a near-fatal incident. After her physical recovery, Leeds brings her back to the scene of their meet-cute in hopes of rekindling their love. What unfolds is not just a romantic journey but a haunting tale infused with emotional turmoil, twisting hearts and minds.
But here’s the crux: I hate liars, and I hate cheaters. And if I had known I was diving into a tale laced with deception and emotional cheating, I would’ve braced myself differently. Leeds’s character made my experience particularly challenging. While Hoover often elicits sympathy for her protagonists, Leeds left me feeling raw and frustrated. He emotionally cheats on Layla with Willow, a ghost who inexplicably becomes a substitute for Layla’s affection. The connection he develops with Willow is, in my eyes, a blatant betrayal, and the emotional complexities surrounding this relationship left me questioning the sincerity of his love for Layla.
One of the most striking aspects of the book was Hoover’s ability to seamlessly oscillate between the ghostly and the emotional realms. The writing style is gripping, drawing in readers with relatable yet intense reflections. Yet, I found myself spiraling into frustration during Leeds’s inner monologues, especially when he ponders about Sasha, contrasting the present with wistful, regretful thoughts about Willow. I couldn’t shake the feeling of disdain for a character who not only grapples with his own loyalties but actively perpetuates emotional deceit.
While I appreciate Hoover’s knack for crafting intricate emotional narratives, my emotional investment was continually soured by Leeds’s actions. I felt pity for Layla, a character caught in the storm of her psyche while Leeds flits between the tangible and the spectral.
“Sometimes, when I look at Layla, I wish she were Willow,” Leeds admits, and for me, that line encapsulated everything wrong with his character. The emotional betrayal wasn’t just an internal struggle—it felt like gaslighting, where Layla’s autonomy was overlooked in favor of Leeds’s tortured desires. By the end, instead of a redemptive resolution, I was left with an aversion to both the plot and the characters.
Layla may resonate with readers who appreciate complex relationships and appreciate moral ambiguity. However, for those like me—who find honesty and commitment non-negotiable—I can’t help but reflect that the experience was a disappointment.
Ultimately, Layla pushed me to reflect on loyalty, love, and the masks we wear in our relationships. Though I didn’t connect with this journey, I recognize that others may find beauty in its haunting elements. This conflicting experience has left me contemplating the nature of love, trust, and how we grasp at ethereal connections when the ground beneath feels shaky. For better or worse, Hoover’s narrative certainly sparked conversations that linger long after the final chapter, something I can appreciate despite my frustrations.