Unexpected Gloom in “Seven Days in June”

The world continues to be heavy. I try to supplement my reading list with lighter fare to help take the edge off. During the beginning of the pandemic, somewhere after George Floyd’s murder and before the election, my mental health couldn’t take any more. I had to stop reading about our devolving democracy. How systemic racism’s roots run deeper than white people know. Why the pandemic continues to prove how much society really hates women. It took a near-nervous breakdown during virtual therapy for me to realize I need a break from heavy reading. (My therapist noted, wisely, that my worrying and stressing about the injustices of the world don’t help anybody, least of all the disenfranchised.)

I used to read one book at a time, so as to devote myself fully to the story. For some reason I didn’t think I could hold two in my brain concurrently. But since I’m drawn to books about current events or heavy topics, I pivoted my habits as a compromise for my mental health. Now I read two books at a time – a “happy” book in bed before I fall asleep and a “serious” book during the day. Sometimes this means I read chick lit (more respectfully known as contemporary romance.) Other times, I choose optimistic memoirs or books by humorous essayists, a la David Sedaris and Jenny Lawson. The healthy balance serves me well.

It’s usually easy for me to tell which category books fall into. But this post is about a Trojan horse. A book advertised as “witty, romantic, and sexy-as-hell” by the publisher and picked by Reese’s Book Club in June to kick off summer with a “modern love story.” I should have read the entirety of Reese’s caption, because I was not prepared for this book’s intricacies.

My Expectations

I snagged Seven Days in June by Tia Williams as a Kindle Deal earlier this summer. It sounded like a good book to cap off the season; something light that could transport me to positive Black stories and experiences. As much as I’ve learned from reading books like The Warmth of Other Suns and The Color of Law, I got tired of limiting myself to the dark side of Black lives. I want to celebrate and read about their joy. Other authors, like Jasmine Guillory, do that well. Based on the description, I thought this book would be in this vein. 

Little did I know it would be more in line with Yaa Gyasi and Brit Bennett’s stories, which share the joys but don’t hide or make light of the pain Black women endure. Tackling issues such as self-harm, gun violence, abandonment, and suicide, this book covers topics I wasn’t prepared for at this moment in time. (Which begs the question, when is anybody prepared for those issues?) But I’m glad I read it, because it delivered on other fronts. 

The Set Up

One of the protagonists, Eva Mercy, writes erotica. Her wildly popular series centers on a love affair between a witch and a vampire; it sounds like a mashup of Twilight and 50 Shades of Gray. (Perhaps a tongue-in-cheek nod to the relationship between the two books, although neither appears on this list of books Williams read while writing.) Unfortunately for Eva and her editor Cece, she’s struggling to deliver the 15th book. As a single mom raising her precocious tween in Brooklyn, she does all of this while suffering from a chronic illness. Her daughter, Audre, leads a very different life from the generations before her.

The other protagonist, Shane Hall, writes award-winning literary fiction. A former addict and foster child, he hasn’t written anything since becoming sober. He now serves as a mentor and teacher to at-risk kids. The seven days referenced in the title pertain to a week Eva and Shane spent together back in high school. 

They meet up again at a literary event after not seeing or speaking to each other since that week 15 years ago. Through flashbacks, we learn how intense that week was and how it inspired each writer’s career. It’s in these vignettes where much of the triggering content takes place. What follows is their attempt to repair what mistakes were made in their youth and not let this second chance at love go to waste.

Suspending Disbelief

Generational trauma and chronic illness are major themes in this book. If I knew this going into it, I would be less confused about the dark turns this book takes. At first, I was disappointed. I just wanted to be swept into a love story and not weighed down by real life. In retrospect, the depiction of tragedies and hardships are what I liked best. 

Tia Williams doesn’t shy away from showing how debilitating an unseen illness (in Eva’s case, migraines) can be. It causes you to bow out of social situations last minute or narrows down your career choices. It requires the patience and understanding of loved ones who might not be able to relate to your experience, but trust that you’re not making this stuff up for attention. You find out who your true friends are because they’re flexible and give you grace to do what’s needed for your health.

The progression of the novel shows how the parenting choices of one generation affect the next. Eva’s mother, Lizette, is an enigma to her granddaughter Audre. Childhood flashbacks show this is by design. As a result of her upbringing, Eva makes different choices for raising her daughter. It turns out Lizette’s upbringing shaped her, and so on and so forth. Generational trauma continues until someone decides to change it. Eva insists on being the heroine in her family tree. 

Shane’s experience in the foster system shaped him. Seeing how he pays his success forward to other kids in similar situations made him a fuller character. In order to affect change in society, we need to help each other and not drop the ladder for those coming behind us. 

Darkness Before Dawn

In the end, the realness of these characters’ backstories allow me to suspend disbelief for the love story. Otherwise, I don’t buy into it. As intense as teenage romances can be, no one can convince me that one week nearly two decades ago is enough to inspire two young adults to become literary giants in their field. 

The promise of humor and romance enticed me into the book, but the relatability of the characters’ experiences made me stay and enjoy it. The Black literati, whose parties and hobnobbing give the book the “beach read” feel I wanted, deliver the joy. As does the relationship between Eva and Audre – there’s something special about the bonds between a mother and daughter, taking on the world together.  

I didn’t expect to be inspired to write about Seven Days in June for this blog. But I’m learning to run with inspiration when it strikes, as long as it gets me writing. And obviously, this book did. 

Let me know if this book is on your list or it reminds you of another book I should check out!