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It turns out “contemporary romance” doesn’t mean what I think it means. AND it’s not the same thing as “chick lit.” I’m also learning that the latter term, while still widely used, is viewed as inherently sexist by some. What led me down this rabbit hole? First, my misconception about Seven Days in June being predominantly upbeat and light. Subsequently, other books in the genre keep surprising me by going deeper emotionally than I anticipate. This next read is no exception.
The Heart Principle by Helen Hoang left me feeling ALL the feels. Having read her previous two books, I thought I knew what to expect, but this one, oof. For those unfamiliar with her previous tomes, The Kiss Quotient and The Bride Test, Hoang writes about people diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder finding love. She shares the perspective of those who have the disorder and those who love them with grace and respect, in no small part because she was diagnosed with it in 2016.
Eager Anticipation
My mental health history automatically drew me to Hoang and her work; I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder and depression in college. My youngest sister recommended the first novel after receiving it in her Book of the Month box. She thought I might like it, and she rarely steers me wrong. So I’ve been a loyal fan of this author ever since.
Reading about neurodiverse characters is a breath of fresh air for anyone who doesn’t see themselves in mainstream media. Hoang also gives readers an inside look into Vietnamese culture, which allows me to better empathize with a community outside of my own. Her books offer some steamy bodice-ripping moments, for those who enjoy a satisfying denouement to romantic tension.
Hoang’s third book delivers on all of that. But The Heart Principle proves heavier and darker than the other two. Inspired by her own experiences, she writes frankly about caregiver burnout, suicidal ideation, and depression. Anyone who may be triggered by those topics should know they are strong threads throughout the book.
The Breakdown
Anna, a violinist who gains fame via YouTube, struggles with musician’s block following the unexpected fame and adoration. Her family and boyfriend don’t understand, so she seeks help with a therapist. Then her boyfriend, Julian, announces he wants an open relationship just to make sure he’s making the right decision before proposing to Anna. What a catch! People-pleasing Anna feels like she has no choice but to go along with it and agrees. Her family adores Julian, and on paper they’re a perfect match, so who is she to say no?
We see a flicker of her resolve when she decides to try a one-night stand in retaliation. She downloads a dating app and meets Quan, a character introduced in The Bride Test. He has his own reasons for agreeing to a tryst. They fail at consummating the first time, and the second, and the third. Instead, they become friends. And find themselves falling in love.
When Anna’s father suffers a stroke, she becomes his full-time caregiver, alongside her domineering older sister and mother. This causes her mental health to spiral further. She’s still technically in a relationship with both Julian and Quan. Her music is on the back burner. And she’s watching her father forced to live against his will. All the while reconciling her recent autism diagnosis with who she’s always been.
Feeling Other
Needless to say, this part of the book is where the romance takes a turn. Hoang depicts the strong pull cultural norms have in our psyche. How isolating it can be when you don’t feel in control of your own decisions. What it’s like to be an outsider in your own family. To not be seen as you truly are, only how others want you to be.
Anxiety and depression have been a part of me for as long as I can remember. Insomnia plagued me until adulthood because my mind couldn’t shut off the “what if” thoughts. Depression came in waves. In high school, I vividly remember watching a Zoloft ad and relating to the sad blob. But I thought that couldn’t possibly be for me, a teenage girl growing up with a roof over her head and loving family and friends. I must be mistaken or overdramatizing my feelings. After all, it’s common knowledge that I am “too sensitive.”
When college crept to a close, I had a major depressive episode and started seeing a therapist. I ran out of other options to help manage my existential dread and panic of “what now?”
Finding Relief
Through my work with her, I slowly learned that not everyone feels the way I do. They don’t just handle it better. My genetics and environment contribute to what I now know is generalized anxiety disorder. And my risk for depression is increased.
This epiphany led me to find, through trial and error, how to alleviate my symptoms. It took years, and a bout with postpartum depression, to be willing to try medication. In a strange twist of fate, over 15 years after I first saw the antidepressant ad and found a kindred spirit in the blob, Zoloft saved my life. It curbs my anxiety to such a degree that I’ve been on it ever since.
Some days are better than others. Along with daily medication, I need to exercise regularly and have weekly therapy just to get to a baseline that feels good for me. As my husband can attest, if I miss any of these things for long, it’s noticeable. But it helps to talk about and be open about my mental health with anyone who will listen. Which is why The Heart Principle, and Hoang’s books in general, make me feel like I’m in good company. It helps to feel less “other.”
Write What You Know
Hoang discloses in the Author’s Note how she was able to tap into the realities of depression and suicidal ideation so well – the book is half memoir veiled in fiction. Hoang’s personal struggle with her mental health delayed the book’s publication by a year. Part of me wonders if this admission could have served the reader better at the beginning of the book instead of the end. I can’t say for sure.
Before I read the author’s note, I could sense this book was written from a deeply personal space. I recognize myself in some passages. During my darkest depressive episodes, no one saw my suffering. From the outside I looked “normal.” I put on a mask so I could blend into what I “should” look like. And on the rare occasion I did reveal how much I hurt on the inside, family and friends found it difficult to believe because there was no physical evidence to support my claims.
In their defense, it’s hard to believe what you can’t see. Especially when you have support on so many fronts, but your usual tools aren’t working. The symptoms of mental illness don’t just clear up on their own with time. They’re chronic and fluctuate day-to-day.
One-size does not fit all when it comes to help, and there’s no cure.You have to do the work of figuring out what helps and what doesn’t. The stigma around talking about mental health makes it harder to get the help you need. If someone has strep throat, you don’t think twice when they take medicine to clear it up. Why can’t it be the same with a chemical imbalance in the brain?
A Happy Ending
The Heart Principle shows these struggles in vivid detail. Which is why I found myself crying openly at the end of the book. I found a kindred spirit in Anna, who struggles to feel safe expressing herself as she is because she knows it’s so different from what others expect of her.
Until she finds Quan. She can risk being real with him because it’s meant to be a one-time thing. That allows her to let her guard down. If she disappoints someone she has no intention of seeing again, it’s less scary than letting down her family or friends or colleagues.
Of course the romance aspect of this novel offers moments of fun and friskiness. Readers looking for sultry scenes won’t be disappointed. The vulnerability both Quan and Anna feel in revealing themselves to each other, physically and emotionally, make their connection stronger. Which is true of any relationship.
Opening yourself up to someone else risks them not liking the real you. But the reward that comes with feeling acknowledged for being yourself, well, there’s really nothing like it.