Jessica Stanley’s sophomore novel Consider Yourself Kissed is a luminous, perceptive exploration of what it truly means to build a life with someone while struggling not to lose yourself in the process. Set against the backdrop of a tumultuous decade in British politics, Stanley crafts an intimate portrait of modern love that resonates with painful authenticity.
The novel follows Coralie Bower, an Australian transplant in London who meets Adam Whiteman, a divorced political journalist with a charming four-year-old daughter named Zora. What begins as a serendipitous romance—they meet three times by chance before properly dating—evolves into a decade-spanning relationship marked by the challenges of blended families, career ambitions, motherhood, and maintaining one’s identity amidst the constant demands of others.
The Dance of Domesticity and Desire
Stanley excels at capturing the complexity of domestic life without romanticizing or sanitizing it. The novel’s narrative spans from 2013 to 2023, as Coralie and Adam build their life together: renovating a house in East London, having two children of their own (Florence and Max), and navigating the complexities of co-parenting with Adam’s ex-wife Marina.
What makes this novel particularly affecting is Stanley’s refusal to reduce her characters to simple archetypes. Coralie is neither a perfect mother nor a flawless partner. She loves her children desperately while sometimes resenting the ways they’ve limited her life. She’s intelligent and capable yet paralyzed by self-doubt. Her relationship with Adam begins with passionate intensity but grows complicated as their lives become entangled with children, careers, and the mundane rhythms of daily existence.
As Coralie tells Adam early in their relationship: “If she didn’t love, she was half a person. But if she did love, she’d never be whole.” This tension—between selfhood and sacrifice—forms the emotional core of the novel.
Political Backdrop as Character
One of Stanley’s most impressive achievements is her integration of British politics into the narrative without ever making it feel like a history lesson. Brexit, the turnstile of Conservative prime ministers, and the COVID-19 pandemic aren’t mere background elements—they’re forces that directly impact the characters’ lives and shape their experiences.
When Coralie discovers she’s pregnant with her second child, it’s against the backdrop of the 2019 general election. As she gives birth, Boris Johnson is hospitalized with COVID. Personal milestones are consistently juxtaposed with public events, illustrating how our intimate lives are inextricably connected to the social and political worlds we inhabit.
Sharp Dialogue and Biting Humor
Stanley’s dialogue crackles with wit and authenticity. Whether it’s the tender banter between Coralie and Adam, tense exchanges with Adam’s mother Anne, or touching conversations with Zora, each character’s voice feels distinct and genuine. The humor is acerbic but never cruel—a perfect reflection of British sensibilities filtered through an Australian lens.
Some of the novel’s most delightful moments come from Stanley’s observations of social awkwardness and family dynamics. During a tense Christmas lunch where politics are discussed, Coralie thinks: “Very cool and normal. A cool and normal thing to say in a cool and normal country.”
The Price of Modern Motherhood
Consider Yourself Kissed offers one of the most honest portrayals of motherhood I’ve encountered in contemporary fiction. Stanley demonstrates how having children transforms not just a woman’s daily routine but her entire sense of self.
After giving birth to Florence, Coralie reflects: “She was a puppet, shaking and waving. Her head was a balloon, floating away.” The physical and emotional toll of parenthood is rendered with unflinching clarity but also deep tenderness.
The novel is particularly insightful about the uneven distribution of domestic labor. While Adam is a devoted father, his career consistently takes precedence, leaving Coralie to handle most childcare responsibilities alongside her own professional ambitions. The resentment this creates simmers beneath the surface of their relationship, eventually boiling over during the COVID lockdowns when the division becomes unsustainable.
Notable Strengths and Moments
- Character Development: Stanley excels at creating complex, flawed characters who evolve believably over time. Coralie’s journey from an uncertain twenty-nine-year-old to a woman reclaiming her identity at forty feels earned and authentic.
- Stepmother-Stepdaughter Relationship: The relationship between Coralie and Zora is particularly well-drawn—tender, sometimes fraught, but ultimately loving. Their swimming trip to Hampstead Ladies’ Pond near the novel’s end is a touching demonstration of their bond.
- Mental Health Representation: The portrayal of Coralie’s breakdown in 2022 is handled with care and nuance. Her deteriorating mental health following her father’s visit feels tragically inevitable rather than contrived.
- Supporting Characters: The novel boasts a rich cast of secondary characters, from Daniel (Coralie’s gay brother) and his larger-than-life husband Barbie to Adam’s prickly mother Anne and her gentle partner Sally.
Room for Improvement
While Stanley’s novel is remarkably accomplished, a few elements could have been strengthened:
- Coralie’s Writing: Throughout the novel, Coralie struggles to work on her manuscript. While this serves as an effective symbol of her stifled selfhood, we get little sense of what she’s actually writing or why it matters to her.
- Pacing: The second half of the novel, particularly the COVID sections, sometimes feels rushed compared to the leisurely development of Coralie and Adam’s early relationship.
- Australian Identity: Although Coralie’s Australian background is mentioned frequently, it occasionally feels like a character trait rather than a fully integrated aspect of her identity and perspective.
- Roger’s Visit: The pivotal visit from Coralie’s father in 2022 is well-executed but could have benefited from further exploration of their complex relationship history.
A Window Into Modern Partnership
What ultimately makes Consider Yourself Kissed so compelling is its celebration of love without sentimentality. Stanley understands that long-term relationships are sustained not by grand gestures but by small kindnesses and mutual growth through difficulty.
The novel’s conclusion feels earned rather than tidy—Coralie and Adam have weathered significant challenges and emerge not with a perfect relationship but with a deeper understanding of themselves and each other. “They knew each other now—properly. The rest of their lives could begin.”
Final Thoughts
Jessica Stanley has crafted a novel that manages to be both achingly specific and universally resonant. Her unflinching examination of motherhood, partnership, and identity makes Consider Yourself Kissed a significant contribution to contemporary fiction about women’s lives.
Like the best literary fiction, it balances humor with heartbreak, lightness with depth. Stanley’s prose is crisp and observant, equally adept at capturing the chaos of a family birthday party and the quiet desperation of a sleepless night.
I was fortunate to receive an advance reading copy of this book just as I was preparing for my own family’s chaotic summer holiday—perhaps the perfect setting to appreciate Stanley’s insights about the messy beauty of family life. This review is my honest assessment of a novel that kept me turning pages long after my children had gone to sleep.
For readers who enjoyed Consider Yourself Kissed, Stanley’s previous novel A Great Hope (2022) explores similar themes of family and identity. Fans might also appreciate works by Meg Mason, Sally Rooney, and Catherine Newman, who likewise explore the complexities of modern relationships with humor and emotional intelligence.
Consider Yourself Kissed is a deeply satisfying sophomore novel that establishes Jessica Stanley as a significant voice in contemporary literary fiction. It reminds us that the most profound love stories aren’t about passion alone but about the daily choice to see and be seen, even when it’s difficult—perhaps especially then.
