Rainbow Rowell, a name synonymous with heartwarming and relatable adult romance, returns with “Slow Dance,” a novel that promises a second chance at love for two childhood friends. For devoted fans like myself, the anticipation was immense, especially after the gems that are Attachments and Landline. However, while “Slow Dance” carries Rowell’s signature charm, it treads a more deliberate path, making it both a slow dance dance and a slow burn romance that might leave some readers wanting more ignition.
The story centers on Shiloh and Cary, childhood friends from Omaha in the 90s whose paths diverge as life takes over. Shiloh dreams of Broadway, while Cary sets his sights on the Navy. Fourteen years later, fate reunites them at a mutual friend’s wedding. Shiloh, fresh from a divorce and navigating single motherhood, feels out of place amidst the seemingly perfect lives of her former classmates. Cary’s reappearance, however, changes everything. Their reconnection sparks a potent mix of nostalgia and possibility, leading to a dance that awakens long-dormant feelings. For the first time, Shiloh considers if their bond could be more than just friendship.
As they navigate the complexities of rekindling their relationship, external pressures mount. Cary’s demanding Navy career, the challenges of Shiloh’s post-divorce life and single parenting, and ingrained communication issues surface, casting shadows on their budding romance. The central question becomes: is this reunion a true second chance, or a nostalgic slow dance dance destined to fade with the music?
As a long-time admirer of Rainbow Rowell’s work, receiving an advance copy of “Slow Dance” was a moment of pure excitement. Her ability to craft realistic, flawed characters and weave narratives that resonate deeply is unparalleled. Her adult romances, particularly Attachments and Landline, have earned a cherished spot in my favorites, thanks to their raw emotional honesty and characters that feel incredibly real. The prospect of a new adult romance from Rowell was genuinely thrilling.
While the premise of “Slow Dance,” set partially in the 90s, and featuring Rowell’s trademark relatable characters falling in love, was undeniably appealing, the execution proved to be a slow dance dance in more ways than one. It’s a slow burn, yes, but also, at times, a slow read. Ultimately, “Slow Dance,” while enjoyable, didn’t quite reach the five-star echelon of Attachments or Landline in my Rainbow Rowell collection.
One of the primary hurdles in fully embracing “Slow Dance” was the character of Shiloh. While her quirkiness is endearing and her dedication as a mother is admirable (Rowell’s portrayal of children is consistently delightful), Shiloh often felt like the main architect of the relationship’s roadblocks. Her constant self-sabotage and erection of emotional barriers could test the patience of even the most understanding partner, like Cary. While this realism is a hallmark of Rowell’s writing, Shiloh’s persistent complications became increasingly frustrating. As a reader, I often longed for her to overcome her overthinking and self-imposed obstacles, especially at crucial moments.
Cary, conversely, seemed almost too accommodating, contributing minimally to the relationship’s conflicts. At times, I wished for him to assert himself more, to add layers to his character beyond unwavering patience and loyalty. While his steadfast nature is evident, delving deeper into his perspective, perhaps through flashbacks from his point of view, would have enriched his character. The narrative is heavily weighted towards Shiloh’s internal world, leaving Cary somewhat underdeveloped. He consistently makes sacrifices and accepts Shiloh’s complexities, and a more balanced give-and-take would have strengthened their dynamic.
However, perhaps the most significant challenge in “Slow Dance” was the non-linear timeline. The present-day narrative unfolds in 2006, interspersed with flashbacks to various points in Shiloh and Cary’s shared history. While flashbacks are essential to understanding their relationship, their presentation felt disjointed. Each flashback section is simply labeled “before,” regardless of its place in the chronological timeline. This lack of clear demarcation made it challenging to track their ages and the linear progression of their past relationship. Even a simple addition of the year under the “before” heading would have significantly improved the timeline’s clarity and flow.
Pacing also contributed to the feeling of “Slow Dance” being a slow dance dance. At 400 pages, the book felt its length, particularly with the back-and-forth timeline. While Rowell’s use of shorter chapters helps, the pacing occasionally felt protracted. Furthermore, a desire for more overt romantic scenes and “spice” emerged. While slow burns are effective, the romantic ignition in “Slow Dance,” after a 14-year wait, felt somewhat muted. A greater sense of passionate payoff would have resonated more deeply.
Despite these points, Rainbow Rowell’s return to adult romance after a decade-long hiatus is still a welcome event. “Slow Dance” offers a relatable and nuanced exploration of second chances, friendship, and the complexities of adult relationships. While it may not reach the heights of her previous five-star romances, it reaffirms Rowell’s talent for creating characters that feel profoundly real and stories that touch the heart.
In conclusion, “Slow Dance” by Rainbow Rowell is a thoughtful and character-driven romance that explores the potential for rekindled love. While some readers might find the pacing slow and Shiloh’s character occasionally frustrating, the novel ultimately delivers a realistic and heartwarming story about second chances and the enduring power of connection. It’s a slow dance dance worth taking for fans of character-driven romance, even if it doesn’t ignite quite as fiercely as one might hope.
