After Hours at Dooryard Books by Cat Sebastian
- Reed
- 1 day ago
- 3 min read

After Hours at Dooryard Books
Author: Cat Sebastian
Rating: B+
Vibe: : Tender, quiet, and deeply felt—a love story about finding people whose baggage fits with yours.
It’s 1968 and Patrick O'Hara runs a secondhand bookstore in the gayest neighborhood on the East Coast, spends his nights sleeping his way through the rare book community, and tells himself he's doing fine. Then two people show up who turn his carefully managed life upside down: Nathaniel, a mysterious drifter running from something he won't name, and Susan, Patrick's lifelong friend and sister-in-law, carrying her newborn daughter and the news that Patrick's brother Michael has been killed in Vietnam. What follows is a tender, beautifully observed story about grief, chosen family, and the slow, careful work of letting people in when you've spent years keeping them at arm's length.
I loved Patrick. He's big, burly, generous to a fault—the kind of guy who takes in every stray Mrs. Kaplan sends his way, who knows exactly which rare book a customer is hunting for, who'll give you his last dollar if you need it. But underneath all that warmth is a man who's absolutely terrified of being left behind. He keeps his hookups casual, his friendships at a manageable distance, his heart locked up tight. And Sebastian gets that fear so right. For a lot of gay men, myself included, there's this deep anxiety about abandonment—about building a life only to have it collapse when someone leaves. Patrick's spent years protecting himself from that pain, and watching him slowly, reluctantly let people past his defenses felt achingly real.
Nathaniel's a trickier character. His backstory—why he's running, what he's hiding from—felt a little contrived to me. The mechanics of his situation required some narrative gymnastics that didn't quite land. But here's the thing: I still really liked him. There's something genuine about the way he settles into the chaos of Dooryard Books, the way he softens around baby Eleanor (who will only sleep if Nathaniel holds her), the way he lets himself want something he's convinced he doesn't deserve. His arc isn't about the plot twists—it's about learning to accept love when it's offered.
The found family at the heart of this book is everything. Patrick, Nathaniel, Susan, baby Eleanor, Mrs. Kaplan, the regulars at the bookstore—they're all people carrying heavy things, and they find ways to carry them together. I think so many gay people identify with the need to build chosen family, to find the people who see you clearly and love you anyway. Sebastian understands that. The family here isn't perfect or idealized—it's messy and complicated and sometimes people don't know what to say to each other. But they show up. They try. They make space for each other's grief and joy and fear.
The romance between Patrick and Nathaniel is tender and lovely. It's a slow burn, and the emotional intimacy builds gradually, carefully. But it's important to set expectations here: this is not a plot-driven romance with external stakes and dramatic conflicts. The plot is the relationship. The plot is the found family forming around these characters. If you're looking for high-stakes drama or fast-paced twists, this isn't it. But if you want a story about two people learning to trust each other, about love that grows in quiet moments and small gestures, this is beautifully done.
The grief in this book goes deep, but not in the way I expected. Sebastian doesn't dwell in the darkness—she doesn't make you sit in the raw, unprocessed pain for pages and pages. Instead, the book is about what comes after: the slow work of living with loss, of finding people who understand that everyone's carrying something heavy. It's about finding people whose baggage fits well with yours—not because the pain goes away, but because you're willing to carry it together.
Final take: A tender, emotionally intelligent novel about chosen family, grief, and love in all its messy, beautiful forms. Highly recommended for readers who want substance, heart, and characters who feel like real people navigating an impossible world.
