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'Him' by Sarina Bowen and Elle Kennedy

  • Reed
  • Apr 30
  • 2 min read

Updated: May 8

A steamy, soft-edged sports romance that delivers warmth and heart, Him goes down easy—but never quite digs into the stakes beneath the surface.

Authors: Sarina Bowen and Elle Kennedy

Rating: B

Vibe: Idealized love on ice—Him pairs emotional fluency with polished stakes in a story that’s more comforting than complicated.

Quick Take: A fun, emotionally satisfying romance that hits the big feelings—but sidesteps the rougher edges that could have made it truly memorable.


Him follows Jamie Canning and Ryan “Wes” Wesley, childhood best friends turned college hockey rivals, who reunite as summer camp counselors and quickly discover their connection has shifted into something deeper. What unfolds is a story of intimacy, vulnerability, and the emotional thrill of finally letting someone all the way in.


The central relationship works. Wes and Jamie’s chemistry is effortless, and their progression from flirtation to something more committed feels, for the most part, natural and warm. A late scene of reconnection is especially strong—raw without being overwrought, and satisfying in a way that’s earned through slow emotional build.


But for a book that centers on two newly out (or coming-out) young men navigating a big emotional shift, Him smooths over a lot of the real-world friction. Both leads are deeply likable—supportive, handsome, emotionally intelligent, and somehow wise beyond their years. Their conflicts are soft, their communication mostly excellent. Even their “mistakes” feel curated to be safe. That makes for a pleasant read—but not always a compelling one.


While Wes's anxiety about being out in professional sports is addressed with some thoughtfulness, Jamie’s situation is brushed aside far too easily. He’s coaching kids, just coming to terms with his sexuality, and somehow we’re meant to believe that a one-line anti-discrimination policy makes all that fear melt away? That’s not just unrealistic—it underestimates the very real tension gay men face in public-facing roles, especially with children involved. The risk isn’t just theoretical. It’s baked into our cultural memory, and the book barely acknowledges that.


The supporting characters are barely sketched in—mostly there to move the plot along—which leaves the world of the book feeling thin. And while that’s not a fatal flaw, it puts even more pressure on Wes and Jamie to carry the entire emotional arc. They mostly succeed, but I found myself wishing for a bit more push and pull. A subplot, a conflict, a pressure point that wasn’t just romantic or sexual. They’re too easy to love—and that lack of complication made me feel slightly outside the story, rather than inside it.


As for the sex? It's tender, it's frequent, it's clearly written with affection—but also, let’s be honest, it skips over a lot. The spontaneous physicality might make for hotter scenes, but if you’ve ever had gay sex (or talked to someone who has), you know it’s rarely so effortless. The book alludes to prep work but mostly handwaves it away, and places an odd amount of symbolic weight on a final penetrative moment that feels unnecessarily formal. These are young guys. They would’ve jumped in with far less reverence and far more enthusiasm.


Still, I gave it a B because it does a lot right. It’s emotionally attuned. It’s affirming. And it’s enjoyable. But it also feels like a version of a gay love story written to be reassuring—more comforting than true. I liked it. I just wanted more of the mess that makes a story like this linger.


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