A modern-day reimagining of Romeo and Juliet with queer, neurodiverse leads (and a chance for a different ending)? Yes, please!
Stonewall Award Honor author Taylor Tracy sets the tale of star-crossed lovers in New York City’s Little Italy and environs, where two rival restauranteur families battle not only for customers, but also for the very spirit of Italian cuisine. Fourteen-year-old Romea “Ro” Marino’s father wants to add a modern twist to the classics. Thirteen-year-old Julianna “Jules” Cangelosi’s father sticks with traditional recipes. And a long-running feud between the two men seems to go beyond just food. That becomes problematic when the two girls meet on the first night of the neighborhood’s San Gennaro Festival.
For Jules, the night is special. She usually doesn’t like crowds, and has spent the past few years grieving her older brother, who died of sudden cardiac arrest during the COVID shutdown. Her parents have been overprotective because of her anxiety and autism. But Jules has been working on facing her fears, and she’s ready to try going to the Festival on her own.
The adventurous Ro, an Eagle Scout and “a poet at heart,” has just had her heart broken when she discovers the girl she has a crush on is not only straight, but homophobic. Ice cream at the Festival with cousins Merissa and Leo will help her heal. She’s also at loose ends as she prepares to balance classes and extracurriculars in her first year of high school, and to figure out what role Scouts BSA will play in her life now that she’s gained its top rank. She achieved that goal early, finding that having a plan and goals helps her with the sometimes impulsive and racing thoughts from her ADHD.
You can guess how the tale, told in the girls’ alternative perspectives, goes from here: They meet at a party, share a first kiss, and only later realize the family identity of the other. But as the two grow closer, the animosity between their families could keep them apart.
Tracy gives us a fresh take on the story beats, however, with lively original characters and loving descriptions of New York Italian-American family life and food. The book also offers nuanced and affirming insights into Ro and Jules’ neurodiverse identities, along with gentle but clear examples of what supporting a neurodiverse child should (and shouldn’t) look like.
Tracy clearly knows the source material, but smartly uses it as a loose framework rather than a tight mold. Also, because there have been too many stories of queer people that end in tragedy (the “bury your gays” trope), I will risk a spoiler and note that this one does not do so. Tracy turns the Bard’s ending on its head and gives us instead a hopeful vision of what can happen when people listen to each other rather than belittle and criticize. It’s cleverly done and the message feels even more powerful because of how it contrasts with the original tale. (Still, readers may enjoy seeing how other parts of the original are woven in, like the Mercutio-Tybalt fight and Romeo’s banishment.) It’s an absolutely delightful read and highly recommended. One word of warning: It will make you hungry.
Ro, Jules, and their families are White. Ro’s dad also has ADHD. One other friend comes out as gay.
