Is Autumn’s Buzziest Book ‘Fruit Fly’ Actually Worth The Hype?
It’s the book dominating every reading list, book club, and algorithm right now. Pitching itself with the tagline Go Gay, Go Sad, Go Dark, Josh Silver’s dark LGBTQ+ satire, Fruit Fly, completely consumed me this month. I’m not sure I can neatly summarise all my thoughts into one cohesive review, but take this as my official petition to move it to the top of your TBR list.
Content Warning: Features explicit depictions of addiction, substance abuse, homelessness, sexual violence, domestic abuse, mental illness, and suicide.
What is it about?
We start with Mallory Maddox hiding in the bathroom at her own party. She is a now washed-up author, living in the shadow of her best-selling novel, Shallow Embers. Years on from her big debut, she finds herself staring down a case of writer’s block and a career that has quietly fizzled out. Meanwhile, her husband Ronan’s career as a powerful TV executive appears to be thriving.
Then she crosses paths with Leo, a young homeless addict who trades sex for drugs and a place to stay. Leo is vulnerable, enigmatic and, to a desperate writer, exactly the kind of story the world wants right now. Mallory decides that she is the person to tell it. Leo, it turns out, has plans of his own. What follows is a satirical thriller about who gets to profit from other people’s pain, with the plot only growing darker and more gripping with the turn of every page.
I challenge you to put it down
The term “unputdownable” gets thrown around a lot when people want to say a book is good, but I truly am short of other ways to describe the instant pull I had to this novel.
Fruit Fly is fast-paced, sharp, and simultaneously brimming with wit. That is the clever, and at times, slightly uncomfortable part, because the subject matter is anything but. Addiction, homelessness, sexual violence and domestic abuse all sit at the heart of this book, and Silver still finds the humour in it. However, crucially, the laughs never feel like they are making light of the subject. It’s a delicate and technical dance, but one that Silver masters so elegantly.
The term “Unputdownable” gets thrown around a lot when people want to say a book is good, but I truly am short of other ways to describe the instant pull I had to this novel.
Amelia, Culture & Lifestyle Editor
Fruit Fly doesn’t shy away from heavy themes. Instead, it tackles everything from mental illness and suicide to exploitation and substance abuse completely head-on.
Silver refuses to tiptoe around the grim details, opting for blunt, confronting language over softening metaphors. At times, I felt as if he leaned a little too heavily into shock value, particularly when describing the sexual acts Leo is asked to perform by various men, but overall, that bluntness gives the book a raw quality that I admired. You never feel protected from what these characters are going through, and I think that is the point.
You never feel protected from what these characters are going through, and I think that is the point.
Characters you can’t stop thinking about
If you read my thoughts on Yesteryear and Look What You Made Me Do, you will know I have a soft spot for a female lead who is unravelling in spectacular fashion. Mallory slots right into that club. She is as toxic as she is magnetic, as she poses as Leo’s therapist as a way of extracting information to ultimately exploit his story. Yet, as the novel progressed, I found myself growing strangely fond of her, quietly praying she’d somehow get the outcome she so desperately wanted.
If you read my thoughts on Yesteryear and Look What You Made Me Do, you will know I have a soft spot for a female lead who is unravelling in spectacular fashion. Mallory slots right into that club.
Meanwhile, Leo serves as the book’s other protagonist. We spend time inside his head, and he is never reduced to a plot device, even though Mallory very much sees him as one. Through him, the novel also looks at what it can mean to be a queer man in a world that is quick to consume queer pain as a story. Leo’s experience is messy, painful and often unfair, but he has agency, wit and plans of his own. He is more than the tragedy Mallory wants to turn him into, and that distinction matters.
And then there is Ronan, Mallory’s husband, but, more importantly, my pick for antagonist of the year. He is controlling, infuriatingly manipulative and quietly chilling. The way he tightens his grip on Mallory’s life as the novel progresses makes for a deeply unsettling read. He is the kind of villain who makes you want to throw the book across the room, in the best possible way.
And then there is Ronan, Mallory’s husband, but, more importantly, my pick for antagonist of the year.
The verdict
I would definitely categorise this as a Marmite book, as the polarised reviews online attest to. If you want something warm, gentle, and reassuring, this isn’t the book for you. It’s dark, brutal, and unapologetically uncomfortable. That said, I am wholeheartedly in the five-star camp. Bold, bleak, and ridiculously addictive, it’s the kind of story that lodges in your head. Honestly, I haven’t stopped thinking or talking about it, for that matter, since.
Buy your copy of Fruit Fly here
Looking for something similar? Read these next
A high-tension, fast-paced drama exploring morals, public narrative, and internet culture. When an anonymous list alleging sexual misconduct by prominent men goes viral, a high-profile couple’s life and upcoming wedding are thrown into complete chaos.
For another chaotic, morally grey female protagonist who gets far too entangled in someone else’s personal life. A transcriptionist for a sex therapist becomes obsessively fascinated by a client (dubbed “Big Swiss”) and starts a messy, deceitful relationship with her in real life without revealing who she is.
If Leo’s story was the part of Fruit Fly that broke your heart, this one is a must-read. Set in working-class Glasgow, it’s a raw, beautiful, and deeply devastating look at queer love, addiction, classism, and survival in a hostile environment.
Our November pick
Next up, we are completely shifting gears from fiction to the explosive, headline-grabbing memoir Careless People by Sarah Wynn-Williams. A former diplomat who spent seven years inside Meta, Wynn-Williams pulls back the curtain on the unchecked power, greed, and corporate chaos driving Big Tech.
Equal parts jaw-dropping whistleblower account and darkly funny corporate expose, it’s a brilliant, urgent look at what happens when tech giants “move fast and break things”, including the people who work for them.
