Flatiron Books, $16.99, ISBN 978-1-250-29565-1
Contemporary Fiction, 2019 (Reissue)
Beth O’Leary’s The Flatshare is the romantic equivalent of sharing a plate of nachos—sweet, messy, and loaded with so much cheese you’ll need a lactase pill. It’s irresistibly satisfying, much like the urge to snoop through your flatmate’s stuff when they’re not home.
The plot is a modern-day fairy tale, except instead of glass slippers, we have Post-it notes, and the castle is a London flat so cramped it makes Cinderella’s shoe closet look like Buckingham Palace.
Our star-crossed lovers, Tiffy Moore and Leon Twomey, find themselves in a living arrangement so bizarre that it feels like the setup for a bad sitcom written by an AI that’s been fed nothing but rom-coms and real estate listings. They share the same bed but never meet, like two ships passing in the night—if those ships were actually just one ship with a really confusing schedule. Leon works night shifts, Tiffy works during the day, and their primary mode of communication is through increasingly adorable (and possibly passive-aggressive) sticky notes.
Move over, Tinder! The future of romance is neon-colored paper squares.
But here’s the kicker: Ms O’Leary somehow makes this absurd premise work, proving that love can bloom in the strangest of gardens—or in this case, the most questionably decorated of flats.
Tiffy is a whirlwind of chaos, a craft-loving editor who collects clothes so eccentric they make Lady Gaga look conservative. She specializes in rescuing emotional strays, which explains why she agreed to this living situation in the first place. Leon, on the other hand, is your classic brooding introvert, juggling night shifts as a palliative care nurse with searching for his wrongly imprisoned brother. Because nothing says “romance” quite like a side of criminal injustice to spice up your love life.
The beauty of The Flatshare lies in O’Leary’s talent for making the characters feel like real people—not perfect, but perfectly relatable. It’s like watching your friends make questionable life choices, but with better dialogue and fewer consequences. Tiffy’s journey of recovering from a toxic relationship is handled with surprising nuance, while Leon’s shy, stoic demeanor hides a genuinely good guy beneath all that grump. It’s like he’s allergic to emotions, but in a cute way.
Now, for the weaknesses, because no review is complete without nitpicking. The Post-it note gimmick gets more overused than a gym membership in January. At some point, you start wondering if these two have heard of phones, or if they’re secretly participating in some bizarre stationery-based reality show. Leon’s backstory feels like it was concocted by a “tragic past” generator set to maximum drama. It’s almost as if Ms O’Leary was ticking off boxes: “Sick patients? Check. Wrongful imprisonment? Check. Ability to communicate like a normal human being? Error 404.”
The pacing is also a bit like a drunk person trying to walk a straight line. For the first half, you’re bobbing along the cozy river of rom-com delight, but the second half suddenly turns into Law & Order: Romance Edition with all the prison breaks, courtroom drama, and emotionally charged confrontations. It’s like the book suddenly remembered it had more pages to fill and thought, “Ah, let’s throw in a legal subplot! That’ll keep them awake!”
Despite its occasional dips into melodrama deeper than Tiffy’s craft supply stash, The Flatshare is ultimately charming, heartwarming, and surprisingly insightful. Ms O’Leary tackles heavy topics like gaslighting and emotional abuse with the delicacy of a bull in a china shop—that is, if the bull were surprisingly good at navigating between the teacups.
The romance is quirkier than a ukulele-playing octopus. The banter is sharper than the corners of all those darned sticky notes. The ending is more predictable than a Canadian apologizing, but that’s part of its charm. Sometimes you just want a love story that wraps up with a neat little bow, even if that bow is made entirely of Post-its.
In conclusion, if you’re in the mood for a romantic comedy with heart, humor, and an inexplicable fondness for stationery supplies that borders on fetishistic, The Flatshare is your golden ticket to warm fuzzies. Just be prepared for the occasional cheesy note. Literally. And maybe keep a pad of Post-its handy—you know, in case you feel inspired to leave passive-aggressive notes for your own roommates.
