Sunburn – Chloe Michelle Howarth (2023) Book Review

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“To be with her is a sin, to be without her is a tragedy.”

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Chloe Michelle Howarth’s Sunburn is a queer coming-of-age novel that explores first love, identity, and the quiet pressures of growing up in rural Ireland during the early 1990s. Following the relationship between Lucy and Susannah, it’s drawn comparisons to acclaimed novels such as Normal People and Call Me By Your Name for its lyrical prose and emotionally intimate storytelling. While it’s certainly a book brimming with atmosphere and tenderness, it also proved to be much more of a divisive read than I was expecting. Join us at What We Reading as we delve into what Sunburn gets right, as well as the aspects that didn’t land for me in this Sunburn book review! 

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Date Published: 2023

Author: Chloe Michelle Howarth

Genre: Queer, Romance

Pages: 288 

Goodreads Rating: 4.27/5

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Sunburn Summary

It’s the early 1990s, and in the Irish village of Crossmore, Lucy feels out of place. Despite her fierce friendships, she’s always felt this way, and the conventional path of marriage and motherhood doesn’t appeal to her at all. Not even with handsome and doting Martin, her closest childhood friend. Lucy begins to make sense of herself during one long hot summer, when a spark with her school friend Susannah escalates to an all-consuming infatuation. 

Fearful of rejection from her small and conservative community, Lucy starts living a double life, hiding the most honest parts of herself in stolen moments with Susannah. But with the end of school and the opportunity to leave Crossmore looming, Lucy must choose between two places, two people, and two futures, each as terrifying as the other. But only one can offer her real happiness. 

What Worked

One of Sunburn’s greatest is its vivid depiction of rural Ireland. Chloe Michelle Howarth captures the rhythms of small-town rural living with remarkable authenticity, from the natural dialogue to the unspoken expectations that govern the community. The setting never feels like a backdrop; rather, it becomes an active force that moulds Lucy and Susannah’s relationship and the difficult decisions they confront. 

I particularly liked how Sunburn approached religion. Instead of making faith an explicit source of conflict, its influence subtly permeates every facet of the characters’ lives. It’s present in attitudes, traditions, and expectations without needing to be constantly named, making the world feel all the more believable. 

The novel’s emotional high points come through its portrayal of family, particularly in the girls’ relationships with their mothers. Lucy’s confrontation with her mother after her relationship is discovered is heartbreaking, while Susannah’s experience of abandonment is just as devastating. These scenes carry incredible emotional weight and are easily among the book’s most memorable moments, highlighting Howarth’s ability to write intimate, painful family dynamics with both sensitivity and nuance. 

More broadly, Sunburn offers a tender and oftentimes heartbreaking coming-of-age story that adds another valuable voice for LGBTQ+ fiction, exploring first love and identity against a setting that feels believable from start to finish. 

What Didn’t

My biggest gripe with Sunburn stems from its narration. Chloe Michelle Howarth’s prose is incredibly lyrical, with passages that are often strikingly beautiful, but I never fully believed it as the voice of a teenage narrator. Lucy’s meditations frequently feel too polished and overly poetic for someone her age, creating a distance between the character and the story that I personally struggled to overcome. 

That disconnect is reinforced by a moment where Lucy narrates Susannah’s actions and emotions, despite not actually being there to witness them. It’s a small segment, but one that pulled me out of the story and felt like a strange oversight in an otherwise tightly written novel. 

Lucy herself is also a challenging protagonist to follow. Her confusion and mistakes are entirely in keeping with the novel’s coming-of-age themes. I found it tough to warm to her because of how often she acts selfishly or sometimes downright cruel towards the people around her. 

What made this even more frustrating was her awareness of those actions. Instead of behaving impulsively and then reflecting on it later, Lucy is well aware of the hurt she’s causing through her actions and continues regardless. I get that the moral messiness in Sunburn is an intentional choice and reflects the complexities of growing up, but it ultimately made her a protagonist I admired more than I actually enjoyed spending time with. 

Verdict

Ultimately, Sunburn is a novel I admired far more than I liked. Chloe Michelle Howarth vividly captures the aches and pains of coming of age, the quiet pressures present in rural Ireland, and the unique challenges faced by a queer relationship within that environment. Coupled with an ending that feels deliberately ambiguous yet cautiously hopeful, these elements create an undeniably evocative reading experience. 

But, for me, Sunburn often felt far more like a moodboard than a fully fleshed book. It’s rich in atmosphere, emotion, and beautiful imagery, but I never found myself especially connected to Lucy as a main character. Her internalised guilt, persistent angst, and repeated willingness to hurt those around her made it tough to invest in her journey, even when I had my head around the reasons behind her actions. 

The comparisons to books like Call Me By Your Name or Normal People are easy to see, especially in the novel’s lyrical prose and emotionally restrained exploration of first love. But while Sunburn shares plenty of the same ingredients, it never came together in quite the same way for me. It’s a thoughtful and often poignant debut novel with moments of clear potential, but one that ultimately left me appreciating its craft more than feeling moved by its story. 

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Our Rating: 2.5/5

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