There’s something profoundly honest about watching someone rebuild their life from the rubble of their past. Ava Wilder’s third novel, Some Kind of Famous, strips away the glamorous veneer of celebrity to examine what happens when the spotlight dims and genuine healing must begin. This isn’t a redemption arc wrapped in neat packaging—it’s messy, complicated, and achingly real.
Merritt Valentine once commanded stages and dominated charts as a teenage musical prodigy. A decade later, she’s hiding in the sleepy Colorado ski town of Crested Peak, living with her twin sister Olivia and nursing wounds that run far deeper than a mere career setback. When a broken-down house and an inconveniently handsome contractor force her back into the world, Merritt must confront the question she’s been avoiding: what does life look like when music—the very thing that defined you—becomes the thing you can no longer touch?
The Architecture of Recovery
Wilder demonstrates remarkable maturity in her handling of mental health throughout this narrative. Rather than treating Merritt’s borderline personality disorder and history of addiction as plot devices, the author weaves them into the fabric of who Merritt is—not as defining limitations, but as challenges she navigates daily with varying degrees of success. The portrayal feels neither romanticized nor sensationalized, a difficult balance that Wilder maintains with impressive consistency.
The small-town setting of Crested Peak functions as more than mere backdrop. It becomes a character itself, offering both sanctuary and scrutiny. Wilder captures the peculiar intimacy of small-town life where everyone knows your business but might also show up with casseroles when you need them most. The community’s warmth coexists with its boundaries, creating a space where Merritt can tentatively explore who she might become without the pressures that nearly destroyed her.
A Romance Built on Borrowed Time
Enter Nikolaos Petrakis, the local contractor whose disarming kindness and patient persistence gradually chip away at Merritt’s carefully constructed walls. Their relationship unfolds with a premise that initially seems counterintuitive: knowing it has an expiration date makes it safer. Niko’s impending departure from Crested Peak creates a framework where both can explore their connection without the pressure of forever.
What makes this romance work:
- The emotional honesty between characters who see each other clearly, flaws and all
- Physical chemistry that crackles on the page without overwhelming the emotional development
- Both protagonists bring their own baggage and growth trajectories to the relationship
- The temporary nature creates space for vulnerability without demanding permanence
- Genuine friendship forms the foundation before deeper feelings emerge
Wilder excels at writing the small moments that build intimacy—shared coffee in unfinished kitchens, conversations during long drives, the way Niko studies Merritt’s face while drawing her portrait. These details accumulate weight, making the emotional stakes feel earned rather than manufactured.
The Music of Silence
Perhaps the novel’s most poignant thread explores Merritt’s fractured relationship with music. Wilder doesn’t offer easy answers or miraculous returns to form. Instead, she examines the complicated grief of losing the thing you loved most, especially when that loss was self-imposed as an act of survival. The scenes where Merritt tentatively approaches her creativity again—working with young artist Sadie, playing at a birthday party, considering what it might mean to make music on her own terms—resonate with authentic vulnerability.
The novel raises compelling questions about the cost of artistic dedication and the price of public consumption. Through Merritt’s experiences, Wilder critiques an industry that chews up young talent and spits out damaged adults, while also acknowledging the intoxicating allure of creative connection.
Where the Foundation Shows Its Cracks
Despite its considerable strengths, Some Kind of Famous isn’t without its structural challenges. The pacing occasionally stumbles, particularly in the middle section where the SummerFest planning sequences, while charming, sometimes interrupt the narrative momentum. The Mr. Crested Peak pageant subplot, meant to inject levity, occasionally feels disconnected from the novel’s emotional core.
Areas where the novel could strengthen:
- The secondary characters, while likable, occasionally feel more like archetypes than fully realized individuals
- Some conflict resolution happens off-page or resolves too neatly, particularly regarding Merritt’s family dynamics
- The temporary relationship premise, while intriguing, sometimes limits the exploration of deeper commitment fears
- Certain plot developments feel telegraphed well in advance, reducing narrative surprise
The ending, which this review won’t spoil, may divide readers. Wilder commits to her premise in ways that feel both brave and potentially unsatisfying, depending on what readers seek from their romance novels. It’s an ending that prioritizes emotional honesty over conventional satisfaction, which some will appreciate and others may find frustrating.
Wilder’s Evolution as a Writer
Readers familiar with Wilder’s previous novels—How to Fake It in Hollywood and Will They or Won’t They—will recognize her signature blend of Hollywood insider perspective, sharp wit, and genuine emotion. However, Some Kind of Famous feels more introspective and ambitious in its thematic scope. Where her earlier works leaned into the entertainment industry’s glitter and chaos, this novel strips away the glamour to examine what remains when the performance ends.
The prose itself has grown more confident, with Wilder trusting her readers to sit with difficult emotions rather than rushing to comfort or resolution. Her dialogue remains crisp and naturalistic, capturing the rhythms of how people actually speak when they’re trying to connect, deflect, or protect themselves.
A Book That Earns Its Emotional Weight
Some Kind of Famous succeeds because it refuses to offer simple solutions to complex problems. Mental health recovery isn’t linear. Trauma doesn’t disappear because you find love. Small towns aren’t magical cure-alls, and neither are relationships. What Wilder offers instead is something more valuable: the suggestion that healing happens incrementally, through community, creativity, and connection—and that sometimes the bravest thing you can do is show up for your own life, even when it looks nothing like what you planned.
The novel works best when read as a character study rather than a conventional romance, though it delivers satisfyingly on both fronts. Merritt’s journey from isolated and self-protective to engaged and vulnerable forms the story’s beating heart, with the romance serving as catalyst rather than cure.
Similar Reads to Explore
If Some Kind of Famous resonates with you, consider these companion reads:
- “Beach Read” by Emily Henry – Another exploration of creative burnout and unexpected connection
- “The Unhoneymooners” by Christina Lauren – Small-town romance with emotional depth
- “People We Meet on Vacation” by Emily Henry – Time-limited relationships and second chances
- “The Friend Zone” by Abby Jimenez – Romance that honestly addresses mental health
- “The Soulmate Equation” by Christina Lauren – Finding love while rebuilding after loss
Final Thoughts
Ava Wilder has crafted a romance that understands the difference between healing and being healed. Some Kind of Famous isn’t perfect—its pacing wavers, some threads feel underdeveloped, and readers seeking traditional happily-ever-afters may find themselves unsettled. But it’s ambitious, emotionally intelligent, and willing to sit with the uncomfortable truth that sometimes love isn’t enough to fix what’s broken, and that’s okay.
For readers willing to embrace a more contemplative romance that prioritizes authentic character development over wish fulfillment, this novel delivers a deeply satisfying experience. Wilder asks us to consider what we owe ourselves versus what we sacrifice for connection, and whether temporary love might teach us more about living than the promise of forever.
In a genre too often content with surface pleasures, Some Kind of Famous dares to dig deeper, finding beauty in the messy, imperfect work of becoming someone new. It’s a novel that lingers long after the final page, asking questions without providing easy answers—and isn’t that what the best stories do?
