Audrey Ingram’s third novel, The Summer We Ran, attempts to weave together the intoxicating romance of first love with the ruthless world of political ambition. Set against the backdrop of Virginia’s gubernatorial race, the story follows Tess Murphy and Grant Alexander—former teenage lovers turned political rivals—as they navigate the treacherous waters of public scrutiny while confronting the devastating secrets that once tore them apart.
The novel employs dual timelines, alternating between the summer of 1996 when seventeen-year-old Tess falls deeply in love with Grant at his family’s Virginia estate, and 2021 when both have risen to become serious gubernatorial candidates. This structure serves the story well initially, creating a compelling contrast between youthful idealism and adult pragmatism, but ultimately becomes one of the book’s most significant weaknesses.
Character Development: Authentic Voices, Uneven Growth
Tess Murphy: The Sympathetic Protagonist
Ingram crafts Tess as a genuinely compelling character whose journey from a working-class teenager to a seasoned politician feels authentic and earned. Her voice carries the weight of someone who has fought for every opportunity, and her internal struggles with identity and belonging resonate throughout both timelines. The author excels at capturing Tess’s vulnerability beneath her political armor, particularly in scenes where she grapples with the intersection of her past and present ambitions.
Tess’s relationship with her mother provides some of the novel’s most emotionally resonant moments. The tension between protection and opportunity, between love and desperation, feels lived-in and real. Ingram’s portrayal of their class anxiety and the high stakes of their summer employment creates a palpable sense of unease that effectively drives the plot forward.
Grant Alexander: The Problematic Male Lead
Grant proves more problematic as a character, though not without complexity. His privileged background and the abuse he suffered at his father’s hands create an interesting dichotomy, but Ingram struggles to make him consistently sympathetic. His actions in both timelines often feel more driven by plot necessity than authentic character motivation.
The revelation that Grant leaked Tess’s abortion scandal to derail her campaign represents a character betrayal that the narrative never adequately addresses or resolves. While the author attempts to justify this through Grant’s desperation and political pressure, it fundamentally undermines the romantic storyline and makes his eventual redemption feel unearned.
Writing Style: Evocative Prose Marred by Structural Issues
Ingram demonstrates considerable skill in her prose, particularly when describing the lush Virginia landscapes and the intoxicating atmosphere of first love. Her writing captures the sensory details of summer romance—the heat, the secrecy, the intensity of teenage emotions—with remarkable precision. Passages describing Tess and Grant’s clandestine meetings in the fields between properties shimmer with authentic emotion.
However, the author’s handling of the dual timeline structure becomes increasingly problematic as the novel progresses. The constant shifting between past and present creates a choppy reading experience, and the reveals feel manipulative rather than organic. The pacing suffers particularly in the political sections, where the machinations of campaign strategy often overshadow character development.
Thematic Exploration: Ambitious But Uneven
Class and Power Dynamics
The novel’s strongest thematic element lies in its exploration of class differences and how they shape relationships and opportunities. Ingram effectively demonstrates how Tess’s working-class background influences every decision she makes, from her initial reluctance to pursue Grant to her later political calculations. The contrast between Tess’s cottage and Grant’s mansion serves as more than mere setting—it becomes a character in itself, representing the chasm that separates their worlds.
Political Authenticity
The political elements of the story feel researched and authentic, particularly the portrayal of how gender affects political campaigns. Ingram’s insights into the double standards faced by female candidates—the impossible balance between appearing strong yet likable, ambitious yet nurturing—ring true and add depth to Tess’s character arc.
Family Trauma and Its Legacy
The novel’s handling of abuse and family trauma, particularly through Grant’s relationship with his father Richard and the circumstances surrounding his mother Kay’s death, provides emotional weight but feels somewhat disconnected from the main narrative. The revelation about Richard’s affair with Madeline Milton and its impact on Kay’s suicide adds complexity but arrives too late to significantly impact the emotional trajectory.
Critical Assessment: Where the Novel Falters
The Pregnancy Plot Device
The central conflict revolving around Tess’s teenage pregnancy and subsequent abortion feels increasingly contrived as the story progresses. While the author handles the emotional weight of this decision with sensitivity, its use as a political weapon feels manipulative. The revelation that Grant orchestrated the leak of this information fundamentally damages his character in ways the narrative never adequately addresses.
Resolution Issues
The novel’s conclusion feels rushed and unsatisfying. After building considerable tension around the election and the couple’s reunion, Ingram resolves too many conflicts too quickly. The political consequences of Grant’s actions feel minimal, and his romantic reconciliation with Tess lacks the emotional weight their history demands.
Supporting Character Development
While Tess and Grant receive considerable development, supporting characters often feel more like plot devices than fully realized people. Mara, Tess’s campaign manager, serves primarily as exposition delivery, while Grant’s wife Cecilia remains frustratingly one-dimensional despite the emotional complexity her situation should provide.
Literary Merit and Genre Positioning
The Summer We Ran occupies an interesting space between literary fiction and popular romance, but doesn’t quite succeed in either genre. The political intrigue and class commentary elevate it above typical romance fare, while the focus on relationship dynamics prevents it from achieving the depth of serious literary fiction.
Compared to Ingram’s previous works, The River Runs South and The Group Trip, this novel shows growth in character complexity but regression in plot coherence. The ambitious dual timeline structure appears inspired by successful novels like The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo or It Ends with Us, but lacks the emotional precision that makes those works so effective.
Similar Reading Recommendations
Readers who appreciate The Summer We Ran might enjoy:
- It’s a Love Story by Annabel Monaghan – Another dual timeline romance with political undertones
- Beach Read by Emily Henry – For the enemies-to-lovers dynamic and witty dialogue
- The Proposal by Jasmine Guillory – Political romance with class consciousness
- Expiration Dates by Rebecca Serle – Dual timeline structure with emotional depth
- The Kiss Quotient by Helen Hoang – Character-driven romance with social commentary
Final Verdict
The Summer We Ran succeeds as an ambitious attempt to blend political drama with second-chance romance, but ultimately falls short of its considerable potential. Ingram’s evocative prose and authentic portrayal of class dynamics create a compelling foundation, but the novel suffers from structural issues and character choices that undermine its emotional impact.
The book works best when focusing on Tess’s journey and the authentic portrayal of first love’s intensity. However, the political machinations feel forced, and Grant’s character arc lacks the consistency needed to make the romance truly satisfying. While the novel raises important questions about power, privilege, and the cost of ambition, it doesn’t explore these themes with sufficient depth to overcome its narrative shortcomings.
Despite these criticisms, The Summer We Ran offers enough emotional resonance and political insight to satisfy readers seeking intelligent romantic fiction. Ingram’s growth as a writer is evident, and her ability to capture the complexity of relationships across time suggests even stronger work ahead.
For readers willing to overlook some structural flaws in favor of compelling character work and authentic emotional stakes, The Summer We Ran provides a satisfying, if imperfect, exploration of love, loss, and the prices we pay for our ambitions.
