Romance novels offer a certain comfort in their familiarity. We pick them up expecting our expectations to be fulfilled. The DNA of You and Me seemed an intriguing variation on the formula due to its setting in an academic research lab. It seemed it would open the door to a discussion about the oft-fraught experiences of women in science within the comforting cocoon of a romance narrative, thus making it thought provoking without being overly emotionally arduous. But while the book may be labelled a romance, I’d heavily contest that. Certainly, the relationship between the ambitious Emily whose tunnel vision over completing her research is typical of many academics, and the inscrutable Aeden, is the primary focus of the novel, but at various points it subverts many of the genre’s hallmarks (including pacing and ‘hitting’ certain plot points) to the point that it doesn’t feel like a standard romance at all.
That being said, I read the book in a relatively short time, as I was swiftly transported into the almost claustrophobic setting of the lab and the pressure-cooker environment. Arguably, this is the novel’s strongest point. Rothman’s background as a research scientist is something she obviously draws upon here. Having friends who are academics and research scientists, I felt Rothman accurately captured the tension, actions, and attitudes that can often permeate a lab. Academia can get very competitive and very high-octane, especially when funding, reputation, and a race to discovery is on the line. And while there are some lovely collegiate environments that exist in research, there are also the less lovely ones when it comes to rivalries for positions, prestige, and credit. This is a world we don’t often discuss or portray in an engaging manner, so the only people who know about it are already in the academic world. Rothman has pried open that closed door to the academic world and gives her readers a peek behind it in a way that is quite accessible.
The storyline itself is interesting, although I would struggle to put my finger on why, exactly. At times, it could read as a bit episodic, but that kept the pace progressing reasonably quickly, which might be one of the reasons the book was so easy to read. Ultimately, the relationship between Emily and Aeden itself was where I felt the book fell down the most: I was not particularly invested in the success or failure of their relationship. From the very outset, the socially reclusive Emily is attracted to Aeden. While initial overwhelming physical attraction is often a staple of romance books, this is generally followed with subsequent explanations about what else may draw the two together. It did not feel as though Emily ever fleshed out what she finds attractive about Aeden beyond what her own obsession fed – she sort of tells us that she finds him easy to talk with, a point of contrast against other dates or men with whom she has been involved, but at no point do we know what subjects they discuss so easily, or what else about him she finds so divergent from other people.
Similarly, at the beginning of their physical relationship, Aeden says to Emily that he can’t be with her in the way she wants, but this is neither explained nor is it sustained, as they swiftly end up ‘together’. This lack of explanation really niggled, as it could have added depth and complexity to their relationship which would have made it feel like a genuine meeting of two people, creating stakes, as it were, that made the reader invested in the relationship. As it was, despite the intimacy of the first person narration through which the book is told, I never felt the wrench of Emily’s deep connection and attachment to Aeden, only a sense of intense physical attraction and a vague hope that things would ‘work out’ (although what that looks like isn’t clearly articulated enough for me to have been invested in that, either). Given the novel’s focus, it’s possible that Rothman’s point is that Emily’s true love is research, and that necessarily makes everything else seem just less important to her; Aeden happens along at a time when she’d have to make the decision to focus on career or family and thus he’s more representative of the choice she faces. But there never really seemed like there was a true choice to be made; she was always going to pursue research first and foremost, however that needed to take.
One aspect I did really like was the inference that the lab boss, Justin McKinnon, was hitting on Emily. But like Aeden’s evaporating emotional barrier, this too becomes a dropped narrative thread. Nevertheless, while it existed, I appreciated the descriptions of Justin’s creepy but-never-overtly-so behaviour; a superior behaving in that way is, unhappily, an all too common occurrence, and the insidiousness of those actions is exactly that they are so difficult to call out because they can easily be brushed aside or explained away. Yet despite putting so much effort into this well crafted description and portrayal, it seemed never to really go anywhere other than in inferential terms. I had to wade in as a reader and connect Justin’s behaviour near the book’s conclusion to the suggestion that he wanted to hop in to bed with Emily and felt scuppered by her relationship with Aeden, but that could just as easily have been his own single-minded need for his lab to achieve results. A little more clarity would have been nice here.
Finally, The DNA of You and Me has some beautiful language and descriptions that evocatively captured settings in a way that made me feel I was present not only in what I was looking at, but the mood created by the weather, the landscape, and Emily’s own feelings. It shows promise for future work by Rothman, and elevates The DNA of You and Me into something that while an imperfect work, is still a quick and relatively easy read.
The DNA of You and Me is available from Amazon, Book Depository, and other good book retailers as of March 31st 2020.
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Synopsis | Goodreads
A smart debut novel—a wonderfully engaging infusion of Lab Girl, The Assistants, and Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine—that pits the ambition of scientific discovery against the siren call of love.
How does smell work? Specifically, how do olfactory sensory neurons project to their targets in the olfactory bulb, where smell is processed? Justin McKinnon has hired fresh-faced graduate student Emily to study that question. What Justin hasn’t told Emily is that two other scientists in the lab, Aeden and Allegra, are working on a very similar topic, and their findings may compete with her research.
Emily was born focused and driven. She’s always been more comfortable staring down the barrel of a microscope than making small talk with strangers. Competition doesn’t scare her. Her special place is the lab, where she analyzes DNA sequences, looking for new genes that might be involved in guiding olfactory neurons to their targets.
To Emily’s great surprise, her rational mind is unsettled by Aeden. As they shift from competitors to colleagues, and then to something more, Emily allows herself to see a future in which she doesn’t end up alone. But when Aeden decides to leave the lab, it becomes clear to Emily that she must make a choice: follow her research or follow her heart.
A sharp, relevant novel that speaks to the ambitions and desires of modern women, The DNA of You and Me explores the evergreen question of career versus family, the irrational sensibility of love, and whether one can be a loner without a diagnostic label.
