Jordyn Taylor’s See You at the Summit starts with a meet-cute: on the first day of her new job, Simone Whittaker is looking for a private place to call her (disapproving) mother when she accidentally knocks over an art installation. Worse yet, the art piece — which is a giant, wooden dragonfly wing — breaks. Worst of all, the brooding artist himself, a carpenter named Ryan Foley, sees it happen. And he’s pissed.
What starts as embarrassing quickly escalates to mortifying: Simone apologizes, Ryan rebuffs her, and then, in a panic, Simone accidentally spills her cold brew on him, which only pisses off Ryan more. The two are immediately enemies.
Given the major negative energy of this interaction, Simone and Ryan’s story may not sound like a classic meet-cute, but their relationship sweetens from there. By necessity the two must attend the Whistler Pride and Ski Festival together for work, where their feelings morph from disdain into something more complicated: Simone begins to see that Ryan can be thoughtful and kind; likewise, Ryan begins to see the fear swirling behind Simone’s bright and sunny demeanor. Beneath their façades both are hiding their own anxieties — so what would happen if Ryan and Simone let each other in? Can Simone still call herself bi if she dates a straight guy shortly after coming out?
See You at the Summit addresses themes of friendship, coming out, self-exploration, and heteronormativity (as well as the biphobia that inherently comes with it). It does all of this through Simone’s point of view, following her through her first days working for Toronto’s brand-new Rainbow Museum, to her first time performing karaoke at a queer bar, to her first Pride event as an out bisexual, and everything beyond.
As a late-bloomer myself, I was excited to read Simone’s story. I came out in my late 20s, a bit younger than Simone, but she and I asked many of the same questions, the most pressing for both of us being: If I date a straight man, am I reallybi? Much like Simone, I felt pressured to “prove” my bisexuality when I first came out, though I could never figure out how to definitively do that. That uncertainty kept me closeted for years. That this was a form of bi erasure didn’t occur to me until later.
Luckily for Simone, her own reckoning with bi erasure, biphobia, and heteronormativity comes much sooner. Taylor handles it beautifully, giving Simone the opportunity to voice her fears and concerns to friends like Lucy and Glen, who rekindle Simone’s faith in humanity by reminding her that she isn’t alone. She isn’t behind. She isn’t less bi for being a woman who likes a man. For me, these explorations were among the most engaging parts of the book. I wholeheartedly agree with author Ann Rose, who noted that See You at the Summit would help late-bloomers feel seen.
In terms of the romance itself, I appreciated how my understanding of Ryan grew slowly as Simone spent more time with him; over the course of Whistler Pride, he transformed from the very flat “brooding artist/carpenter” archetype into a fully-fledged character with an arc of his own. Though the novel handles this transition wonderfully, one of his later conversations with Simone left me feeling a bit less sympathetic. Without spoiling anything: Ryan overreacts to something (I won’t say what). The fact that he overreacted is very much part of the plot, and Simone herself clocks the overreaction as it’s happening, all of which is great — but for me, Ryan’s apology felt less compelling than earlier parts of the novel.
Perhaps I feel less sympathetic towards Ryan because it’s harder to see his progress. When he and Simone are apart, I have to take him at his word when he says he’s working on things, whereas with Simone, I know exactly what she’s worked on, and how hard she’s worked. She makes plenty of mistakes over the course of the novel, and she takes the time to challenge her assumptions, work on her limiting beliefs, and treat both other people and herself better. The way she works on herself is heartening. To its credit, the novel suggests that Ryan is doing the same; personally, I wish I’d seen a little more of this on the page. (It’s a big overreaction, after all!)
That said, the novel plenty makes up for this with its beautiful explorations of identity, which author Emily Harding called “heartfelt.” In early January, the novel was listed on both Autostraddle and Town & Country’s most anticipated reads, and for good reason. In addition to its more introspective scenes, fans of steamy romance will be pleased to know that See You at the Summit is peppered with spicy scenes that explore power dynamics and pleasure in the bedroom. I appreciated the note on which the story ends; it works both literally and metaphorically, and if you want to see exactly what I mean, you’ll have to read it for yourself. Overall, See You at the Summit is a spicy, fun read that asks some deep questions about what it means to be yourself, and follow your heart, in a world that pressures you to fit in.