There’s no doubt that remembering is reliving. There was a time when I was a complete sentimental mess: if there had been a manual on “how to complicate your life as a bi”, I would have written it in detail. While I was trying to figure out what I wanted from life, and, above all, from my relationships, I ended up hurting people I cared about and piling up mistakes that today make me laugh and blush at the same time. That’s why, as I read Julia Rosenberg’s story, I couldn’t help having flashbacks to my own life. Not because we shared the same experiences, but because I recognized that feeling of trying to discover who you are while stumbling again and again along the way… and sometimes doing it with style.
When I first heard about Best Woman, Rose Dommu’s debut novel, I knew it deserved a review for the Bi Book Club. The novel works as a contemporary reinterpretation of the nineties film My Best Friend’s Wedding and blends humor with drama. But the real reason I wanted to review it was Julia Rosenberg: a twenty-nine‑year‑old trans and bi woman whose identity runs through the entire plot, and whom the story dares to portray in all of her complexity — chaotic, contradictory, and profoundly human. A trans bi protagonist is still rare in literature, and that is why she deserves to be analyzed in depth.
Before continuing, I should warn you that this review contains SPOILERS — so if you don’t want the full gossip, you’d better read the book first.
The novel unfolds between New York and Florida, during the preparations for Julia’s brother’s wedding. Everything becomes complicated when Julia discovers that Kim Cameron, the girl she was in love with back in high school, is now the maid of honor. Julia panics and resorts to a “small” lie to win Kim’s sympathy and affection: she makes her believe that her whole family is against her and that they don’t fully accept her since her transition. That lie soon snowballs, threatening to ruin the growing attraction between them and, at the same time, further complicating her relationship with her family. In that context, Julia must navigate the dynamics of the wedding, reconnect with Ben Otsuka — an openly pansexual childhood friend and sexual partner — and face the tensions with her divorced parents.
From the very beginning, Julia’s bisexuality is not a minor detail. It is established in the first chapters, and it is clear that both her friends and those closest to her have known since she was a teenager. The first moment, when her orientation is made explicit, occurs in a memory set thirteen years before the main events. After a school rehearsal, Kim takes her home and, during the ride, assumes that Julia is a lesbian. Julia immediately corrects her, and when Kim apologizes for the confusion, Julia clarifies:
It’s OK. I know a lot of people think it’s basically the same thing, or that I’m just…pretending I like girls too so I don’t have to like, actually be gay. […] But if I was gay, I would have said I was gay. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’m bisexual.
Julia’s portrayal as a bi woman is, overall, positive. At the same time, she is far from being an idealized figure: she is impulsive, makes mistakes, lies, hurts people she loves, and makes selfish decisions. As the author has explained, one of her goals was to move away from the traditional representation of trans people, and that complexity also extends to Julia’s bisexuality. As Julia herself points out:
Also, in media, trans people often have to be saints and martyrs, or whatever cis people think of us. I wanted to add a chaotic, trans bisexual nightmare to the literary canon.
One aspect that could prove divisive is that some readers may feel certain traits of Julia reinforce stereotypes historically associated with bisexuality, such as promiscuity or indecision. However, the novel acknowledges these prejudices and problematizes them through the protagonist’s own voice. In a discussion with Rachel, Julia rejects the idea that her attraction to more than one gender means she would get involved with just anyone, stating:
I’m also not some chaotic bisexual stereotype who just wants to fuck anything that moves.
She uses humor to highlight her self-awareness of those stereotypes without accepting them as defining. Julia also appears during Aiden’s wedding, when Ben Otsuka jokes about wanting to win over Rabbi Hoffman. Julia responds, laughing:
He was an extremely integral part of my bisexual awakening!
By recalling that stage with humor and without shame, she presents her bisexual awakening as an essential part of her life story.
For bi readers, this representation can be significant because it shows a character whose bisexuality never needs to be proven or justified. Julia can fall in love with a woman while maintaining a close relationship with an ex‑boyfriend; she can question monogamy, make mistakes, regret them, and grow emotionally without any of it being presented as a consequence of being bi. The novel clearly separates sexual orientation from personal flaws, allowing Julia to be imperfect.
At the same time, the book offers a diverse cast of LGBT characters, expanding queer representation in literature.
Ultimately, this is a novel worth recommending to bi readers who are looking for complex characters far from idealizations, to those who enjoy queer romantic comedies with family drama, and to anyone who wants to see how bisexuality and trans identity coexist in the same story. Reading how Julia developed throughout the novel reminded me that chaos is not a flaw but part of what makes us human. Just like her, I learned that stumbling again and again can also be a way of discovering who you are.