Pity Party by Daisy Buchanan has some of the most believable characters I’ve ever seen in a comedic women’s fiction novel.
The main character, Katherine Attwell, a young British millennial, struggles not only with the grief of losing her husband but with a much deeper wound: abandonment issues caused by childhood trauma, perfectionism, anxiety, and the fear of being herself. Her way of thinking and behaving is also extremely ADHDer — which I can confidently say as an ADHDer who has worked with the neurodivergent community for 11 years.
We don’t know this at the start of the novel. It initially seems like a typical heterosexual romance — beginning with the funeral of Katherine’s husband, Ben, who died in a sailing accident. Katherine is devastated by his death, though she denies her grief and throws herself into her job at an environmental sustainability company. Like many ADHDer people, Katherine seeks refuge in her special interest — and like many grieving people she tries to prove to the world that she is good enough for living. But after a sudden meltdown at work, she’s forced to take a break and is sent to a mental health retreat by her supportive mother-in-law.
The novel follows two interwoven storylines. In one, we see Katherine at the wellness retreat, where she meets other women experiencing mental health crises, leading to a series of absurd, touching, and often hilarious situations. The second storyline traces Katherine’s past, from her first meeting with Ben to the unraveling of their relationship — which, in truth, ended before Ben’s death. Though Katherine was deeply attached to Ben, he distanced himself after her miscarriage, and she sought emotional support from her co-worker, Lou. With the help of her best friend Annabel, Katherine realizes she’s in love with Lou.
Raised by a grandfather who pushed her to conform, Katherine couldn’t easily recognize or accept her bisexuality. At first, she struggles to accept that she’s bi, telling herself that “everyone dreams about women”, that it’s “just a stress thing, or a vitamin deficiency, or a sign of me embracing my own feminine power”. As Annabel puts it, Katherine isn’t used to listening to herself. Only after Ben asks for a divorce — and before his accidental death — does Katherine allow herself to act on her feelings for Lou. But when Ben dies, she cuts Lou off, punishing herself for being bi and for daring to feel happiness. Her grief deepens. It’s only at the wellness retreat that Katherine realizes the immense pressure she’s been under: trying to be the perfect wife, overworking herself in her ecological projects, denying her sexuality — all linked to her strict upbringing. She begins to understand that she must embrace her emotions and stop chasing perfection.
By the end of the novel, Katherine reunites with Lou, with the final line leaving me with mixed feelings:
I’m just a girl, standing in front of a girl, deciding she doesn’t have to be good anymore. Because she is good. Good enough to live a big, bright life.
On one hand, I love that Katherine finally accepts her differences and stops being afraid of change. On the other, as someone who has also dealt with abandonment issues, I’m uneasy about the idea of finding happiness in another person so soon after a traumatic loss. There’s a troubling theme in modern culture — including in some stories about bisexuality — that suggests we must find our “other half” as quickly as possible to feel whole.
That said, Pity Party is a refreshing and affirming example of a novel that treats bisexuality with honesty and care. It’s especially important and cool that the novel does not portray the bi character as a villain or bisexuality as the reason a marriage failed. Instead, it shows a complex, compassionate journey of self-discovery where bisexuality is not a cause of destruction, but a step toward self-acceptance. What makes Pity Party stand out isn’t just the emotional intelligence or the well-observed commentary on being a woman under pressure, especially if you are queer.
Katherine is a deeply relatable character for bi people who realized their identity later in life, especially after a heterosexual relationship, and for those who grew up in a biphobic environment. Her mental health struggles will resonate with many readers, especially given the minority stress that LGBT people often face. Katherine can inspire newly out bi folks to be braver and more compassionate toward themselves. Unfortunately, from my experience working with the LGBT community, I know that self-criticism and the impulse to “save the world” while neglecting oneself are common among us. Pity Party is not just funny — it’s also moving and insightful. It’s a novel that moved me for reasons far beyond bisexuality, yet it beautifully highlights how embracing one’s sexual orientation is often a vital part of the journey toward wholeness.
If you’ve ever tried to fit yourself into a life that didn’t quite fit for you because you feel an obligation to be a “good girl”, Pity Party might hit you harder than you expect.