Beach Read is a contemporary romance novel by American author Emily Henry published in 2020. It follows January Andrews, a romance novelist, who moves into her recently deceased father’s beach house to work on her new novel. Unbeknownst to her, right next door lives Augustus “Gus” Everett, a classmate from college and now a critically acclaimed novelist towards whom January feels a sense of rivalry. The two decide to switch genres, with January writing a darker novel and Gus writing a lighter one, betting on who can get their book published faster. They grow close, teaching each other their respective genres as they form a more-than-professional bond. In the end, Gus confesses that he has always liked January, and the two live happily ever after.
The book follows a simple plot of enemies-to-lovers/“opposites attract,” while adding some adult elements. For example, January goes through her grief over her late father while trying to come to terms with his infidelity. Another example, Gus grew up in an abusive household, and his ex-wife left him for his best friend. These backstories add dimensions to the characters, like meat around the bone of a rom-com template.
My only gripes with the book all have to do with Gus, from the weird ways he’s portrayed (his “furiously dark eyes”…?) to his refusal to communicate his actions and feelings, but hey. If there’s no Miscommunication Mountain for the main protagonists to climb, then is it really a rom-com?
All in all, Beach Read is a classic rom-com and an easy read. It’s got enough substance to keep the audience entertained, but enough lightness to breeze through the book. It’s fun, it’s summery, and it’s romantic.
Beach Read is a beach read, as Merriam-Webster dictionary defines a beach read as “a usually light work of escapist fiction.” Some could argue that the adult elements of grief and abuse could constitute the book as more than a simple beach read. However, the obvious title, the cover art, and the undeniably “gooey” portrayal of Gus make it hard to define the book as anything other than “escapist fiction.” And that’s the point. Henry, titling this book “Beach Read” is selling the audience the “genre” as the product. With the title, Henry explicitly tells the audience that this book is indeed a beach read, and anyone coming across it will associate the book with summer and the easygoingness of a beach read. In a world of seasonal marketing and the never-ending economic and political doom, who wouldn’t pick up a fun, light book that, from its very cover, tells you that it’s a beach read?
I do have to back up here and recognize the uncanniness of titling a book as a “genre.” Imagine if Stephen King titled a book “Thriller,” or if Barbara Kingsolver titled a book “Historical Fiction.” And what’s more nefarious is the fact that “beach read” isn’t even a real genre at all. As mentioned prior, the definition of a beach read is “a usually light work of escapist fiction.” This definition doesn’t define what kind of theme or style the book should have. The only characteristics a beach read should have, according to this definition, are that 1. they are “usually” light and that 2. they are escapist, both of which are extremely subjective figures. I recently read The Poppy War series by R.F. Kaung, and while the series is not light by any means, I would consider it escapist. The series provided me with great fantastical entertainment, and I spent most of my 9-6 thinking about the plot and the characters. But would anyone consider it a beach read? Probably not. On every vacation, I bring my paperbook copy of Normal People by Sally Rooney. I find the book to be neither light nor escapist, and yet I proudly read it every time I’m on the beach like it’s a ritual. Would anyone else consider it a beach read? Probably not. Or maybe who knows. And isn’t that the issue?
The concept of a “beach read” or summer reading originates from the 19th century, when the publishing industry cashed in on the recent invention of the summer vacation. Originally, a past-time dominated by higher-class men, reading was picked up by working-class women as travel became cheaper and more accessible. Since these books were read during vacation, the themes tended to be lighter and more escapist in nature, typically of romance and female lifestyle genres. In time, publishers directly connected the season of summer to these works of escapist fiction, selling them as books to be read on the beach. So, the term “beach read,” it turns out, was originally a marketing phrase created to sell easy-to-read, mostly female-catered books to a new cohort of people in need of escapism during time away from housework and children.
Even back then, when the first-ever beach reads grew into popularity, religious naysayers argued that reading such “pestiferous trash” was a temptation and devoid of morality. This mentality hasn’t shifted, though no longer based in religion, people still treat beach reads as “sinful and disgraceful […] guilty pleasures.” We look down on books that are simply for entertainment, as if any book that gives us no intellectual enrichment automatically has no value.
But, Henry embraces the idea of the book being a “beach read,” a book of pure entertainment and escapist guilty pleasure. Untethered by the confines of solid genres like “romance” or “comedy” and instead linked to the feeling of summer and indulgence, it makes it easy for an innocent window shopper to pick up the book and take an interest in it.
Beach Read by Emily Henry will not be the last beach read to exist. In fact, as of 2025, Henry has written five additional books that could be categorized as beach reads. So before you dismiss a book by its bright, colorful cover and big block letters, try a couple of chapters. It might become your new guilty pleasure.
KONEY. 
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