Nine Novels That Make an Art of Earnestness
Stef Ferrari Recommends Tayari Jones, Rufi Thorpe, Becky Chambers, and More
Bennie Bosley, the protagonist of my new queer YA holiday romance, Pining for You, is living for Christmas magic and Grand Gesture Romance the way Tiny Tim once did for that goose—and I love that for her. But I did worry those qualities would make her a pariah in an Antihero culture bought into the idea that cynicism and irony are key ingredients to complexity.
But while there are plenty of hills I can do without dying on, I’m happy to get comfortable up here on Mount Earnest and stand by my own beliefs—that sincerity doesn’t mean toothless storytelling; that a hopeful protagonist invites high drama and big questions; that refusing to be bitter or performative is a reason for readers to read on—and when they do, they’ll be rewarded.
Fortunately, I’m in good company up here, and on the shoulders of giants—not to mention a hobbit, a pro wrestler, and a robot. And the following books represent a rich range of literary earnestness.
*

Amor Towles, A Gentleman in Moscow
Earnestness as dignity.
We meet Count Rostov as he commences a criminal sentence. The punishment—confinement to the Metropol Hotel—is designed to strip him of status and luxuries, and one imagines, to cause him to buckle and break. He does neither. Instead, he quietly chooses his act of resistance—to remain unchanged. He arranges his room into a thinking man’s sanctuary. He observes the rituals of food and wine even now, when there’s no one to impress. Eventually, he approaches the job of waiting tables with the same pride as tying a cravat. By demanding dignity for and of himself, he preserves his personhood, but he also extends that dignity to those around him. Over the course of the decades we spend with the Count, his commitment to curiosity, civility, elegance, and beauty is sustained, and in turn, sustains him.

Tayari Jones, Kin
Earnestness as grace.
Annie exudes earnestness in the face of repeated, profound personal devastation. Abandoned by her mother as a child, she spends her life possessed by the hope of finding her again. She doesn’t naively believe her mother is perfect; she’s driven instead by her determination to understand. And because she doesn’t have the means to avoid reality or live in some dream world, Annie’s decisions—to hold a place for the benefit of the doubt, to choose openness and curiosity, to seek the capacity for love in others along the way—is even more powerful. The grace she has adopted in her hopefulness regarding her mother is extended to others in her life as well: when Lulabelle is prickly and puts Annie off, Annie refuses to give up on her, too—and in the safety of her earnest grace, they loosen and lighten in subtle, heartrending ways.

Xochitl Gonzalez, Olga Dies Dreaming
Earnestness as authenticity.
At the start of the story, Olga runs a luxury wedding planning business that might signal success. But Olga discovers she’s searching for more. As she interrogates this internal restlessness she also questions the world around her, and into focus comes a troubling throughline: artifice. Wedding clients perform love instead of living it; her brother, a congressman, disguises his LGBTQ identity to make his political one more palatable; the gentrifiers of her neighborhood trumpet their changes as progress. Most looming is her mother’s abandonment, wrapped up in righteous revolution. Throughout the journey, these realizations clarify what Olga really dreams of—people who say what they mean and mean what they say.

Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow
Earnestness as presence.
“Friendship…is kind of like having a Tamagotchi.” When a friend of Sam’s is struggling with depression and he doesn’t think she wants him around, Marx knows he needs to convert his original advice (“It isn’t about you. Just show up every day to check in with her.”) into code Sam understands. Marx does show up every day, but he never treats his friends like Tamagotchi—there is no one size fits all in his programming. He understands what motivates or stresses them, and meets them exactly where they are with exactly what they need. Marx isn’t the hero of this book, but his superpower may be the most potent—a capacity to amplify our protagonists, slyly slipping them the cheat codes for every challenge, wanting only to watch them level up.

Rufi Thorpe, Margo’s Got Money Troubles
Earnestness as a repeat performance.
A drug addict, professional wrestler, and absent father, Jinx doesn’t initially sit comfortably on Mount Earnest. But although he wasn’t around for much of Margo’s life, now that he’s made the decision to be a part of it, he’s unwavering. And while his fatherly advice is, well, unconventional (and usually of the wrestling variety), it lands because he isn’t dispensing from some father-of-the-year handbook, he’s always talking to Margo. And he always shows up in Margo’s corner, supporting her with choices that would be cause for coronaries among most fathers. Jinx proves you don’t have to be perfect, moneyed, or so-called educated to be an ideal father and grandfather, and that even when it feels like the final bell has rung, there’s still time to show up.

Becky Chambers, A Psalm for the Wild-Built
Earnestness as being all-ears.
A blunt question launches this book: “What do people need?” Throughout this story, Becky Chambers presents existential questions like this, but also asks us to do something much more radical: listen. Dex and Mosscap’s dialogue shows us that the path to understanding, compassion, and true connection isn’t just being curious and paying attention to the details of another’s lived experience, but the feelings of it. And when these characters finish their conversation, you too feel inspired to seek the wonder only found by listening not only with your ears, but your heart.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
Earnestness as extraordinary.
In good times, Sam’s earnestness presents in modest ways: an appreciation for small things (and small potatoes), natural beauty, and his grandest dream of all—to win Rosie’s heart. But when the Orcs come sniffing, those same qualities transform him from fun-loving hobbit to fierce protector. His extraordinary resilience to the One Ring is possible because what Sam wants most in life isn’t power—it’s the pursuit of simple pleasures and ordinary joys. For Sam, friendship beats lordship, kept promises are more precious than gold, and there is no greater kingdom than the one he calls home.

Ann Patchett, Whistler
Earnestness as devotion.
Queer stories (including my own) often make a big deal of found families. To many in the LGBTQ+ community, the notion of unconditional love might as well be a fairy tale; meaningful relationships must be worked for, maintained, and protected—and as such, are rarely taken for granted. On paper, Daphne and Eddie’s relationship was brief and lacked the connective tissue (DNA, legal documents) that might otherwise legitimize it. After four decades without contact, it is also ancient history. But once reunited, Eddie introduces Daphne as his daughter proudly and without irony. He includes her in his life without questioning where or how she belongs. He is unpretentiously affectionate. Because what even is time when a connection was true? Eddie demonstrates what you don’t need to be queer to appreciate: it is devotion, not biology, that makes a family.

Patricia Highsmith, The Price of Salt
Earnestness as instinct.
In many ways, Therese is the picture of earnestness (right down to her appearance in Rooney Mara’s film portrayal—her eyes wider than the rims of Carol’s martini glasses). And when we meet her, she seems utterly beguiled by the world around her, as if just about anything might pique her curiosity. But something about Therese keeps her following the breadcrumbs Carol sets down. Her own desires are complicated, mystical even to Therese herself, and yet, she doesn’t dismiss them. Interestingly, she isn’t guided by hope—that would require knowing what she was hoping for. Instead, her feelings beckon and she follows, trusting where they lead without overanalysis—until instinct becomes choice.
__________________________________

Pining For You by Stef Ferrari is available from Simon and Schuster’s Books for Young Readers.
Stef Ferrari
Stef Ferrari is a three-time Emmy Award–winning and James Beard Award–nominated producer on the PBS docuseries The Migrant Kitchen. She served as senior editor at Life & Thyme and is the author of the young adult novel Pining for You and cookbooks Stuzzichini and Ice Cream Adventures, as well as the coauthor of Aarón Sánchez’s memoir Where I Come From and the nonfiction A Woman’s Place, with Deepi Ahluwalia.



















