Right, let’s get this out of the way: The Selection is not a dystopian masterpiece. If you go in expecting biting political commentary or worldbuilding on par with The Hunger Games, you’re going to be sorely disappointed—and possibly muttering “derivative” under your breath for the first few chapters (guilty). The caste system? Flimsy. The rebel attacks? Vague at best. But here’s the twist… I actually enjoyed it.

Yes, the whole premise screams The Bachelor: Royal Edition. Thirty-five girls in a palace, fighting over one prince while wearing fancy dresses and eating pastries? It’s absurd. But it’s also weirdly addictive. Once I gave up on the “dystopia” part and settled into the romantic fluff of it all, I found myself swept up in the charm.

America Eleanor Singer—ridiculous name aside—is surprisingly alright. She’s sarcastic, grounded, and not half as insufferable as YA heroines can sometimes be. Her quips made me snort-laugh more than once, and I found myself genuinely rooting for her, despite the eye-roll-inducing love triangle.

Speaking of which… Aspen Leger. What an absolute wet blanket. At first, I thought he might be the classic Good Guy™—the one you feel guilty for not liking. But by halfway through, I was practically yelling “off you go” every time he appeared. Maxon Calix Schreave, on the other hand, is an awkward cinnamon roll of a prince who somehow manages to be charming, clueless, and mildly infuriating all at once. His courtship strategy? Kiss all the girls and hope for the best. Classic.

The writing? Light, breezy, and occasionally bizarre—particularly when Maxon Calix Schreave “sings” his lines (why, Kiera Cass, why?). But the pacing is solid, the relationships build nicely, and despite its predictable beats, the book knows exactly what it wants to be: escapist, swoony fluff with a tiara on top.

Look, The Selection won’t change your life. But if you’re in the mood for a comforting guilty pleasure that doesn’t take itself too seriously, this one delivers. It’s Cinderella meets reality TV, with a side of political rebellion you’re better off ignoring. And honestly? That’s fine by me.