History & Criticism
![Caroline Kepnes - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B001K8I774.jpg)
You Love Me: A You Novel
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • Can't get enough of Joe Goldberg? Don't miss the latest thriller in Caroline Kepnes's compulsively readable You series, with an all-new plot not seen in the blockbuster Netflix show.
NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY MARIE CLAIRE • "Fiendish, fast-paced, and very funny."-Paula Hawkins, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Girl on the Train
Joe Goldberg is done with the cities. He's done with the muck and the posers, done with Love. Now he's saying hello to nature, to simple pleasures on a cozy island in the Pacific Northwest. For the first time in a long time, he can just breathe.
He gets a job at the local library-he does know a thing or two about books-and that's where he meets her: Mary Kay DiMarco. Librarian. Joe won't meddle, he will not obsess. He'll win her the old-fashioned way . . . by providing a shoulder to cry on, a helping hand. Over time, they'll both heal their wounds and begin their happily ever after in this sleepy town.
The trouble is . . . Mary Kay already has a life. She's a mother. She's a friend. She's . . . busy.
True love can only triumph if both people are willing to make room for the real thing. Joe cleared his decks. He's ready. And hopefully, with his encouragement and undying support, Mary Kay will do the right thing and make room for him.
NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY MARIE CLAIRE • "Fiendish, fast-paced, and very funny."-Paula Hawkins, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Girl on the Train
Joe Goldberg is done with the cities. He's done with the muck and the posers, done with Love. Now he's saying hello to nature, to simple pleasures on a cozy island in the Pacific Northwest. For the first time in a long time, he can just breathe.
He gets a job at the local library-he does know a thing or two about books-and that's where he meets her: Mary Kay DiMarco. Librarian. Joe won't meddle, he will not obsess. He'll win her the old-fashioned way . . . by providing a shoulder to cry on, a helping hand. Over time, they'll both heal their wounds and begin their happily ever after in this sleepy town.
The trouble is . . . Mary Kay already has a life. She's a mother. She's a friend. She's . . . busy.
True love can only triumph if both people are willing to make room for the real thing. Joe cleared his decks. He's ready. And hopefully, with his encouragement and undying support, Mary Kay will do the right thing and make room for him.
Editorial Reviews
"I will read anything Caroline Kepnes writes. She's one of the smartest, most insightful writers out there with a true gift for crafting flawed, complicated characters that force us to reckon with our own flaws and complications. Joe's back (and so are all the reasons you love to hate him), but in You Love Me, Caroline delves even deeper. She subverts our idea of who Joe is and who he can be. In so doing, she forces the reader to ask themselves, Can Joe change? Can anyone ever really change?"-Nicola Yoon, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Sun Is Also a Star
"Caroline Kepnes is that peerless author who makes me laugh and glance over my shoulder on the very same page. Thank the reading gods that Joe Goldberg is back and just as seductive, dangerous, and witty as ever."-Jessica Knoll, New York Times bestselling author of Luckiest Girl Alive and The Favorite Sister
"I absolutely loved it. It's completely addictive, razor-sharp writing from Kepnes. Internet creeping at its most darkly humorous. Joe's back, and this time it's definitely real love."-Catherine Steadman, New York Times bestselling author of Something in the Water
"Caroline Kepnes's original magic trick was getting readers to root for the murderous Joe Goldberg; now, in You Love Me, her mastery deepens in making readers love him. Filled with her signature wit, incisive social commentary, and pathos, this is Kepnes's best yet."-Andrea Dunlop, author of We Came Here to Forget
"A strange delight . . . Series fans will eat this up."-Publishers Weekly
"Kepnes's series continues to be a sly, subversive exploration of what people choose to reveal and what they hide in their relationships, and just how difficult it is to truly know another person. That Kepnes manages to limn such heady subjects in such a compulsively readable way while serving up twists aplenty is the reason the series still feels fresh three books in. . . . There's never been a better time to get acquainted with Kepnes's dangerously appealing leading man."-Booklist
(starred review)
"[Caroline] Kepnes's savage takedowns of pretentious blowhards continue to make Joe a more culturally aware Dexter, or perhaps a more romantic and humorous Hannibal, as he pillories the bad taste of his rivals and victims."-LitHub
"Caroline Kepnes is that peerless author who makes me laugh and glance over my shoulder on the very same page. Thank the reading gods that Joe Goldberg is back and just as seductive, dangerous, and witty as ever."-Jessica Knoll, New York Times bestselling author of Luckiest Girl Alive and The Favorite Sister
"I absolutely loved it. It's completely addictive, razor-sharp writing from Kepnes. Internet creeping at its most darkly humorous. Joe's back, and this time it's definitely real love."-Catherine Steadman, New York Times bestselling author of Something in the Water
"Caroline Kepnes's original magic trick was getting readers to root for the murderous Joe Goldberg; now, in You Love Me, her mastery deepens in making readers love him. Filled with her signature wit, incisive social commentary, and pathos, this is Kepnes's best yet."-Andrea Dunlop, author of We Came Here to Forget
"A strange delight . . . Series fans will eat this up."-Publishers Weekly
"Kepnes's series continues to be a sly, subversive exploration of what people choose to reveal and what they hide in their relationships, and just how difficult it is to truly know another person. That Kepnes manages to limn such heady subjects in such a compulsively readable way while serving up twists aplenty is the reason the series still feels fresh three books in. . . . There's never been a better time to get acquainted with Kepnes's dangerously appealing leading man."-Booklist
(starred review)
"[Caroline] Kepnes's savage takedowns of pretentious blowhards continue to make Joe a more culturally aware Dexter, or perhaps a more romantic and humorous Hannibal, as he pillories the bad taste of his rivals and victims."-LitHub
Readers Top Reviews
SabineCaitlinsuzzann
I loved that all three of these books kept me interested, usually in a series I find subsequent books tend to bore me or lose my attention, but this series definitely kept me interested the whole way through. Highly recommend Caroline Kepnes as an author, I really enjoyed her writing style in this series!
Veronica T
Great book, but I thought when I bought this book it would come brand new but I found some marks and stains which sucks but still in the middle of reading the book and it’s phenomenal. But wish it came in better condition and wish I got paper back but they didn’t have it at the time 🥲
angelique lahtinen
OMG this is such a good read way better than the first two You books I read I have a quarter left of the book I love the story line and I loved it was different from season 3 Caroline Kepnes best novel I hope the 4th You novel just as good I literally could put it down.
asemsaysCatherine P
This book was so highly anticipated and then reading it, I’m so disappointed. This book was such a slow start and then it finally got good and then it got gross and weird and the ending was awful. This book was so bad I honestly hope there isn’t a book 4 which sucks because I loved the first two and the show. I literally only finished this book because I had to know for myself but man I wish I borrowed it and didn’t waste my money.
J. ChristoBetsy Pasc
I read YOU and HIDDEN BODIES about 5 times each (before there was even a whisper of a tv show being made.) They are just SO we'll written yet also believable. Every side character was more fleshed out than Mary Kay. At least Beck was smart and Love was super interesting. (NOT HAPPY AT ALL with Love's arc in this book). But Mary Kay had zero personality and I just could not for the life of me see why Joe would even take a liking to her (?) Every character in this was batshit crazy and Joe was the rational one. Also everytime the teenage daughter spoke I was like "is this what the author thinks teenage girls sound like???" I'm so annoyed at this installment I don't even know what to say right now.
Short Excerpt Teaser
1
I think you're the one I spoke to on the phone, the librarian with a voice so soft that I went out and bought myself a cashmere sweater. Warm. Safe. You called me three days ago to confirm my new job at the Bainbridge Public Library. The call was meant to be short. Perfunctory. You: Mary Kay DiMarco, branch manager. Me: Joe Goldberg, volunteer. But there was chemistry. We had a couple laughs. That lilt in your voice got under my skin and I wanted to google you, but I didn't. Women can tell when a guy knows too much and I wanted to come in cool. I'm early and you're hot-if that's you, is that you?-and you're busy with a male patron-I smell mothballs and gin-and you're foxy but subdued, showing off your legs as you hide them in opaque black tights, as concealing as RIP Beck's curtain-less windows were revealing. You raise your voice-you want the old man to try out some Haruki Murakami-and I'm sure of it now. You're the one from the phone but holy shit, Mary Kay.
Are you the one for me?
I know. You're not an object, blah, blah, blah. And I could be "projecting." I barely know you and I've been through hell. I was detained in jail for several months of my life. I lost my son. I lost the mother of my son. It's a miracle I'm not dead and I want to talk to you right f***ing now but I do the patient thing and walk away. Your picture is on the wall by the lobby and the placard is final, confirmation. You are Mary Kay DiMarco, and you've worked in this library for sixteen years. You have a master's in library science. I feel new. Powerless. But then you clear your throat-I'm not without power-and I turn and you make a peace sign and smile at me. Two minutes. I smile right back at you. Take your time.
I know what you're thinking-What a nice guy, so patient-and for the first time in months, I'm not annoyed at having to go out of my f***ing way to be nice, and patient. See, I don't have a choice anymore. I have to be Mr. F***ing Good Guy. It's the only way to ensure that I never fall prey to the American Injustice System ever again. I bet you don't have experience with the AIJ. I, on the other hand, know all about the rigged game of Monopoly. I used my Get Out of Jail Free card-thanks, rich Quinns!-but I was also naïve-f*** off, rich Quinns-and I'll wait for you all day long because if even one person in this library perceived me as a threat . . . Well, I won't take any chances.
I play humble for you-I do not check my phone-and I watch you scratch your leg. You knew that you'd meet me in real life today and did you buy that skirt for me? Possibly. You're older than me, bolder than me, like high school girls to my eighth-grade boy and I see you in the nineties, trotting off the cover of Sassy magazine. You kept going, marching through time, waiting and not waiting for a good man to come along. And here I am now-our timing is right-and the Mothball is "reading" the Murakami and you glance at me-See what I did there?-and I nod.
Yes, Mary Kay. I see you.
You're Mother of Books, stiff as a robot in a French maid costume-your skirt really is a little short-and you clutch your elbows while the Mothball turns pages as if you work on commission, as if you need him to borrow that book. You care about books and I belong in here with you and your pronounced knuckles. You're a librarian, a superior to my bookseller and the Mothball doesn't have to whip out a credit card, and oh that's right. There are good things about America. I forgot about the Dewey F***ing Decimal System and Dewey was known to be toxic, but look what he did for this country!
The old man pats his Murakami. "Okay, doll, I'll let you know what I think."
You flash a smile-you like to be called "doll"-and you shudder. You feel guilty about not feeling outraged. You're part doll and part ladyboss and you're a reader. A thinker. You see both sides. You make another peace sign at me-two more minutes-and you show off for me some more. You tell a mommy that her baby is cute-eh, not really-and everyone loves you, don't they? You with your high messy bun that wants to be a ponytail and your sartorial protest against the other librarians in their sack shirts, their slacks, you'd think they'd be put off by you but they're not. You say yeah a lot and I'm pretty sure that a wise Diane Keaton mated with a daffy Diane Keaton, that they made you for me. I adjust my pants-Gently, Joseph-and I donated one hundred thousand dollars to this library to get this volunteer gig and you can ask the state of California or the barista at Pegasus or my neighbor, whose dog shit on my lawn again this morning, and they'll all tell you the same thing.
I am a good f***ing person.
It's a matter of legal fact. I didn't...
I think you're the one I spoke to on the phone, the librarian with a voice so soft that I went out and bought myself a cashmere sweater. Warm. Safe. You called me three days ago to confirm my new job at the Bainbridge Public Library. The call was meant to be short. Perfunctory. You: Mary Kay DiMarco, branch manager. Me: Joe Goldberg, volunteer. But there was chemistry. We had a couple laughs. That lilt in your voice got under my skin and I wanted to google you, but I didn't. Women can tell when a guy knows too much and I wanted to come in cool. I'm early and you're hot-if that's you, is that you?-and you're busy with a male patron-I smell mothballs and gin-and you're foxy but subdued, showing off your legs as you hide them in opaque black tights, as concealing as RIP Beck's curtain-less windows were revealing. You raise your voice-you want the old man to try out some Haruki Murakami-and I'm sure of it now. You're the one from the phone but holy shit, Mary Kay.
Are you the one for me?
I know. You're not an object, blah, blah, blah. And I could be "projecting." I barely know you and I've been through hell. I was detained in jail for several months of my life. I lost my son. I lost the mother of my son. It's a miracle I'm not dead and I want to talk to you right f***ing now but I do the patient thing and walk away. Your picture is on the wall by the lobby and the placard is final, confirmation. You are Mary Kay DiMarco, and you've worked in this library for sixteen years. You have a master's in library science. I feel new. Powerless. But then you clear your throat-I'm not without power-and I turn and you make a peace sign and smile at me. Two minutes. I smile right back at you. Take your time.
I know what you're thinking-What a nice guy, so patient-and for the first time in months, I'm not annoyed at having to go out of my f***ing way to be nice, and patient. See, I don't have a choice anymore. I have to be Mr. F***ing Good Guy. It's the only way to ensure that I never fall prey to the American Injustice System ever again. I bet you don't have experience with the AIJ. I, on the other hand, know all about the rigged game of Monopoly. I used my Get Out of Jail Free card-thanks, rich Quinns!-but I was also naïve-f*** off, rich Quinns-and I'll wait for you all day long because if even one person in this library perceived me as a threat . . . Well, I won't take any chances.
I play humble for you-I do not check my phone-and I watch you scratch your leg. You knew that you'd meet me in real life today and did you buy that skirt for me? Possibly. You're older than me, bolder than me, like high school girls to my eighth-grade boy and I see you in the nineties, trotting off the cover of Sassy magazine. You kept going, marching through time, waiting and not waiting for a good man to come along. And here I am now-our timing is right-and the Mothball is "reading" the Murakami and you glance at me-See what I did there?-and I nod.
Yes, Mary Kay. I see you.
You're Mother of Books, stiff as a robot in a French maid costume-your skirt really is a little short-and you clutch your elbows while the Mothball turns pages as if you work on commission, as if you need him to borrow that book. You care about books and I belong in here with you and your pronounced knuckles. You're a librarian, a superior to my bookseller and the Mothball doesn't have to whip out a credit card, and oh that's right. There are good things about America. I forgot about the Dewey F***ing Decimal System and Dewey was known to be toxic, but look what he did for this country!
The old man pats his Murakami. "Okay, doll, I'll let you know what I think."
You flash a smile-you like to be called "doll"-and you shudder. You feel guilty about not feeling outraged. You're part doll and part ladyboss and you're a reader. A thinker. You see both sides. You make another peace sign at me-two more minutes-and you show off for me some more. You tell a mommy that her baby is cute-eh, not really-and everyone loves you, don't they? You with your high messy bun that wants to be a ponytail and your sartorial protest against the other librarians in their sack shirts, their slacks, you'd think they'd be put off by you but they're not. You say yeah a lot and I'm pretty sure that a wise Diane Keaton mated with a daffy Diane Keaton, that they made you for me. I adjust my pants-Gently, Joseph-and I donated one hundred thousand dollars to this library to get this volunteer gig and you can ask the state of California or the barista at Pegasus or my neighbor, whose dog shit on my lawn again this morning, and they'll all tell you the same thing.
I am a good f***ing person.
It's a matter of legal fact. I didn't...
