Everyone thinks they know how a Hollywood rumor starts. A blurry photo. A "source" talking to Page Six. A stray comment on a podcast. But in Meryl Wilsner’s debut novel, Something to Talk About, the spark is way more mundane and, honestly, way more relatable. It’s a laugh. Specifically, a laugh shared on a red carpet between a powerhouse showrunner and her assistant.
People obsessed.
The internet did what the internet does, and suddenly, Jo Wilkerson and Emma Kaplan were the biggest "ship" in the world, even though they were just... working. This book dropped in 2020, right when we were all trapped inside staring at screens, and it tapped into something visceral about the way we consume celebrity culture. It isn't just a romance. It’s a slow-burn look at power dynamics, the exhaustion of the grind, and how a single paparazzi lens can flip a life upside down.
If you’re looking for a book that moves at a breakneck speed, this isn't it. Wilsner writes at a glacial pace. I mean that as a compliment.
The Slow Burn That Actually Makes Sense
Most romance novels feel the need to rush. You get the "meet-cute," the instant spark, and by chapter ten, they’re professing undying love. Something to Talk About refuses to do that. It’s a workplace drama first. Jo is a legend in Hollywood—a woman who has clawed her way to the top of a male-dominated industry. Emma is her assistant, the person who keeps the gears turning.
The boundary is thick. It’s a literal wall of professional ethics.
Wilsner handles the age gap and the boss-employee dynamic with a level of care you don't always see. It’s not predatory. It’s awkward. It’s messy. Jo is terrified of being seen as "that boss," the one who takes advantage. Emma is trying to figure out if she even has a career of her own or if she’s just a shadow. When the rumors of their affair start circulating, it doesn't bring them together—it actually drives a wedge between them because they’re both so desperate to remain professional.
Honestly, it’s refreshing.
The tension builds through tiny things. A shared coffee. A long flight. The way Jo defends Emma against a sexist director. These moments stack up like bricks. By the time anything actually happens, you’re practically screaming at the pages for them to just admit it. This isn't just about "will they or won't they." It's about how the public's perception of a relationship can actually force the people involved to look at each other differently.
Why the Hollywood Setting Works (For Once)
Usually, books about "Famous People" feel fake. The dialogue is too polished, or the "sets" feel like a generic backdrop. Wilsner clearly did the homework on how a production office actually functions. It’s unglamorous. It’s a lot of schedules, stressful phone calls, and dealing with egos.
Jo Wilkerson isn't just a "celebrity." She’s a worker.
She’s a screenwriter and a showrunner who is constantly fighting for her vision. The book captures that specific exhaustion—the kind where you’ve worked eighteen hours and your brain is fried, but you still have to go stand on a red carpet and look perfect. When Emma is standing there beside her, she’s the only thing that feels real in a world of artifice. That’s the core of the book.
Tackling the "Me Too" Era Without Being Preachy
We have to talk about the context. This book came out in the wake of massive industry shifts. While the romance is the draw, the subplot involving a toxic director and Jo’s past trauma adds a layer of weight that elevates the story. It deals with the reality of being a woman in Hollywood.
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It's about the whisper networks.
The story doesn't shy away from the fact that Jo has had to harden herself to survive. She’s seen as "difficult" or "cold" because she doesn't play the games. Seeing her soften around Emma—not because she’s being "saved," but because she finally feels safe—is a beautiful character arc. It makes the romance feel earned rather than just a plot point.
The Problem With Labels
A lot of readers went into this expecting a high-heat, steamy romance.
They were disappointed.
This is a "closed-door" or "low-heat" book, depending on how you categorize it. The focus is entirely on the emotional intimacy. If you’re looking for The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo levels of tragedy or Red, White & Royal Blue levels of banter, you’re in the wrong place. This is more like a prestige TV drama that happens to have a love story at the center. It’s quiet.
Real-World Impact and Representation
Representation matters, but it shouldn't be the only thing we talk about. Jo is a Jewish lesbian; Emma is a Chinese-American bisexual woman. Their identities are baked into who they are, but the book isn't a "coming out" story. They are already out. They are just trying to live.
Wilsner avoids the "tragic queer" trope entirely.
The conflict doesn't come from their families or society hating them for who they love. The conflict comes from the fame, the power imbalance, and the sheer terror of being vulnerable with another human being. It’s a sophisticated way to handle diverse characters without making their struggle the entirety of their identity.
What Most People Get Wrong About Jo and Emma
There’s a common critique that the book is "too slow." People say nothing happens for 300 pages. I’d argue that everything is happening, but it’s happening in the subtext. You have to read the body language. You have to notice who is holding the door and who is remembering the specific way the other person takes their tea.
It’s a book for people who love the "long game."
In a world where we’re constantly bombarded with "fast fashion" content—things designed to be consumed and forgotten in a weekend—Something to Talk About asks you to sit still. It asks you to pay attention to the silence between the lines of dialogue. It’s a character study masquerading as a rom-com.
Actionable Takeaways for Your Next Read
If this book resonated with you, or if you’re planning to pick it up, there are a few ways to deepen the experience:
- Pay attention to the power dynamics: Note how Jo purposefully tries to give Emma agency throughout the book. It’s a masterclass in how to handle a trope (boss/assistant) that can often feel "icky."
- Look at the media’s role: The snippets of tabloid headlines and social media posts in the book aren't just fluff. They represent the "third character" in the relationship—the public.
- Compare it to Wilsner’s later work: If you liked the vibes but wanted more heat, check out Mistakes Were Made. It’s a very different animal but shows Wilsner’s range in handling complex relationship "taboos."
- Watch for the "Glance": The inciting incident is a single photo of Jo laughing at something Emma said. Throughout the book, look for how many times they don't look at each other to avoid giving the photographers what they want.
The real magic of Something to Talk About isn't the grand gestures. There are no boomboxes outside windows. There are no airport chases. Instead, there’s a quiet realization that the person who knows you best is the person who has been standing right next to you all along, holding your coat and making sure you’ve eaten. It’s a grounded, adult look at what it means to fall in love when the whole world is watching and waiting for you to fail.
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To get the most out of this story, read it during a quiet weekend when you can actually sink into the atmosphere. Don't rush it. Let the tension simmer. By the time you reach the final chapters, the payoff won't just be a kiss—it'll be a sigh of relief that these two complicated, overworked women finally found a place to rest.