Come and Get It is an intricate campus novel that intersects class, race, desire and indiscretion. Featuring an ensemble of young women, Kiley Reid’s follow-up to the Booker-longlisted Such a Fun Age unfolds from several perspectives, and shows in subtle ways how disparate lives can brush up against, intertwine with, and encroach on, each other.
Agatha Paul is a visiting professor at the University of Arkansas, having moved from Chicago after separating from a financially precarious dancer, Robin, whom she married to share her health insurance benefits. By chance, she meets college senior Millie Cousins, resident assistant at Belgrade, the dormitory where junior resident Tyler lives with her roommates Peyton and Kennedy, and friends Casey and Jenna. The latter two sign up with Tyler to be interviewed for Agatha’s new book on wedding traditions.
As the initial interview turns into a discussion on money, the three friends take shape as compelling characters – their decisive answers on what it means to be “classy” or “ghetto” reveal an astute view of the current zeitgeist. They are ignorant and intelligent, juvenile and sincere, but, above all else, undeniably charismatic. Tyler is on a housing scholarship because of her incarcerated father, Casey is on an “ethnic/diversity” scholarship, and Jenna is on the only “real” academic scholarship, although her orthodontist father still gives her “practice pay checks” while she works part-time for “fun money”.
In different ways, money is a primary concern for all characters throughout the novel. Agatha resents Robin for failing to contribute financially in their relationship, but when she is with her, she often catches herself in disbelief that she’s dating a truly talented artist – as if Robin’s attraction to her validates a longstanding insecurity. Robin offers Agatha a social capital that cannot be qualified, becoming a trophy and a status symbol Agatha benefits from by proximity. There is the suggestion that relationships are always transactional, even if the exchange is not monetary. Wealth can make individual lives easier and shared lives more complicated, but in both cases, it’s a poor substitute for affection.
Having worked throughout a gap year taking care of her sick mother, Millie is on her way to becoming a homeowner, and takes on several odd jobs to make the down payment, including allowing Agatha to sit in her room every week to record conversations between Tyler and her inner circle next door, which Agatha then uses to write a series of thinly veiled articles about the girls’ financial situations. “She knew it was dishonest journalism and she didn’t care. She was hurt but she wasn’t hurting anyone. She was using real quotes but not real names. And this wasn’t the New York Times. This was Teen Vogue.” Agatha’s age, position and new work environment give her opportunity to wield a power she has never had – the kind Robin monopolised when they were together. She tells herself she can do “whatever she wants” like a mantra, and she does just that.
The novel is a portrait of the minutiae of university life, driven by an intriguing cast of characters as they invent and reinvent themselves. In its best parts, it’s a slow burn, and at its worst, it’s a meandering epic. Key backstories are withheld for much of the novel. Characters bleed into each other and small details become fixations. Actions and interactions border on illicit. Some mistakes are accidental while others are imprudent. People are exploited and bought off. Intimacy cannot help but be measured in dollars. Everyone is trying to get ahead and fortune favours those who are bold enough to take it. But in the end, perhaps the things worth holding on to are the ones that come most freely.
