Javier De Lucia’s The Wake of Expectations is a raw, poetic unraveling of self in a world where dreams, disillusionment, and the pressure to perform collide. The book journeys through a fragmented psyche, moving between poetic introspection and philosophical musings, all while probing the cost of living under the weight of inherited ideals and cultural norms. It’s less a narrative and more a lyrical excavation—a fevered diary torn at the seams.

What struck me first was the voice. It’s angry, tender, lost, and deeply human. De Lucia doesn’t hold your hand. He throws you in. His words crackle with emotion—grief, rage, shame. The prose can be jagged, like broken glass, but that’s the point. It’s meant to cut. It’s meant to hurt. And it does, in the best way. I found myself underlining lines not because they were pretty, but because they felt true. Like he’d scooped thoughts out of the back of my mind and dared to say them out loud.

But some passages drift into abstraction. There were moments when it felt like De Lucia was writing for himself. It’s unapologetically personal, but it’s fantastic when it lands; however, I craved more shape and clarity. Still, even in its chaos, there’s something magnetic about it.

The ideas in the book were thought-provoking, and something I really enjoyed about this novel. He questions everything: ambition, masculinity, belonging, even time. And he doesn’t offer answers. Just cracks. Openings. Invitations to think, to feel. I came away shaken, but also strangely comforted. There’s something healing in the honesty, in knowing someone else is just as bewildered by the world.

The Wake of Expectations isn’t for everyone. It’s heavy. It’s weird. It doesn’t pretend to be neat or nice. But if you’ve ever felt like you’re drowning in who you’re supposed to be, this book might throw you a rope—or at least show you you’re not alone. I’d recommend it to readers who crave emotion over plot, who aren’t afraid of the dark corners. It’s poetry with teeth. And it lingers.

Pages: 551 | ASIN : B0DYBJVG9C