As an adult, I’ve learned to be stubborn with books. Even if I don’t love what I’m reading, I power through it as if there’s some confessional on the last page that will turn the entire torturous experience of reading something lackluster around. But I gave up on Underwood’s The First Time. Reading it felt like deja vu for a story I didn’t want to hear the first time. I understand, now, that reading a Bachelor book is very different from watching the show. For me, this was just a boring memoir about a boring man.


In fact, I can’t seem to figure out why Underwood wrote a book in the first place. I’d much prefer one from Rachel Lindsay, the show’s first black Bachelor lead (not just Bachelorette!), or someone whose story truly feels unique and impactful. Like The Bachelor franchise, its books are selling a fantasy, the fallacy that there’s anything interesting to glean from them.