Title: Tomorrow, And Tomorrow, And Tomorrow
Author: Gabrielle Zevin
Publisher: Knopf
Release Date: July 5, 2022
Price: MSRP: $19.00 (USD)

Spoiler warning: This review includes light spoilers, especially around structure, tone, and major character developments.

There’s a version of me out there that loves this book.

He’s probably more patient, more forgiving, and definitely more into literary fiction about emotionally stunted creatives in the ’90s. But the version of me writing this review? He’s grateful for some of the beauty in this story—but deeply disappointed with the journey it took to get there.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow has been hailed as a love letter to video games and a meditation on connection, grief, and creativity. And yes—it’s those things. But it’s also a novel about two people I didn’t enjoy spending time with, dragging me through a relationship that felt more draining than insightful.

What Works: Disability, Death, and Devotion to the Craft

Let’s start with what does work. Gabrielle Zevin’s depiction of disability, particularly through Sam, was one of the book’s strongest elements. There’s a moment when he reflects on his disability, saying that he:

That subtlety is powerful. Sam’s pain—physical and emotional—was always there, but it wasn’t melodramatic. It shaped his worldview quietly, like background music that never stops playing.

The novel’s handling of death also stood out. One major moment in the back half of the book is tender, emotional, and quietly devastating—not because it’s sensational, but because it feels like real life: disorienting and unfinished. Zevin doesn’t rush past grief. She lingers in it. And for that, I was grateful.

And yes—Zevin clearly understands gaming culture. From the way fictional games are described alongside very real video games to the evolution of a startup studio into a full-blown company, there’s an authenticity that grounds the book in something tangible. At times, it felt like I was reading the behind-the-scenes memoir of a real game dev duo who just never made the front page of Boss Rush Network.

What Doesn’t Work: Characters and a Fatiguing Plot

Now the hard part.

I’m all for flawed protagonists. Heck, I just wrote an op-ed extolling the virtues of why we are drawn to morally gray and broken characters. Give me complex, give me conflicted, give me messy all day long. But there’s a difference between flawed and unlikeable. And for me, Sam and Sadie crossed that line far too often. Rude, condescending, petty—their relationship felt less like a creative spark and more like a cycle of resentment and miscommunication. I didn’t root for them. I mostly wanted to step away.

That would’ve been easier if the story hadn’t taken a sharp left turn near the end into a section that felt like it belonged in another book entirely. Without spoiling specifics, the change in style, tone, and pace dragged on far too long and disconnected me from the story’s emotional core.

By the time we returned to “reality,” I was more exhausted than engaged.

Final Score (2.5 out of 5 stars)

I wanted to like this book. On paper, it has everything I usually go for: video game references, generational nostalgia, emotional depth. But it left me feeling worse—not in a cathartic way, but in a drained and disconnected way. And worst of all, it didn’t give me much to reflect on that might help me walk through life differently.

Still, I can’t deny that Tomorrow And Tomorrow, And Tomorrow has moments of grace. It’s a technically impressive novel by a talented writer who loves games as much as (or probably more than) I do. But as a reading experience? It just didn’t respawn for me.

Mark Pereira is a Senior Writer for Boss Rush Network. A lifelong Batman fan and bookworm, he’s passionate about storytelling across games, books, and film. When he’s not reading or writing or playing video games, you’ll find him wrangling his four kids, leveling up in life, or talking nerd culture and parenting on Twitter. You can also follow him on Instagram and Goodreads.