The fictional Mistaken Point where this story unfolds seems to exist outside of time. The fashion and technology are distinctly contemporary, but the women move through a world full of analogue arcade games and vintage motorcycles. To some degree this feels true to smalltown life, where things change more slowly than in quickly gentrifying cities, and you might still find an authentically old-timey arcade, however it also feels like an aesthetic choice. Even without the possibility of a monster, the world of this novel is not quite realism. The vivid descriptions of unusual settings (the arcade, a suburban home with a stockpile of weapons, an older butch’s used car graveyard, an abandoned lot with a towering garbage heap at its center)  and the women’s clothes and hair throughout (space buns, platform loafers, a moss green bikini, skater jeans with a tight sports bra) make Veal feel cinematically hyper-stylized. 

When Lawrence first meets her boss, she describes her by saying, “She was as handsome as she was beautiful, backwards baseball cap, tight muscle tee, sea of shaggy brown hair.” While Lawrence herself is embarrassed to be wearing, “green fleece, baggy gym shorts, fuzzy Crocs.”  Lawrence goes on to describe her tour of the arcade, “It was a man-made labyrinth, Theseus and the minotaur walking circles around the pinball machines. I watched the back of her head, the gentle slope of her neck. There was a delicate chain of jewelry, an artifact tucked beneath her tank top. Maybe a cross, a heart-shaped locket?” 

These precise descriptions of the women’s fashion and the environments the characters move through bring the dark, lesbian fantasy version of Mistaken Point to life. As is evident above, Lawrence is in the early throws of a real bad crush. That bubbly, erotically alert tone defines the narrative voice throughout, injecting horny energy and lovesick drama into the prose. While playfulness pervades the novel, Nolan also makes space for the protagonists to have somber and nuanced conversations about violence against women. 

I appreciate that Veal both has something meaningful to say and doesn’t take itself too seriously.  The characters grapple with the fact that misogyny can simultaneously be an atmospheric charge that sets the tone for mundane interactions and the source of acute violence. However, the book balances these heavy introspective moments with campy, often slapstick humour. Veal is a page-turner that manages to pair earnest reflections on queer friendship and the impacts of systemic misogyny, with hammy depictions of an incompetent quartet of lovable monster hunters.