If you spent any time on "BookTok" or scrolling through literary Twitter over the last few years, you’ve seen that stark, minimalist cover. It’s hard to miss. Lillian Fishman’s Acts of Service book basically became the litmus test for how comfortable you are with messy, morally ambiguous, and—honestly—deeply frustrating characters. It’s a novel that people either worship for its blunt honesty or throw across the room because the protagonist, Eve, refuses to be "empowered" in the way modern feminism usually demands.
What is it actually about? It’s not a self-help manual. If you’re looking for a guide on Gary Chapman’s five love languages, you are in the wrong place. This isn't a book about doing the dishes to show you care. Instead, Fishman takes that "acts of service" phrase and twists it into something much more transactional and, frankly, provocative.
The Plot That Had Everyone Arguing
Eve is in a stable, comfortable, and—let’s be real—slightly boring relationship with her girlfriend, Romane. She’s restless. She’s bored. So, she posts some nude photos online. This leads her to Olivia, and eventually, to Nathan, a wealthy older man. What follows is a three-way dynamic that explores power, sex, and money in ways that feel incredibly raw.
The story isn't a thriller. Nothing "explodes." It’s more of a slow-motion car crash of ethics.
Eve chooses to enter a world where she is, in many ways, being "used," but she’s also the one initiating the encounters. It’s confusing. It’s meant to be. Most books about young women in New York try to make the lead relatable or "girlboss" their way out of problems. Eve doesn't. She leans into the discomfort of being a submissive participant in a wealthy man's life while still trying to claim she’s the one in control.
Why the Acts of Service Book Feels Different
Fishman’s writing style is sparse. There’s no fluff. Some sentences are just two words long. Others stretch out as Eve overthinks her own desires until they don't even look like desires anymore.
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A lot of readers hated Eve. I get it. She’s cold. She makes choices that seem to actively hurt the people who love her. But that’s exactly why the Acts of Service book stayed on the bestseller lists and in the cultural conversation. It asks a terrifying question: Is it possible to be a feminist and still want to be dominated by a man who represents everything you’re supposed to hate?
Power Dynamics and the "Male Gaze"
One of the most intense parts of the book is how it handles Nathan. He’s not a mustache-twirling villain. He’s just a guy with a lot of money and a very specific set of desires. The tension comes from Eve’s internal monologue. She’s constantly dissecting why she’s there. Is she there for the sex? The money? The thrill of being seen through his eyes?
Critics like those at The New York Times and The Guardian pointed out that Fishman captures a very specific "post-consent" era of dating. We aren't talking about Harvey Weinstein-style coercion here. We’re talking about the murky, grey area where people agree to things that might actually be bad for their souls, just to see how it feels.
The Controversy Around "Likability"
We have this weird obsession with "likable" female characters. If a woman in a book does something selfish, the Goodreads reviews are usually a bloodbath.
- "I couldn't get into it because Eve is so annoying."
- "Why would she leave Romane for this guy?"
- "This book is regressive."
But since when is fiction supposed to be a moral compass? Fishman has been pretty vocal in interviews about the fact that she didn't write Eve to be a role model. She wrote her to be a human. Humans are often hypocrites. We say we want equality, but then we’re attracted to power. We say we value honesty, but we lie to ourselves every morning.
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What People Get Wrong About the Title
The title is a clever, almost mean-spirited joke. In the context of "love languages," an act of service is something kind. It’s making coffee. It’s picking someone up from the airport.
In this book, the "acts" are sexual and social services. Eve is performing. She’s serving a purpose in Nathan’s life, and he’s serving a purpose in hers. It’s a cold, hard look at how sex can be a form of labor.
If you go into this expecting a spicy romance, you’re going to be disappointed. It’s much more of a philosophical text hidden inside a contemporary novel. It reads more like Sally Rooney’s Conversations with Friends but with the "edginess" turned up to eleven. It’s less about the "act" and more about the "service"—the idea that we are all, in some way, serving someone else's narrative.
Should You Actually Read It?
Honestly? It depends on your mood.
If you want a cozy read, stay away. If you want a book that makes you question your own boundaries and the way you view power in your own relationships, then yes. Pick it up. It’s a fast read, but it sits in your gut for a long time.
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You’ll probably find yourself arguing with Eve. You’ll definitely find yourself judging Nathan. And you’ll probably feel a deep sense of pity for Romane, who is essentially the collateral damage of Eve’s "self-discovery."
Actionable Takeaways for Readers
If you decide to dive into the Acts of Service book, or if you've already finished it and are staring at a wall wondering what you just read, here is how to process it:
- Analyze the "Performance": Look at the scenes where Eve is with Nathan versus when she is alone. Notice how her language changes. She is a different person depending on who is looking at her. We all do this to some extent.
- Question the Transaction: Ask yourself if Eve is actually gaining anything. Is it freedom? Or is it just a different kind of cage?
- Read the Critique: Look up Lillian Fishman's interviews with The Cut or Vogue. She explains her intent better than any reviewer could. She wanted to write about "the desire to be desired," which is a taboo topic in a lot of modern circles.
- Compare and Contrast: If you liked this, check out Luster by Raven Leilani or The Idiot by Elif Batuman. They all deal with that weird, liminal space of being a young woman trying to figure out if her desires are actually hers or just things she’s been taught to want.
The reality of the Acts of Service book is that it doesn't offer a happy ending. It doesn't offer a "lesson." It just offers a mirror. And sometimes, what we see in that mirror—our vanity, our selfishness, our weird cravings for power—isn't very pretty. But it is real. That’s why we keep talking about it.
To get the most out of the experience, try writing down your "red lines" before reading. What wouldn't you do for money or status? Then, watch as Eve crosses every single one of them. It's an uncomfortable exercise, but that's exactly what great literature is supposed to do. It’s supposed to make you squirm.