I received a digital copy from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

In Pasta Mike, Cotto does a fantastic job of showing grief, and how people (yes, men too) grieve differently. The fictional Mike certainly seemed to be a good friend and good person, so the loss seemed genuine and deep from Andy’s perspective. Showing the mental health toll that a significant loss brings is important, and feels poignant especially now – the validation that this loss need not be a family member even more so. Andy’s narration takes a casual, readable tone, which made it easy for me to read through the book in a day between commuting and lunch breaks, and I think it helped the reader get a better understanding of Andy because it stuck to only his perspective.

That being said, it seemed like the book didn’t know what it wanted to be – a somewhat-fictionalized memoir, fiction inspired by real events, or fiction entirely. There were several points where I wished there had been a close scene instead of a distant summary of events, and while this improved as the story went on, I almost wished that the entire book consisted of scenes. Granted, that would make this a longer book and would force the author to choose which route to take with the story, but I think ultimately it would have made for a more fulfilling read. As it stands, while I’m glad that the ending [results in what appears to be an open but happy resolution (hide spoiler)], it felt like an attempt to quickly wrap things up, and because the read itself was so fast, I found myself wanting more of just about everything.

If you’re looking for a realistic, honest view of grief – especially from a male perspective centering around a non-family member – this is a good candidate. It’s clear that whatever parts of the book were inspired by Cotto’s actual life have had a large impact on him, and I appreciate that the reader has been given this inside look at the repercussions of such an intense loss.