Review: Gunk by Saba Sams

Gunk by Saba Sams

Blurb from Goodreads:

An electrifying first novel from one of Britain’s most celebrated young writers, the story of two women circling one another—working side-by-side, sleeping with the same man, inching toward friendship—until an unplanned pregnancy reveals the true nature of their connection.

Jules has been divorced from her ex-husband Leon for five years, but she still works with him at Gunk, the grotty student nightclub he owns in central Brighton. She spends her nights serving shots and watching, from behind the bar, as Leon flirts with students on the dancefloor. In the early hours of the morning, she trudges home to sleep alone. But then Leon hires nineteen-year-old Nim to work the bar with Jules—Nim, with her shaved head and steady pour, her disarming sweetness and sudden distance—and Jules finds herself jolted awake. When Nim discovers she’s pregnant, Jules agrees to help. As the months pass, and the relationship between the two women grows increasingly intimate and perplexing, it emerges that Nim has her own unexpected gifts to give.

Now, alone in her small flat, Jules is holding a baby, just twenty-four-hours old, who still smells of Nim. But no one knows where Nim is, or if she's coming back. What could the future—for Jules, Nim, and this unnamed baby—possibly look like?

Raw, surprising, tender and wise, Gunk is an exhilarating debut novel exploring love and desire, safety and destruction, chaos and control— and family in all its forms.

 This was fine but definitely not as interesting as I was expecting.  It was a bit rambling and told in an odd way where the characters didn't quite feel real.  I was just hoping for something more.  Hope you have better luck!

Gunk comes out next week on March 3, 2026 and you can purchase HERE.  

You're thinking about it wrong, she said. Why does everything have to be transactional?

Because of the world we live in, I said. 

But that's what's made everyone so lonely in the first place, Jules. We give up our time in exchange for money, so we don't have the energy for friendship, don't have space for anyone who isn't directly useful to us. We partner off, we combine incomes, we make babies, we buy a house. We look out for one person only, and they look out for us, until the pressure gets too much, and it all falls apart. It's not working, not for anyone, as far as I can see. 

Are we that person, to each other? 

I don't know why I asked that. The words just flew out. Nim. seemed to get nervous at the suggestion. She gave a small shrug.