In Ten Years by Ian Shane: They’re Perfect For Each Other…But Can They Make It Work? Do They Even Want to Try?

In Ten Years by Ian Shane eARC, 261 pg. 2021 Read: July 23-26, 2021

What’s In Ten Years About?

In 2000, two Denver University students meet in such a way that practically guarantees Jack will have one of dullest (and probably worse than just dull) twenty-first birthdays. Liz unintentionally contributed to that but also did everything she could to make up for that. After this, she decides that the two of them are going to be great friends.

After spending a couple of chapters in 2000, we see them again in 2009—and it turns out that Liz’s plan to be great friends worked. They’ve become incredibly close, the Two Musketeers. They’re so close that everyone (including every romantic interest they ever have) assumes they have/are/want to be involved. The idea never really lodges with either of them—and they don’t understand why no one believes them.

We catch up to them in 2018. At some point, they’ve made that pact that you’ve seen in countless sitcoms and movies, if they’re not married by _____ time, they’ll marry each other.* In this case, it’s when Jack turns 40 (he’s a little younger than her, so at that point, they’ll both be 40), and in 2018 that’s a year away.

* The scene where the pact is made is just about perfect, I should add.

Both of them try to treat the pact as a joke—while hoping the other forgot about it. But neither did and despite the preposterous notion—they both kind of take it seriously. They can’t imagine not growing old together, why not?

And then one of them starts to realize that their interest in the pact isn’t because of a drunken promise, pragmatism, or the lack of a better option—but there just might be something right about the whole idea, a reality that’s been before them all along.

Supporting Characters

I’d intended on spending a few paragraphs talking about both Jack and Liz, and after a couple of failed attempts, I realized I couldn’t do either justice without just recapping the whole novel. So, instead, let’s talk about the other characters.

I wasn’t that far into the 2018 part when I made a note about, “Of course they end up together, everyone else they know is horrible.” Which was a little harsh, but essentially true—that’s up to and including their closest friends. Thankfully, that didn’t stay that way—sure, their friends didn’t make a great first impression, but as I got to spend some more time with them, I ended up liking them. They also proved to be good friends to Jack and Liz.

But when it comes to other romantic interests or dalliances? The reader can understand the appeal of (most) of the people they’re interested in—at least initially. But you don’t spend time thinking, “yeah, Person X would really be a good long-term partner for them.” I might have appreciated it more had I actually considered anyone to be a rival for Liz or Jack. But maybe after a few chapters, I’d already ruled out anyone who wasn’t Jack or Liz for the other.

I’m not sure it matters, ultimately. But what Shane did give each character plenty of frogs of various sides and coloring to kiss so that they’d inevitably discover their Prince/Princess.

The supporting characters, from college roommates to overbearing and overly-inquisitive mothers, to Russian hockey players to waitresses in a bar or inappropriate former students are well-written, they all stand out as pretty well-rounded (at least as much as someone who’s only around for a few paragraphs can be).

The Dialogue

I talked about this a little in the Q&A with Shane, and you should read what he said about writing it. My favorite part of this novel was the dialogue. Jack has some great lines when he’s upset or angry with someone, for example.

But what really won me over was the interaction with Jack and Liz—either when they’re being silly about something or when they’re talking about something serious. This is fitting for a contemporary When Harry Met Sally-esque story, Harry and Sally talking to each other is what made viewers fall for the pair, and Shane hits some Ephron-level interchanges with Jack and Liz.

So, what did I think about In Ten Years?

There are a few other highlights that I really don’t have the time or space to get into, I’d recommend checking out the aforementioned Q&A with Shane that I posted yesterday to catch a few other selling points for this book.

The novel is just funny—humor that arises from the situations and the characters’ inherent and reflexive wit and charm. It’s in the way they react to situations, and not because silly and madcap things happen around or to them (well, sure, there’s a little bit of that). Shane’s voice is part of it, too—but mostly it’s because these are smart, funny people who express that.

I can’t get into it without ruining anything, but there’s a chapter in the 2009 portion of the book that is my favorite chapter of 2021—it was so painful, and yet so funny. Shane was careful not to go too far in either direction, which would’ve blunted the impact. Instead, he’s able to portray the emotionally damaging circumstance and let the character’s wit and the ridiculousness of the situation keep it from being maudlin. The rest of the book is just as good, and just as balanced.

In Ten Years ticked just about every box that I can think of as a reader. I both couldn’t wait to find out what happened and didn’t want to get to the end because I was having such a blast. There’s a fresh-feeling take on a tried-and-true story (two, I’d argue), characters I genuinely liked, dialogue that I’d frequently reread a time or to before moving on, and a great mix of emotion and laughs. I wasn’t even 20% through the book when I noticed I was highlighting and making notes too often—had I stopped there, I had more things than I could squeeze into a post. I can only imagine how massive my notes collection would’ve been had I not made a conscious effort to stop. There was just so much that I wanted to remember about this book.

I know that I’m going to be talking about this book in January when I look back on the best of 2021, and I probably won’t be alone.