Reviewing The Seven Year Slip: Banter, Grief, and a Magical Lease I Don’t Trust

Who knew signing a lease could also sign you up for time-travel heartbreak? Because apparently when Ashley Poston writes about apartments, they don’t just come with rent and a quirky landlord—they come with emotional damage. (Looking at you, Clementine’s magical Manhattan apartment.)

Okay, so here’s the deal: this book feels like someone wrapped a rom-com, a grief memoir, and a little magical realism in a blanket burrito and handed it to you with a cup of tea. Clementine is our girl - shout out to the book girlies - grieving her aunt, living in the apartment she inherited, and trying to figure out her life—except sometimes the apartment decides to toss her seven years into the past. Enter Iwan, a dreamy aspiring chef who is basically sunshine in human form.

The vibe? Cozy, wistful, and yes, totally unputdownable. I went in expecting a cute romance and walked away with a side of existential dread about time, loss, and how messy growing up actually is. (Love that for me.) I read it in one sitting while visting my grandparents and spent the rest of the time texting my friends and gushing to my grandma about it.

Think Emily Henry-level banter, but layered with a touch of magical realism and the ache of what-could-have-been. Basically, prepare to be beautifully ruined.

⚠️ Spoiler alert: if you haven’t read yet, stop here and go cry over your TBR pile instead. ⚠️

So let’s talk about the apartment. The way it kept dropping Clementine seven years into the past? Messy. Confusing. Lowkey genius. And honestly, rude—because how dare this magical lease dangle the perfect man (Iwan!) right in front of her, only to remind us all that timing is the biggest villain in fiction and in life.

And listen, this book hit me at the worst (aka best) possible time. I had just gone through a breakup, and calling it a “right person, wrong time” situation doesn’t even scratch the surface. So watching Clementine fall for past Iwan, knowing she couldn’t keep him in her present, cracked me wide open. Poston’s ability to wreck me with one whispered “Lemon” and then twist the knife by reminding us he’s James in her timeline? Cruel. Absolutely savage. Those moments weren’t just words on a page—they were daggers, making me wonder if I’d ever see my own past person again.

But enough about me—let’s talk about Drew and Fiona! Not only did Poston give us an LGBTQ couple without making it their whole storyline (woo for casual normalization!), but she also gave us two people you just know would have you spilling your guts five minutes after meeting them. They’re endlessly supportive—even when they’re completely baffled by Clementine’s late-night adventures and suspicious phone call ghosting. And the best part? They don’t just cheer her on; they also call her out when she’s being inconsistent or making mistakes. Honestly, if that’s not the definition of best-friend goals, I don’t know what is.

So where does that leave us? With a book that’s equal parts cozy and gut-wrenching, hopeful and heartbreaking. The Seven Year Slip isn’t just a romance—it’s a meditation on timing, grief, and the way people shape us even if they can’t stay forever. Poston nailed the messy beauty of loving someone across different versions of yourself, and I’m not sure I’ll ever recover (in the best way).

If you’re into love stories with a twist of magic, friendships that ground you, and writing that makes you laugh right before it makes you sob—this one’s for you. Just maybe don’t read it fresh off a breakup unless you enjoy ugly-crying into your coffee.

Final verdict: 4.75/5 stars. Beautifully devastating, unexpectedly healing, and proof that sometimes the scariest leap is just… moving forward.