Verdict: A tender, genuinely rare butch/butch YA love story with a found family readers adore and a final act that leaves people in tears, held back by a disorienting first half and an ending that is bittersweet rather than a romance HEA.
Best for: Readers who want two butch girls written with real softness, a messy queer friend group, and quiet, character-driven speculative fiction, and who can forgive a bumpy opening and accept an ending that costs something.
Heat level: ★☆☆☆☆ (1/5 — YA, sweet and understated; not catalogued by romance.io)
Rating: ★★★★☆ (3.8/5 — a 3.93 Goodreads average across 4,798 ratings and a Booklist star, pulled down by a first half many readers found confusing)
Tropes: Butch/butch, slow burn, hostility to love, found family, grief and absent parents, space and sacrifice, sibling caretaker heroine, queer friend group, near-future setting, bittersweet ending.
The Weight of the Stars by K. Ancrum is a standalone young adult novel published by Imprint, a Macmillan children’s imprint, in 2019 — a slow-burn contemporary lesbian romance with one foot in near-future science fiction — and its collision is between Ryann Bird, a tall butch girl from a trailer park who takes in every stray she meets, and Alexandria, a furious soft-butch loner whose astronaut mother left Earth on a one-way mission the year she was born.
It holds a 3.93 average across 4,798 Goodreads ratings, a 3.96 on StoryGraph, and a trade record most sapphic books never get: a starred review from Booklist, plus School Library Journal, Kirkus and BCCB coverage. Ancrum has said plainly that she wrote it as a love story between two butch girls, softer than anyone would expect. The reviews agree on the heart and split sharply on the first half and the ending. Both halves of that split are worth understanding before you start.
What Is The Weight of the Stars About?
The Weight of the Stars is shelved as YA contemporary and read as quiet science fiction. The world is ours, a few years sideways: a private space program sends young women on one-way voyages to the edge of the solar system, and the families left behind live with it. That premise matters less as plot than as pressure. It is a book about what people owe the ones they love, and what they are allowed to want for themselves — which means it is closer to character-driven literary fiction than to a rom-com, and 64% of StoryGraph readers call it character-driven.
Ryann has given up on herself. She is raising her nephew with her brother, skipping class, fighting, and parenting a friend group of misfits because no one parented her. Alexandria assumes everyone is an enemy, and for a while Ryann’s crowd gives her reason to. The book stays close to Ryann, broken into short, time-stamped sections, with the mother’s transmissions threaded through. It buys atmosphere and costs early clarity.
What Makes This Butch/Butch YA Romance Work
- Two butch leads, written soft: Ancrum calls Ryann butch and Alexandria soft butch, and readers notice. One Goodreads reviewer’s entire response is a delighted shout about butch lesbians, space and softness. The romance is still one of the few YA books built on that pairing.
- The found family: The friend group is the most consistently praised element. StoryGraph readers call the characters loveable at 88% and the cast diverse at 97%, and at least two reviewers rank it among their favourite friend groups in fiction.
- The slow burn: One reviewer says the romance never feels like instalove — closer to instahate, if anything — and BCCB describes it as sweetly, devastatingly understated.
- The final act: Even reviewers who struggled early say the last chapters are where the book comes fully alive. School Library Journal predicts readers will remember the ending long after.
- Space as grief, not spectacle: The slow burn runs alongside the mother’s recorded messages, and readers keep describing the space material as existential rather than technical — quiet sci-fi, in one reviewer’s phrase.
Book Synopsis
Ryann Bird once wanted the stars more than anything. Now she wants to get through senior year. Her parents are gone, her brother is fragile, his baby needs looking after, and a career in space is a joke for a girl from the wrong side of town. So she channels everything into the people around her: a ragged pack of friends who have been failed by someone, and who have decided to belong to each other instead.
Alexandria does not want to belong to anyone. She is new, sharp-tongued and openly contemptuous of Ryann’s crowd, and when the two groups collide it goes badly — badly enough that Alexandria ends up hurt and Ryann ends up responsible. Guilt puts Ryann at Alexandria’s door. What she finds there is a girl who climbs onto her roof every night with a radio, listening for a signal from a mother who volunteered for a one-way trip into deep space before Alexandria could know her.
With Alexandria’s arm in a cast, someone has to lift her up there. Ryann does, night after night, and the hostility slowly softens into friendship and then into something neither of them expected to be allowed. But the space program that took Alexandria’s mother is still out there recruiting, and it has not finished with either girl. The question at the centre of the book is what loving someone asks of you — and whether the answer is staying, or letting go.
My Review
The best thing here is the premise and how Ancrum uses it. A one-way mission is a perfect engine for a story about absent parents, because it makes abandonment and heroism the same act. Alexandria’s whole life is shaped by a mother the world calls brave, and the book lets her be furious about that without making her wrong.
The second strength is the people. Ryann is a butch heroine written as a caretaker — tall, scarred, quick to fight, and constantly holding everyone else up — and the book treats that as both her gift and her wound. The friend group around her, with its polyamorous parents, queer kids and a prominent Sikh character, is why so many readers fell for the book, and 80% of StoryGraph readers say the characters develop. When the romance arrives, it is slow and physical in the gentlest sense: lifting someone onto a roof, sitting in the dark with a radio.
Where it struggles is the first half, and this is the dominant complaint rather than a stray one. Readers repeatedly say the opening is confusing, that it took a hundred pages or more to understand where the story was going, and that Ryann’s friends read as bullies — the early hostility toward Alexandria goes further than many readers can easily forgive. Secondary characters blur together for some, trauma backstories are gestured at rather than explored, and one reviewer notes an on-page sexual assault that is never picked up again. The cameos from Ancrum’s debut, The Wicker King, delight its fans and distract some other readers.
One expectation to reset: the cover and the blurb suggest science fiction, and the space program is real, but most of the book is a moody coming-of-age story on the ground. At least one reader DNF’d at 205 pages for exactly that reason. And this is not a romance with a conventional HEA. If you came for rockets, calibrate; if you came for two butch girls learning to be gentle with each other, you are in the right place.
My honest note: A book whose final act is better than its first two, and whose best moments are among the tenderest in sapphic YA. If a confusing opening or a bittersweet ending ruins a book for you, go in warned. If you can wait for it, the last chapters earn every one of the tears readers report.
| Element | In The Weight of the Stars |
|---|---|
| Central relationship | Ryann Bird & Alexandria — butch caretaker and soft-butch loner, hostility to love |
| Core tropes | Butch/butch, slow burn, found family, absent parent, grief, space and sacrifice |
| Setting | A near-future town and its high school, in a world where a private program sends young women on one-way space missions |
| Heat level | 1/5 — YA, understated romance, nothing explicit reported |
| Series | Standalone; shares adult cameos with The Wicker King, which you do not need to read first |
| Content notes | Sexual assault, bullying and physical injury, parental abandonment, grief and a recounted parent’s death, underage drinking and drug use, classism |
How Spicy Is The Weight of the Stars?
A 1/5. romance.io has no entry for it, which is normal for young adult fiction — the book is not being catalogued as adult romance at all. The number comes from two places: Kirkus and Amazon list it for ages 14 to 18, and reader and trade reviews describe the romance as slow and understated, with BCCB using that exact word. Nobody reports anything explicit.
The element worth knowing in advance is not romantic: School Library Journal recommends it for high school libraries specifically because of a sexual assault and references to underage drinking and drug use, and several readers flag the bullying. No reviewer I found flags anything on the page beyond those. For YA sapphic romance at the same heat level, She Drives Me Crazy and The Henna Wars sit in the same band.
Who Should Read This Book?
You’ll likely love it if: you have been looking for butch/butch romance written with real tenderness, you love a found family of damaged kids who choose each other, you like science fiction that is quiet and existential rather than technical, and you are happy to cry at the end of a book.
You may want to skip it if: you need a sealed happily-ever-after, you want plenty of space-program plot rather than coming-of-age, you struggle with fragmented, time-stamped storytelling in a book’s first half, or bullying between future friends is hard for you to get past.
In short: a rare, gentle butch/butch love story that asks for patience up front and pays it back with one of the most talked-about endings in sapphic YA.
What Readers Are Actually Saying (September 2026)
There is no new viral moment behind this book in 2026. What it has is a durable reputation. It arrived in 2019 with a Booklist starred review, SLJ, Kirkus and BCCB coverage and a blurb from Seanan McGuire calling it a masterpiece, and it has kept accumulating since: 4,798 Goodreads ratings, 2,753 on StoryGraph. The Goodreads spread is healthy — 69% of ratings are four or five stars, only 7% are one or two — and StoryGraph shows a low 4% did-not-finish rate. Much of its readership arrives through Ancrum herself: many reviews open with The Wicker King, and a book club pick and author-sent ARCs show up repeatedly. The audiobook is a second route in. Joniece Abbott-Pratt narrates the Tantor Audio edition, which runs 6 hours 54 minutes; The Lesbian Review found her handling of the large cast largely effortless, with a few flat passages.
Prefer audio? Listen to The Weight of the Stars on Libro.fm — the audiobook shop that supports independent bookstores.
Why readers love it (according to the discourse): The friend group first — “found family” is the recurring phrase, and one StoryGraph reviewer rated it five stars for the relationships alone while admitting to not loving the plot. Then the prose, called poetic and lyrical again and again. Then crying, which comes up so consistently it is practically a rating — readers describe sobbing at 1am, going through tissues, and naming the last twenty pages a favourite read of the year. StoryGraph’s crowd tags it emotional (83%) and hopeful (61%). The diverse cast — Black lesbian leads, a poly family, queer side characters — is praised almost everywhere.
What readers argue about and complain about: The first half, above everything. “Confusing” is the word, from two- and three-star reviewers especially, and even some five-star readers admit they weren’t sure where the book was going at first; one critical reviewer was still lost at page 120. Second, the bullying — Ryann’s crew throwing rocks at Alexandria’s house, and the ease with which everyone moves past it, is the thing critical reviewers find hardest to accept. Third, characterisation beyond the leads: some readers could not tell the friends’ voices apart, and one reviewer says the short, staccato chapters kept them from getting close to anyone. Then the genuine split: the ending. Many reviewers call it beautiful, raw and exactly right; a smaller, loud group finds it baffling, questions why everyone encourages the choice at its centre, and dislikes the time skips that pass over its biggest moment. One one-star reviewer says the final hundred pages ruined the book for them.
The standalone question worth asking first: The Weight of the Stars stands alone. Three characters from The Wicker King appear as adults, which pleases its readers, but nothing depends on it. If you finish wanting more Ancrum, the numbers point clearly: The Corruption of Hollis Brown is her highest-rated book at 4.21, Icarus sits at 4.00 across nearly 10,000 ratings, The Wicker King at 3.97 across 13,459, while Darling trails at 3.62. The butch/butch romance, though, is only here.
Frequently Asked Questions
Is The Weight of the Stars a butch/butch romance?
Yes. K. Ancrum describes Ryann as butch and Alexandria as soft butch, and says she wrote it deliberately as a love story between two butch girls. Reviewers such as BMP Voices describe both leads as butch too.
Does The Weight of the Stars have a happy ending?
Not a conventional one. The ending separates Ryann and Alexandria physically — one of them takes a one-way path off Earth — and closes on love and hope rather than a reunion on the page. The Lesbian Review calls it a little sad but hopeful, and other reviewers describe being dazzled and heartbroken at once.
How spicy is The Weight of the Stars?
A 1/5. It is a YA novel for ages 14 to 18, romance.io does not list it, and reviewers describe the romance as understated. There is no explicit content.
Do I need to read The Wicker King first?
No. Characters from The Wicker King appear as adults in supporting roles, but the story stands entirely on its own.
Is there an audiobook?
Yes. Joniece Abbott-Pratt narrates the Tantor Audio edition, which runs 6 hours 54 minutes and is available on Libro.fm.
If You Loved The Weight of the Stars, Read These Next
For another YA sapphic novel with a queer found family and a speculative edge, The Lost Coast is the closest match in mood. If what moved you was butch identity handled with seriousness and care in a young adult book, Last Night at the Telegraph Club brings butch culture into a 1950s coming-of-age. And for adult readers who want the full weight of butch interiority, Stone Butch Blues is the essential, far heavier companion.
For more in this register, browse our butch/butch lesbian romance guide or the full Book Reviews collection.
The Bottom Line
The Weight of the Stars sets out to write the softest possible love story about two butch girls and a mother lost to space. The found family is beloved, the romance is gentle and earned, and the final act is devastating in the way readers go looking for. It also opens in confusion, asks you to forgive a lot of early cruelty, and ends in a place that is bittersweet rather than happily-ever-after. If you want butch/butch tenderness and can wait for the book to find itself, it is worth every page. Check The Weight of the Stars on Amazon →
The Eikna Overall Ranking
On the Eikna scale, The Weight of the Stars ranks as a rare, trade-acclaimed butch/butch YA novel — tender and emotionally devastating, held back by a disorienting first half and a divisive ending, and best approached for the found family and the final act rather than for space adventure or a romance HEA.
The Evidence Scorecard
Overall ★★★★☆ 3.8/5
- ✓ 3.93 average across 4,798 Goodreads ratings
- ✓ Starred review from Booklist
- ✓ 4% did-not-finish rate on StoryGraph
- ✓ First half widely called confusing
Romance ★★★★☆ 3.8/5
- ✓ Rare butch/butch pairing, author-confirmed
- ✓ Slow burn, not instalove, per readers
- ✓ BCCB calls it devastatingly understated
- ✓ Early bullying makes the turn hard for some
Characters ★★★★☆ 4.1/5
- ✓ 88% call the characters loveable on StoryGraph
- ✓ 97% say the cast is diverse
- ✓ Found family the most-praised element
- ✓ Side characters blur for some readers
Writing ★★★★☆ 3.8/5
- ✓ Prose repeatedly called poetic and lyrical
- ✓ Short, time-stamped chapters read fast
- ✓ Final chapters praised even by critics
- ✓ Fragmented opening loses some readers
Emotional Impact ★★★★☆ 4.4/5
- ✓ 83% of StoryGraph readers tag it emotional
- ✓ Crying the most common reader reaction
- ✓ SLJ says the ending lingers
- ✓ Sexual assault subplot left unaddressed
Heat Level ★☆☆☆☆ 1/5
- ✓ YA, ages 14 to 18 per Kirkus and Amazon
- ✓ No romance.io entry
- ✓ Reviewers describe the romance as understated
- ✓ Mature themes despite the low heat
Ending ★★★☆☆ 3.4/5
- ✓ Many reviewers call it beautiful and right
- ✓ Hopeful, not tragic, in tone
- ✓ Standalone, no cliffhanger
- ✓ No conventional HEA; a loud minority objects
Re-read Value ★★★★☆ 3.8/5
- ✓ Several readers name it a favourite
- ✓ Audiobook runs under seven hours
- ✓ Wicker King fans return for the cameos
- ✓ Emotional weight discourages a quick return
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