A Pretty Picture of Nothing: ‘Every Day’ Looks Good, Says Little

It was back in college, when Book Club Philippines was still quite active, that I found myself a little obsessed with David Levithan. As a writer of many LGBTQ+ novels, he made me feel seen. So when I saw a club member selling a pre-loved copy of his book Every Day, I bought it without hesitation.

Fast forward to today, I still haven’t read that original copy. I always had a gut feeling it would be different from his other books. Not necessarily worse. Just not for me. And, after reading this graphic novel adaptation, I wasn’t wrong.

There was an immediate hit of nostalgia when I opened this. I cannot quite place why, but the art style looked so familiar. It felt like home. The overall tone reminded me of Rainbow Rowell. Soft but emotionally loaded, a little floaty, a little sad. Dion MBD’s illustrations brought so much mood and texture to the story. What struck me most was the grunginess of the art. The visual noise. It captured the book’s atmosphere beautifully. Displacement, impermanence, the strangeness of constantly shifting identity.

So many questions ran through my head as I read. The plot is intriguing. It keeps pulling you into the “why.” Why is this happening? Why any of it? My fiancé can attest to how often I’d stop and rant, trying to figure things out. But none of those questions ever got answered.

The story centres on A. No one knows their gender. Even they do not. From the moment A was born, they’ve never had a permanent body. Every day, they wake up in someone else’s life. The only constant is that the people they become are always the same age as A. And then, like any teenager, A falls in love. And that changes everything.

But here’s the thing. We know almost nothing about A. No origin. No family. No real sense of where this ability comes from or what it costs. That lack of grounding made it hard to connect with them. They started to feel detached. Almost arrogant. Like someone who believes they understand everything simply because they’ve seen so many lives.

Without a backstory, without a tether, there’s nothing to hold on to. The emotional stakes felt weightless. The only reason I kept reading was because I needed to know why A could do what they do. But the book never answers that. It does not even try.

And yet, I love the concept. The reminder that every day matters. That everyone carries invisible struggles. That life is fragile and strange. But a strong concept needs a strong story to hold it. Without depth or grounding, the message floats away.