Queenie’s ticking biological clock drives her chaotic misadventures in this sage and funny follow-up
A gynaecological examination serves as an apt metaphor for the kind of painful self-examination at which Queenie Jenkins excels. The protagonist of Candice Carty-Williams’s 2019 debut novel began that story with a medical appointment for a mysterious ailment that was ultimately revealed to be a miscarriage. The sequel, Queenie Is Working on It, resumes the narrative eight years later, with the now 33-year-old Queenie once again on the examination table, this time for a fertility checkup.
“I didn’t realise they did condoms for anything other than … penises,”Queenie remarks awkwardly as the unsmiling doctor inserts a probe. While life has changed, in many respects, Queenie remains much the same.
Carty-Williams’s first novel, which portrayed a stumbling Jamaican-British woman living in London and navigating romantic turmoil alongside a mental health crisis, was a breakout bestseller. Reassuringly, her sharp ear for female friendships—the deep affection, steadfast solidarity, and ribald humour—persists, as does her nuanced understanding of how race permeates the everyday experiences of Black women. These qualities made Queenie feel unique and compelling in 2019, and she continues to do so in 2026, although readers’ tolerance for her ongoing misadventures may vary.
As the title suggests, Queenie remains a work in progress. The new Queenie has left her demoralising magazine job for a position at a Black-owned social media platform. This role brings her undercover to the fertility clinic, where she is researching Black women’s experiences with IVF treatment. When test results indicate low chances of natural conception, Queenie spirals and must confront the disorder in her love life.
Carty-Williams is astute and humorous in depicting Queenie’s misconceptions about her various lovers, particularly the cheerfully non-committal Vin, who works for Transport for London. Sex with him is described as
“some sort of erotic fairground ride where the end goal was both to have a stomach-dropping orgasm and also to finish breathless and thank God that everything is in one piece at the end”.Although Queenie is not always aware of the irony, frequently sending sexy selfies to the indifferent Vin, her pragmatic friends are there to offer guidance. Friends like Kyazike—who nicknames Vin “TfL” because
“they don’t deserve government names til they prove themselves worthy”—are vividly portrayed, wise and sarcastic. Queenie’s cluelessness can be frustrating at times. Fortunately, when she contemplates sex with a personal trainer named Pharoah, Kyazike advises her,
“fucking a PT is never smart. That’s community dick, sister.”
However, Queenie’s sexual vulnerability is a significant theme that continues in this sequel, where her erotic encounters with men represent futile attempts to secure emotional connection. For Queenie, sex is psychological—a means by which she tries, often unsuccessfully, to repair the aspects of her life that are unraveling. Carty-Williams writes with clear-eyed candour, pragmatic and technical rather than titillating. When Queenie buys Vin a vibrating penis ring, he responds by shaking his head:
“Nah, babes … I’m not into all that AI shit.”
Yet, as the fertility doctor reminds Queenie,
“the clock is ticking”.At a hen party, Queenie discreetly takes notes on her phone during a discussion about anovulation and basal temperature testing.
“Why didn’t we learn this stuff in school?”she wonders.
“Why was I having to find out the basics of conception at a hen party when I was 33?”This is a pointed question, posed on behalf of a generation of women whose reproductive choices have been shaped by financial insecurity and career considerations. Queenie is not alone in feeling underinformed and anxious about her reproductive future.
When Queenie lies to sexual partners about contraception in hopes of conceiving, Kyazike admonishes her:
“bringing a Black baby into the world to be intentionally raised by a single parent feels wrong, sis. It don’t sit well with me at all.”This illustrates the thoughtful manner in which Carty-Williams channels the racial politics embedded in everyday life. It is not an overtly polemical statement but rather a reflection of Kyazike’s worldview. The experience of race is a condition of Queenie’s existence but never the defining aspect of her identity. Carty-Williams consistently conveys this with a deft, light touch. At one point, Queenie complains,
“Please. Not the strong Black woman thing,”rolling her eyes.
“We left it behind in 2020 when Black lives mattered. We’ve moved on to soft life now, or whatever the girls on TikTok are saying the latest personal political standpoint is.”Whatever the case, Queenie will likely continue to be a work in progress in the next novel.
