Book Review: When Dimple Met Rishi – A Missed Opportunity for Representation and Respect
CW: Misogyny, sexism, microaggressions, slut-shaming, bullying, non-graphic sex scene, cliché tropes
I wanted to love this book. Truly. A South Asian lead heading to a summer coding program before Stanford? Sign me up. But When Dimple Met Rishi turned out to be a frustrating, inconsistent read that left me disappointed on so many levels.
Let’s start with the premise. Dimple Shah is laser-focused on her dreams—specifically, winning Insomnia Con, a summer program for aspiring web developers. But her parents have different plans. Behind her back, they agree with family friends to send their son Rishi Patel—an old-school romantic who’s all about family, culture, and arranged marriages—to the same program with the hopes he’ll woo his “future wife.” Naturally, Dimple doesn’t know any of this. And naturally, things go sideways.
Sounds like it could be a great enemies-to-lovers arc. But the story quickly abandons its strongest hook—Dimple’s ambition—and instead spends far too much time trying (and failing) to make her look like a relatable, “strong” female lead. What we get instead is a jumbled mess of harmful tropes, poorly developed side characters, and baffling character inconsistencies.
Dimple: Not Like Other Girls™ to a Fault
The book leans so hard into the “I’m not like other girls” trope it practically trips over itself. Dimple constantly bashes makeup, fashion, and girls who enjoy them. Her rejection of femininity isn’t just personal preference—it’s framed as morally superior. That kind of internalized misogyny is not empowering. Makeup can be self-expression, and there’s nothing inherently shallow or weak about embracing femininity. Yet the narrative keeps reinforcing that “real” girls don’t care about appearances, and those who do are lesser for it.
Here’s a gem of a line that made me audibly cringe:
Dimple punched him in the ribs, lighter than she wanted to, but he still winced.
“Ow. You know, most girls just slap guys playfully on the arm or something. They don’t actually hurt them.”
“Well, maybe you need to expand your idea of how girls behave,” Dimple replied, grinning.
This isn’t witty or subversive. It’s violence being romanticized. He said something playful, and she physically hurt him. And the book treats that moment like a feminist mic drop? No thanks.
Female Characters: All One-Dimensional or Just Flat-Out Disrespectful
Let’s talk about how women are portrayed here. Dimple’s online friend Celia, once they meet in person, is painted as the “bad influence” who pushes Dimple to dress differently and has a questionable track record with men. Then there’s Isabella, who runs with the popular bullies and is reduced to sexist name-calling and vague “slutty” behaviour. It’s exhausting to see femininity constantly equated with superficiality, weakness, or betrayal.
The “Aberzombie” bullies—rich, white, and overtly racist—are written like caricatures. Yes, they deserve to be challenged, and I appreciated Rishi calling out their racism disguised as curiosity (“Your name is… interesting”). But did we really need to lean so hard into the shallow rich kid stereotype? Being wealthy doesn’t automatically mean someone lacks complexity. These characters felt more like props than people.
Even Dimple’s mom isn’t spared. Early on, she pressures Dimple to embrace traditional ideals—marriage, looks, etc.—but she does grow and show understanding. Still, Dimple spends most of the book resenting her. Her attitude toward her parents, especially her mother, bordered on ungrateful and cruel.
The Romance: Insta-Love and Missed Potential
Let’s be honest. Rishi deserves better. Sure, the whole “future arranged marriage surprise” thing is outdated and weirdly manipulative. But at least he’s respectful, emotionally mature, and deeply proud of his roots. He doesn’t shame his culture or religion—he celebrates it. Dimple, on the other hand, seems to reject hers outright, often in harsh and dismissive ways.
Their romance progresses quickly—too quickly. Six weeks in and they’re exchanging “I love yous”? After a few bonding scenes, some awkward tension, and barely any real insight into their emotional connection? It felt rushed and underdeveloped. Where’s the build-up? Where’s the chemistry?
Also, what happened to the coding competition? The app they’re supposed to be working on? Dimple’s dreams? The plot completely forgets about Insomnia Con halfway through. For a girl who’s supposed to be driven and focused, we barely get to see her do anything in that realm. It’s like her ambition was just a personality prop to make her look serious until the romance took over.
Final Thoughts
The only two things keeping this book from a 1-star rating are:
- Diversity – It’s rare to see Indian protagonists in YA, and the cultural references, Hindi phrases, and bits of tradition sprinkled throughout were lovely touches.
- Rishi’s portrayal of culture – He’s respectful, curious, and finds pride in his background. I appreciated that deeply.
But diverse representation isn’t enough when it’s built on a foundation of harmful tropes, lacklustre writing, and shallow characters. This book had the chance to say something meaningful about identity, culture, and the tension between tradition and individuality. Instead, it defaulted to cliché YA drama and a protagonist who steps on others just to prove she’s “different.”
If you thought When Dimple Met Rishi was going to be a breath of fresh air in the YA landscape, it’s not. It’s the same tired story with a different cast—and that’s not good enough anymore.
Rating: ★★☆☆☆
