How I Live Now by Meg Rosoff Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“Things Happen and once they start happening you pretty much just to hold on for dear life and see where they drop you when they stop.”- How I Live Now, Meg Rosoff

“Every war has turning points and every person too.”

Fifteen-year-old Daisy is sent from Manhattan to England to visit her aunt and cousins she’s never met: three boys near her age, and their little sister. Her aunt goes away on business soon after Daisy arrives. The next day bombs go off as London is attacked and occupied by an unnamed enemy.

As power fails, and systems fail, the farm becomes more isolated. Despite the war, it’s a kind of Eden, with no adults in charge and no rules, a place where Daisy’s uncanny bond with her cousins grows into something rare and extraordinary.

But the war is everywhere, and Daisy and her cousins must lead each other into a world that is unknown in the scariest, most elemental way. 

Meg Rosoff lives in the same corner of my mind that several other American expat British writers live in. You'd be surprised how many there are, including Patrick Ness and Elizabeth Wein. My vague, sort of interest in her writing started when my old high school librarian mentioned that she was one of his favorite authors, and was recently renewed after reading Life: An Exploded Diagram, when I discovered while researching Mal Peet that she finished one of his books for him, kind of like how Patrick Ness wrote A Monster Calls. 

Oddly, for a tiny little book it took me forever to read. Kind of like how it took me forever to read On the Jellicoe Road. I had such a hard time getting into it that I was ready to dnf it and cut my losses, but I'm in a slump and don't want to admit it by not finishing books. 

Her writing reminds me of Elizabeth Wein's, likely because Wein has clearly been heavily influenced by her. As I've gotten older I've found myself growing out of that style of writing. Not necessarily stream-of-consciousness, per se, it can be done very well- after all, I consider the Modernists some of the best writers and they were the ones to start that type of narrative. No, I'm talking about the ALL CAPS, Certain Things Capitalized to Sound Quirky, crossed out words, and more. I mean, sure, I could forgive it if the book was meant to be written like a journal entry, but when it's presented as a typical novel, it grates on me. Kind of like how The Pearl Thief grated on me, come to think of it. I think authors maybe do things like that because it gives their characters the illusion of having a personality- if they write with all caps and no quotation marks when someone is speaking and capitalize things to make them sound like official titles, then the main character is automatically Spunky and Lovably Rebellious. 

Rosoff probably did this to make Daisy endearing, maybe because she realized that Daisy had to have some endearing, relatable qualities. Because Daisy's a pretty shitty human. She's anorexic (I'll come back to the poor treatment of her anorexia later) for attention, she hates people without any real reason to, like her stepmother, she's shitty to her father, and her lack of detachment as to what's going on makes me think of sociopaths. I mean, I get having a hard time emphasizing about an attack that happened a half a world away, but when you live in England, a small country, and the attack was in London, you still have to feel something for the people that died instead of dismissing it. I like to think I'm not alone in thinking this, and I don't think I am evidenced by all the people who reached out to Paris or Manchester or Orlando. Her detachment doesn't make her seem relatable, the way Rosoff probably intended for her to seem, it makes her seem cold, unfeeling. Again, sociopathic. 

The love story in this was kind of horrible. It wasn't that I was particularly bothered by cousin-cousin incest, since I knew that it would be about this and if I was extremely against that stuff being in fiction I wouldn't have picked this up in the first place. Besides, after enjoying Forbidden as much as I did I don't think I could get on a soap box about it, and frankly anyone who loves history as much as I do can't be that bothered by cousins kissing. 

No, my problem with Daisy and Edmond's relationship more had to do with the fact it was chemistry-less. I felt nothing for either of them, because they were just kind of smashed together. I mean, she mentioned feeling a few feelings, Edmond could read her mind, and then they kissed and I guess started screwing, but honestly they could have been playing Monopoly for all I knew. Sure, there were some references to how much they loved each other and snarky references on her part to Underage Sex, but that's all I got from their relationship. 

In fact, I had a hard time caring about anyone. I think that had something to do with Daisy's horrible narrative, how focused she was on herself, so much so I couldn't connect with Piper or Edmond or Isaac or Osbert, and I couldn't feel bad about Aunt Penn because I didn't know her very well. 

Look, okay, detachment can work really well in some cases. In fact, I thought about The Road a lot while reading this book. I wonder if Rosoff read The Road and decided she wanted to do a YA version of that book, but, needless to say, The Road blows her out of the water. In that book, the detached narrative worked well in showing how people can become so used to a horrible situation that atrocities don't phase them. In this book, I can't even argue for that interpretation because she wrote that way right from the very beginning, so Daisy came off as unfeeling instead of jaded like the Man in The Road.

Daisy's anorexia was as horribly done as the love story. It's treated casually, dismissed, and never really brought up. It's not a flaw, it's just something about her. This is approach is fine when it comes to a disability, like when a character is in a wheelchair or has one arm, but not with a serious mental illness like anorexia, that does in fact kill people. She makes remarks about how she likes doing it for attention, how she's getting fat and should start losing again, and how much she hates shrinks, and it seems like we should cheer her on for it, because of how endearing she makes it sound instead of serious. It just left a bad taste in my mouth.

With all this being said, How I Live Now had a really great idea behind it. I've always been fascinated by the effect war has on the everyman, especially total war like in both world wars. Some of my favorite WWII books focus on that, like My Family For the War, or City of Thieves or even the bits in The Diary of a Young Girl when Frank writes about rations and the black market. I was interested to see how Rosoff takes the idea and turns it into a contemporary seeming book, and I think she did it mostly successfully. She created a timeless story, which I always love. I mean, sure, there were references to gas cars and cell phones and email, but the first has been around for years now and the second and third aren't going away anytime soon, so I could see this book sticking around for a long time.

It also had a vague 1940s feel, which I did like, since I have a soft spot for the 40s- when I first started getting into YA historical fiction all I wanted to read about was WWII era fiction.

So, do I recommend this book? If you love Elizabeth Wein, go for it. In this book's credit, it does have some very pretty writing and I suppose to the right person endearing characters, but if you're annoyed by any of the stuff above, I wouldn't go for this book. Read The Road instead.

4.5 out of 10

City of Light, City of Poison by Holly Tucker Review

Appointed to conquer the “crime capital of the world,” the first police chief of Paris faces an epidemic of murder in the late 1600s. Assigned by Louis XIV, Nicolas de La Reynie begins by clearing the streets of filth and installing lanterns throughout Paris, turning it into the City of Light.

The fearless La Reynie pursues criminals through the labyrinthine neighborhoods of the city. He unearths a tightly knit cabal of poisoners, witches, and renegade priests. As he exposes their unholy work, he soon learns that no one is safe from black magic—not even the Sun King. In a world where a royal glance can turn success into disgrace, the distance between the quietly back-stabbing world of the king’s court and the criminal underground proves disturbingly short. Nobles settle scores by employing witches to craft poisons and by hiring priests to perform dark rituals in Paris’s most illustrious churches and cathedrals.

As La Reynie continues his investigations, he is haunted by a single question: Could Louis’s mistresses could be involved in such nefarious plots? The pragmatic and principled La Reynie must decide just how far he will go to protect his king.

From secret courtrooms to torture chambers, City of Light, City of Poison is a gripping true-crime tale of deception and murder. Based on thousands of pages of court transcripts and La Reynie’s compulsive note-taking, as well as on letters and diaries, Tucker’s riveting narrative makes the fascinating, real-life characters breathe on the page.

This has been the year of mediocre nonfiction. None of the books I read were real standouts, despite the fact I did like most of them. But this book. This is the book I wished The Poisoner's Handbook was. I mean, I was happy enough with The Poisoner's Handbook as is, but I loved this one. It reminded me of the way Erik Larsen (of The Devil in the White City fame) writes.

I admit, though, when I first started the parts about Louis XIV's mistresses, I was a bit skeptical. For one thing, this book was not advertised as being about that, and didn't know how well Holly Tucker was going to connect it with the main story. While the connection was, in fact, tenuous, I was still fascinated by the dramatic stories about Louis XIV's mistresses. I felt like I was watching some trashy reality TV show, but a 100 times better because it's about one of the most powerful rulers in French history. I get that some people might be bored by these parts, but I personally really loved them.

And besides, the actual poison stuff was extremely easy to read, as well as the bits about the reform of Paris and the Parisian prison system. It was especially interesting to read about how coroners, often just surgeons or doctors back then, no special training was required to become one, were able to tell how people died just by basic scientific intuition. There were no fancy tests done to tell whether someone died of arsenic or snake venom, instead, they had to compare the effects of that specific poison to an already deceased confirmed poisoned body and tell by that. I always liked reading how people make do with what they have, especially in the days before technology.

And I ended up really liking Nicolas de la Reynie as a main character. He was the kind of guy you'd want to root for in detective novels, someone whose relentless pursual of the truth is admirable. He was truly one of a kind for his time period, especially since he didn't let class stand in the way of justice. While it is true that many of the noblewomen involved in the poison cases he studied did have more cushy prison lives than the women in the Third Estate who were arrested for the same crimes, and some of them got off on lighter sentences, he didn't wave their cases under the rug, and it's entirely likely he was frustrated by the inability of the Arsenal judges to see that a noblewoman of high birth could have committed such heinous crimes. And the cushy prison existence these women led was a matter of necessity, he knew that if he treated them cruelly then he would get nowhere and even perhaps be forced out of his job. De la Reynie really was one of the first in believing that justice is blind.

And oddly, I did still really like certain parts I probably would have hated if they were in a fictional book. For instance, I thought Mary-Anne Mancini was freaking bad-ass, to say the least. Her responses to the judges and her showing up with her husband in one hand and her boy-toy nephew in the other cracked me up. I wouldn't mind reading a book on her, and perhaps the rest of the Mancinis as well.

While reading I couldn't help but think of The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue, probably because both books took place roughly around the same time and some of the subject matter reminded me of it. And frankly, this book is what The Gentleman's Guide should have been like. It didn't need any strange Marina-esque plot or pirates or highwaymen to be interesting. In fact, I was actually a lot more entertained by this work of pure nonfiction than I was by that work of what is advertised as YA fluff fiction. The juicy stuff in here- the sex, the torture (prison torture before execution, not sex torture), the poison- is all stuff that could have been included in The Gentleman's Guide- well, maybe not the torture, but the sex and poison could have been wonderful. Hell, maybe Lee should have dropped the odd alchemy plot and gone with one based on the Affaire des Poisons. I mean, sure, she would have had to push it up a few decades from the late 1670s, early 1680s to the 1720s, but I could have forgiven that if it was based in something as interesting and little known to the general public as this instead of her going with basic early 18th century pop history- alchemy, pirates, Scientific Revolution/Enlightenment, Spain vs France (well, really England by proxy vs France). 

After reading this book I feel the sudden craving to read nonfiction. It happens sometimes, usually after I've finished a really good one. This is my favorite type of nonfiction to read- true, historical crime. Think the stuff Erik Larsen usually writes. The best of both worlds to me, especially since lately I've been unenthused with regular true crime nonfiction. I mean, when the most popular true crime book out now is about a string of arsons that happened to abandoned places nobody cares about with the main message being roughly the same thing that's been said over and over again, you have to wonder about the future of the genre. That being said, I am waiting for my library to get a copy of Killers of the Flower Moon, since I've been vaguely interested in that ever since it came out in April. Still, I'm actually in the mood to read, something I honestly haven't felt at all this month.

9 out of 10

Words in Deep Blue by Cath Crowley Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“We are the books we read and the things we love.”- Words in Deep Blue, Cath Crowley

Love lives between the lines.

Years ago, Rachel had a crush on Henry Jones. The day before she moved away, she tucked a love letter into his favorite book in his family’s bookshop. She waited. But Henry never came. 

Now Rachel has returned to the city—and to the bookshop—to work alongside the boy she’d rather not see, if at all possible, for the rest of her life. But Rachel needs the distraction, and the escape. Her brother drowned months ago, and she can’t feel anything anymore. She can’t see her future.

Henry’s future isn’t looking too promising, either. His girlfriend dumped him. The bookstore is slipping away. And his family is breaking apart.

As Henry and Rachel work side by side—surrounded by books, watching love stories unfold, exchanging letters between the pages—they find hope in each other. Because life may be uncontrollable, even unbearable sometimes. But it’s possible that words, and love, and second chances are enough.

Sometimes science isn't enough. Sometimes you need the poets.

Have you ever fallen in love with a book despite yourself? That's how I feel with Cath Crowley's books. I love them irrationally. I love them despite their flaws, despite the fact that she writes the kind of books I would have never even considered picking up. Romantic contemporaries that feel like summer. In fact, if I hadn't loved Graffiti Moon with my whole heart, I wouldn't have ever even considered picking up Words in Deep Blue. For one thing, this book felt more romance heavy than Graffiti Moon. And yet, I loved them both the same way.

The main reason why can be summed up in one word- (the) writing. Cath Crowley's writing does something to me. There's so much emotion behind it that I feel like laughing when she wants me to laugh and crying when she wants me to cry. And yet I don't feel manipulated by it. I don't know how to describe it, but sometimes, when authors write things that sound beautiful, I can't help but imagine them in their little office, typing out that beautiful sentence and then mentally patting themselves on the back for it. But not with her. I get the impression that her words are genuine. In a lot of ways, her writing reminds me of Markus Zusak's in that he can do the same thing to me. She is the only writer thus far whose musing on the "universe" had the intended emotional effect on me.

I also loved the way Crowley writes about literature. She writes about the same way she writes about art in Graffiti Moon. Even though I didn't like some of the writers she mentioned- I hate John Green, for instance- I loved how she found something beautiful in that kind of writing. It was like how in Graffiti Moon, she managed to find something beautiful in Rothko's work, which I think is pretentious bullshit. But I was able to understand why she would appreciate it. Besides, for every one author she mentioned I didn't like, she mentioned several that I adore- TS Eliot, F Scott Fitzgerald, Charles Bukowski, Kurt Vonnegut, Cormac McCarthy, Pablo Neruda, I'm probably missing one. I was kind of surprised, though, that there was no reference to cummings. I would have thought his abstract writing and swoon-worthy language would have been perfect for Crowley.

I also liked all the characters. I wanted Rachel and Henry to end up together. I wanted Lola to convince Hiroko to stay (though I knew she wouldn't). I liked George and Martin, not necessarily together, but I was fine with them as friends. Heck, I even liked both Rachel and George individually. Normally I would have hated them- Rachel the science-y heroine I usually can't relate to at all and George the emo outcast who the author usually tries painfully hard to write. But for some reason, I liked them all and wanted everything to work out instead of being annoyed by everything working out like I usually am.

I will say this, though, there is a major, major flaw in this book that is the only thing that gives me serious reservations about loving this book. And it's a technical flaw, not a personal opinion. I cannot tell Henry's narrative from Rachel's. The two had the exact same voice. Which I wasn't expecting, because I don't remember having that same problem in Graffiti Moon yet it also had alternating points of view. Though maybe it did and I just ignored it? I also felt like the way she enjoys overlapping events between POVs so she can show how both parties think of the same event was less effective here than in Graffiti Moon, because, again, they felt so similar. Perhaps alternating first person POVs maybe wasn't the best decision here- I would have perhaps chosen third person. So, in the interest of not looking like a hypocrite because if I had liked this book less I probably would have given it a lower score because I find something like that to be a big deal. 

But yet again, the emotion connection I formed with this book trumped any flaw, even a major one. There's something about Cath Crowley that I find so easy for me to love. I love her main characters, I love the way she writes couples, I love everything about her sweet romances with so much more going on than romance. At the moment, she is my Zusak substitute- while I still prefer Zusak, he hasn't written much at the moment so I need Cath Crowley to fill the void in my life desperate for some poetically written, hard hitting, emotional contemporaries.

9 out of 10

The Dead Inside by Cyndy Elter Review

I never was a badass. Or a slut, a junkie, a stoner, like they told me I was. I was just a kid looking for something good, something that felt like love. I was a wannabe in a Levi's jean jacket. Anybody could see that. Except my mother. And the professionals at Straight.

From the outside, Straight Inc. was a drug rehab. But on the inside it was...well, it was something else.

All Cyndy wanted was to be loved and accepted. By age fourteen, she had escaped from her violent home, only to be reported as a runaway and sent to a "drug rehabilitation" facility that changed her world.

To the public, Straight Inc. was a place of recovery. But behind closed doors, the program used bizarre and intimidating methods to "treat" its patients. In her raw and fearless memoir, Cyndy Etler recounts her sixteen months in the living nightmare that Straight Inc. considered "healing."

Fun fact, I found this book in the local library thinking it was fiction, because it's in the fiction section. It's not. It's a memoir. But it is written like a fiction novel which makes me think fiction is in this author's future. 

In this case, the fictional feel of the memoir made it easy to read and hard to put down. I read the whole thing in one sitting, intrigued by the fucked up nature of Straight Inc. Young Cyndy was an interesting narrator, and I liked the 80s slang that peppered her voice. Also, she gets bonus points for actually managing to sound her age in the memoir. Cyndy actually seemed 13-14, not 8. I find that a lot of YA authors when writing a character that's younger than 15 make them sound like they're fresh out of elementary school, not middle school- see The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Cyndy was believable as an 80s young teen- I could imagine her with her big 80s hair and jean jacket giggling about boys at the mall with Joanna.

I also loved that it took partly in Connecticut. I didn't expect it too, and thought it was just a coincidence when Bridgeport was mentioned. But then Stamford and Norwalk and Monroe showed up, and I kind of loved that I knew everything she was talking about. I'm happy this book showed a different Connecticut than the one that usually shows up in books. Fairfield County, Greenwich, Westport, rich areas with Old Money WASPish families and the only cotillion classes available this side of the Mason-Dixon Line. Either that or charming colonial-era towns populated by lovable eccentrics straight out of Gilmore Girls. In reality, while it is true Connecticut is home to some of the richest area codes in the country and has plenty of picturesque small towns, there's a huge wealth divide, and many of the major cities are Not the Best Places to Live as a result. I mean, sure, there's a couple of exceptions- Trumbull's pretty nice for instance- but Bridgeport, New Haven (there's a reason most of the Yalies live in Woodbridge), and Hartford are pretty bad places to be late at night. We also have a lot of rural towns and old blue collar mill towns that have picked themselves back up by varying degrees after industry left America. My point is, Cyndy paints a good portrait of what the real Connecticut is. Her descriptions of Monroe as a Podunk town especially made me laugh- Monroe's on the edge of the rural area- it's not really rural, but I could see how someone from Stamford would think that. 

This book also probably contains the most glowing description of Bridgeport you will ever find. Seriously. My mother grew up in Trumbull, on the Bridgeport border actually, and worked there as an ER nurse during the AIDS epidemic- right around the time this book takes place- and the stories she could tell you. Bridgeport's probably like the estranged delinquent child of Fairfield County. I think because of that I really liked the way Cyndy thought of the city. Because Bridgeport's kind of like an amped up version of all those old mill towns. Once upon a time, it made everything from corsets to guns. It's home to PT Barnum, the Frisbie Pie Company (where the name Frisbee comes from), and Subway and what would the world be like without those things. But it got hit hard by deindustrialization and I'm afraid it hasn't changed much since '85, the year this memoir was supposed to take place. I suppose they're trying to fix it, but this is also the city that, two years ago, elected a guy as mayor who got arrested for corruption the last time he served, so I'm not really holding my breath.

Sorry, I get a little carried away with stuff like that. 

Anyway, one thing I didn't think worked entirely about this memoir is the way she switched tenses a lot, making me confused when an event took place. In fact, the whole time frame of this memoir once she got into Straight was a bit hard to follow. She would make references about events that happened "last night" even though she didn't write about them when they actually happened and, again, her tenses would get all mixed up and I'd just end up confused. Luckily, it was easy enough to not fixate on and I was able to get the gist of what was going on. Because once you get past those minor issues, the book becomes easy to read- and an interesting one at that.

So I did enjoy The Dead Inside. I mean, I didn't love it or anything, but I did find it absolutely fascinating and liked Cyndy enough. I'd recommend it if you want an easy to read memoir with an interesting subject matter.

8 out of 10

The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“We're not courting trouble...Flirting with it, at most.”- The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue, Mackenzi Lee

Henry “Monty” Montague was born and bred to be a gentleman, but he was never one to be tamed. The finest boarding schools in England and the constant disapproval of his father haven’t been able to curb any of his roguish passions—not for gambling halls, late nights spent with a bottle of spirits, or waking up in the arms of women or men.

But as Monty embarks on his Grand Tour of Europe, his quest for a life filled with pleasure and vice is in danger of coming to an end. Not only does his father expect him to take over the family’s estate upon his return, but Monty is also nursing an impossible crush on his best friend and traveling companion, Percy.

Still it isn’t in Monty’s nature to give up. Even with his younger sister, Felicity, in tow, he vows to make this yearlong escapade one last hedonistic hurrah and flirt with Percy from Paris to Rome. But when one of Monty’s reckless decisions turns their trip abroad into a harrowing manhunt that spans across Europe, it calls into question everything he knows, including his relationship with the boy he adores.

Remember how I said that Life: An Exploded Diagram is historical fiction for those who love history? Well, The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue is the opposite of that.

Okay, I'm being mean. But if you actually enjoy history and are expecting to harvest any new knowledge about the 18th century, don't pick this one up. If you want a decadent tour of Europe long before two world wars ravaged it don't pick this up. If you want gorgeous descriptions of 18th century architecture, dress, or art don't pick this one up. Basically, if you want historical fiction at all, don't pick this one up.

Well, I'm being a little harsh here. But in my defense, I wanted an 18th century version of The Luxe, dammit (Anna Godbersen, get on that please). I wanted fun, brain melting trash with tons of pretty dresses and a cute gay romance. I wanted lighthearted adventures around old world Europe. And for the first 100 or so pages, that's what I got.

Well, kind of. Right away, there were far too many tropes that I cared for in both historical fiction and regular contemporaries. The asshole dad, for one. That's one trope I'm fucking sick of, to the point where whenever I see it, that book doesn't have a chance in hell of getting a five star rating. Lazy goddamn writing. Also, can I just say that people hit their children back in the 1700s and it wasn't nearly as big of a deal as Lee treated it to be. She is committing the cardinal sin of inserting modern morals in a non modern (or Early Modern) society and that pissed me off. I don't care if you don't agree with it, that's how things were done back then and we can't fix it now. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I could have dealt with a few tropes if the book ended up being as fun as it seemed for the first 100 pages. I mean, sure, would I have wanted a few more descriptions of Paris or other beautiful European cities, most definitely. In fact, the lack of descriptions made me nervous- how can Lee write a book about a Grand Tour of Europe and not write about the cities? Or the clothing! I get not everyone's as into historical clothing as I am, but that's a must for any fun fluffy historical fiction book. 

But then, after 100 pages, the book seemed to take a strange, messy turn. It seemed that Lee suddenly got bored with the book she was writing and just decided to start winging it. I didn't have a problem with it taking on a more action-adventure vibe until we got to Barcelona and a little voice in the back of my head said "Isn't this just like Marina?" And of course, I started comparing the two and I'm sure you could guess which came out on top. Marina just did that whole Frankenstein-esque plotline so much better than this book, and, hell Marina even did city descriptions 110% better than this book and it wasn't even about a goddamn journey around Europe. Marina made me feel like I was in Barcelona, one of the most beautiful cities in the world, in this book Barcelona could have been Naples, for all I knew. It made me wonder if Lee has ever even left the United States, though her author biography seems to claim otherwise.

Not to mention, the writing declined in quality after the first 100 pages. While I wasn't in love with the style at first- thought it was a bit try-hard- I still thought it was nice that Lee tried to mimic the way people spoke back then- she did it in a very cliche manner, but I could have dealt with it. Instead, as the book progressed the narrative sounded more and more like a contemporary, again making me think the writer lost interest in the book she was writing or decided it was too much effort. In that respect she reminded me of the way Katherine Longshore writes, a dissonant blend of anachronisms and historical vocabulary. The word sloppy came to mind, unfortunately.

But what about the characters? Cliche. For one thing, both Monty and Percy were obviously written by a woman. Monty had the potential for interestingness, with his rakishness, but he fell too much on his rather trope-y background for that. Also, at times he struck me as Lee trying her best to make him into a lovable rogue, on pare with Jack Sparrow, but it didn't work too well. Percy was another potential, but in the end his character turned too much into the token for me to truly like him- I mean, with the exception of his love of music, his three defining character traits- gay, biracial (black), and epileptic- all seemed included for the sake of inclusiveness and thus he didn't seem like a real individual, and frankly it was made even worse by Lee's decision to use first person. Which is a damn shame. It kind of made me want to write a character with those three traits though, and see how much fun I could have with them. Felicity was a cliche and one that I have particular hatred for. You know, the badass, knowledge-obsessed, bookish, ahead of her time historical fiction heroine? I do, unfortunately. I had some hopes for her, too, when she was shown at the beginning of the novel reading "romance novels". I was hoping she would be original, a girl who might be a bit frivolous and someone who maybe even loves fashion and romance and all that, but is still smart and knows how to get what she wants. I mean, this is the 18th century. Women may not have been allowed to have a ton of education, but they could have plenty of power if they knew how to get it. The courtesans in the Sun King's court, for instance, were some of the most powerful women in France because of their close connections to the king. Unfortunately, Felicity's character fell too much back on typical tropes of what a strong female character is, and suffered as a result. And I think my least favorite parts of both these characters is that they could have played the perfect straight men to Monty's antics, but instead every time they would lecture him- and have really good points, too- they always started going on and on about how their lives are so much worse than his. Which got real tiring after a while, because the "who has the worse life" pissing contest could go on without end, especially in historical fiction. 

I also felt many things could have been taken out for a more concise narrative. The pirates, for instance, had no real point and easily could have been taken out. Also, they were more romanticised than the goddamn Pirates of Caribbean. Look, I love pirates, but regardless of their race, they were shit human beings who thought nothing of killing women and children and sinking ships for a quick buck. For an author who seems so against the romanticisation of anything in history, I was surprised she made that mistake.

The ending was also stupid and again, unrealistic. I think it would have made for a much better ending if all the characters were forced to confront reality, if Percy had gone to Amsterdam and Felicity to her finishing school and Monty had to take over his father's estate. Sure, it would have been sobering, but ultimately realistic and would have been more in line with the realistic view of the time period Lee had been trying to portray, somewhat. But of course I can't really fault her too much for the fairytale ending, given that this is fluffy historical fiction you probably aren't going to read for a history lesson etc etc etc. 

What I wish is that Lee had given us a specific year. Saying the 18th century isn't enough. A lot went down in the 18th century, from the rise of world powers Prussia and Russia, the increasing colonization of the New World, the Second Hundred Years' War (fought in a series of wars that all boiled down to France vs Britain, including the War of Spanish Succession), the Scientific Revolution, the Age of Enlightenment, the Financial Revolution and beginning Industrial Revolution in Great Britain, and the revolutions by the end of the century. So a lot of shit went down, and the only war Lee really mentioned was the War of Spanish Succession, because she had to insert watered down European politics in there somehow. She also talked a bit about the Scientific Revolution, in the form of Felicity but then started going on and on about alchemy. A King Louis was mentioned, but King Louises ruled France basically the entire century, until, you know, Robespierre and Napoleon and all that. Anyway, in the book King Louis is mentioned as being sick, but the Sun King died in 1715, which after reading the main text (but before the afternote, which cleared up some confusion) when I was trying to figure out all these dates it seemed like it would have been a good time for the book to take place, it being after the war of Spanish Succession and during the Golden Age of Piracy (which Lee mentions in her author's note in the back), since that ended in 1730. However it seemed like it had been some time since the War ended, and it ended in 1714. Lee also has a couple characters talk about Voltaire's exile in England, which wasn't until 1726 or 1728 (one of those years). The women's fashion at the ball at Versailles was also described as being over the top in a way it wouldn't have been until at least the 1750s. The only thing I'm sure about is that it was before 1770.

So where was I going with this lengthy rant about timeline? Oh yes, if Lee had actually cared about being factual, she would have given us a year. And yes, I consider that a must in historical fiction, because then I can pull in all kinds of fun facts about the context of the time period and all that jazz and the author could have gone into more specifics about the politics, art, scientific discovers and fashion of that particular year instead of giving us the vague overview she did. On the same note, hers is one of the few author's notes I've ever been disappointed in, because she didn't really give a ton of facts and didn't really seem that interested in it. I felt she put it in as a sense of obligation and not because she has any real interest in teaching others, or seemed like she just figured most would skip past it anyway. I mean, she did narrow the decade down to the 1720s, which does make a lot of sense but still, that should have been in the main text. I do, however, have one major correction- Alexander Hamilton wasn't mixed race. He did grow up in the Caribbean, but his mother was half Scottish or British (one of those) and half French Hugenot. While there are rumors, there is no evidence of him actually being of mixed race background and, hate to say it, but most of those rumors were probably started by his political opponents in an attempt to discredit him. Welcome to the 18th century, folks. Dumas, on the other hand, was indeed mixed race, so she at least gets half a point for that. 

I haven't read My Lady Jane, but feel like this book is inspired by that one, to some extent. Mostly the fantastical elements in this novel to show the politics of the time. While I'm sure it makes historical politics, much of it heavy and complicated, go down far easier, especially to a lay reader or someone not interested much in history, I don't really like it myself. And the history teacher in me is disappointed by the idea that people need fantasy to become interested in history, especially since the politics are truly fascinating on their own, even more interesting than the clusterfuck that is today's politics (and as an added bonus, you miss out on all the bitterness and resentment that comes with talking about today's politics! Though let me tell you something, you haven't truly lived until you've gotten into a heated debate over Trotsky vs Stalin). But as a whole, I didn't really like the politics parts anyway, because I felt like they were included just as a selling point and took too much away from the idea of a Grand Tour. I would have preferred it if she went the Cabaret approach and had all of this simmering in the background, coming up in the various salons or in the form of letters or newspaper articles during our group's travels around Europe.

I sound like I really hate this book, even though I don't. Sure, I wish Lee had made several other decisions writing this book and I wish she actually sat down and thought about what she wanted the book to be, but I suppose it was fun enough as is. And I admit, my expectations were too high (this was actually my most anticipated book of the year). I liked that it took place in the 1700s, one of my favorite centuries when it comes to fashion and art and politics (though I admit I'm not that into the Scientific Revolution or the Age of Enlightenment) and not WWII like so many other new releases. I liked that it was a male/male romance. I was hoping this book would remind me of Brideshead Revisited, at least loosely. 

That being said, this book was easy to lose myself in, and it inspired me endlessly, mostly to create my own version of it. And I did enjoy mentally revisiting Marina, and reminding myself how much I loved it and how much that book stayed with me even though I read it 4 months ago. And I admit, I do love it when a historical fiction novel of any kind gains any form of popularity, especially one with as unique and ambitious an idea as this one. For once, I'm actually excited to see the copy cats. So I can't really say I hate this book. In fact, maybe this book is exactly what this genre needs. For the past four years, historical fiction has fallen into a WWII rut and it needs to end. Hopefully, the popularity surrounding this book will open the doors for new, fun releases. But maybe I'm just getting my hopes up again.

6 out of 10

Dark Places by Gillian Flynn Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“The truly frightening flaw in humanity is our capacity for cruelty - we all have it.”- Dark Places, Gillian Flynn

Libby Day was seven when her mother and two sisters were murdered in “The Satan Sacrifice of Kinnakee, Kansas.” She survived—and famously testified that her fifteen-year-old brother, Ben, was the killer. Twenty-five years later, the Kill Club—a secret society obsessed with notorious crimes—locates Libby and pumps her for details. They hope to discover proof that may free Ben. Libby hopes to turn a profit off her tragic history: She’ll reconnect with the players from that night and report her findings to the club—for a fee. As Libby’s search takes her from shabby Missouri strip clubs to abandoned Oklahoma tourist towns, the unimaginable truth emerges, and Libby finds herself right back where she started—on the run from a killer.

For the past few months, I've been test-driving, so to speak, popular thriller writers, looking for one that fits me. It's a yearly search at this point, and in the past I've both read and rejected writers like Paula Hawkins and Chevy Stevens before finding Tana French. However, in April, my search was reignited as I realized I only had two more of her books left and needed to find a new thriller writer I liked maybe not as much, but close enough to keep me happy until 2018, when hopefully the next Murder Squad book will be released. I've had some success so far with both Jilliane Hoffman and Robert Dugoni (though I haven't found the time yet to pick up more of their stuff) and some disappoints (see Megan Abbott and Laura Lippman), but despite purposefully searching out and reading some of the biggest names in the genre I still hadn't yet read a Gillian Flynn.

Well, that's not quite true. I did get about 20 pages into Gone Girl before losing the will to go on, but it occurred to me that perhaps Gone Girl wasn't the best Flynn novel to start with- the subject matter didn't even interest me all that much- and instead I should attempt a book whose subject content appealed to me more. Like Dark Places. 

So. Gillian Flynn, take two.

Unfortunately, with her I think the hype got to me. So many thriller lovers, many whose opinions I trust, adore her. And hell, a lot of thriller writers want to be her. I mean, after Gone Girl literally all a publisher had to do to sell a new thriller is put "for fans of Gone Girl" on it and boom, instant best seller. And everyone appears to love her other books too, calling them dark and gritty explorations into the deep minds of unlikable people. So I went into Dark Places expecting to be wowed by the fucking Monet of thrillers. I wanted greatness, dammit.

As predicted by my aborted Gone Girl reading experience, this book and I started out on a rough road as I was struggling to not let my mind wander off and was trying to get invested into the characters, to have them become real for me. After about an hour or two of reading, I was dismayed to discover just how little of this good sized (not large but by no means tiny) book I had actually read. My point is, it doesn't automatically hook you. Now, I don't mind it when contemporaries or historical fictions novels meander along at the beginning, but I demand it from my mysteries. The middle can drag a bit and I won't kill you, but the beginning has to catch you right from the get go, get you invested in the mystery so you don't just put it down early. This book, well, didn't. 

If I was Flynn, I would have started this book off the way the movie Capote did. I would have painted a picture of this cold winter's morning in this dying Kansas town and then zoomed in to this failing farm, where we, the readers, encounter the dead bodies of the wife and children. And I would have done likely through the eyes of Libby. I wouldn't have started it off with the children's song cliche, that's for damn sure.

Instead, we get introduced to Libby. From what I gather from my research into Gillian Flynn's writing (read: watched three Booktube videos that mention her, also read a Goodreads interview) her shtick is to write unlikable heroines. I'd probably like that idea more if she didn't frame it as a politically based decision, and instead admitted that she just wanted to write miserable bitches, but hey, at least she's doing it. And yes, I suppose Libby is pretty unlikable, but frankly I feel like I never really got to know her. I didn't get any insight into her dark and twisted mind, and it did feel like some of her negative personality traits- stealing, low temper- were tacked on because, again, Gillian Flynn's shtick demands it. But I did end up kind of liking Libby, liking her in the begrudging way I like characters that are so obviously characters, and I didn't mind living in her head for a bit.

The best character in the book, hands down, is Lyle. I found him endearing in a way I didn't expect to, kind of like a nervous, overexcited puppy. I especially liked that Libby ended up coming around to him and by the end of the book, they had a genuine friendship.

However, I was not thrilled with the rest of the characters. They were disappointingly cliche, something that, yes, I would have been annoyed at in any mystery writer, but in this case it came off almost like an insult. We have the martyr mother, the tough aunt, the deadbeat dad, the dick cop/loan guy. I expected more nuance from a thriller writer of this caliber. That being said, the women in the Free Day Society made me laugh, and I think I felt more sadness for Magda's son Ned than anyone else in the book put together.

I will say this, though, this book is the kind you need to read all at once to enjoy it best. I found I liked it more when I actually sat down and read it as opposed to just reading little bits here and there. When I took the long solid periods of time approach, the characters got, well, flatter, but less annoying, her writing seemed better, and the mystery more engrossing than prior, when I just read little increments of it.

The mystery took a while getting there, but when it did get there it was suitably interesting. It was a fun, turn your brain off kind of mystery, which probably wasn't what Flynn was going for, but I ended up liking it more that way. When I tried to look at it as, I don't know, commentary on the sorry state of the rural economy? On what poverty does to the mind? It fell dramatically flat. Flynn's plot lacked the subtlety for that to truly work; she tried to pile way, way too much into the last day of the Day family that it just came off as ultimately unrealistic and again, not subtle at all. Compare this novel to Tana French's Broken Harbor, the book I thought the most about while reading this one. I think both this book and Broken Harbor are trying to say the same thing, but the subtlety and almost mundaneness of how French portrayed the effect financial ruin has on a family blows Flynn's heavy-handed approach out of the water.

Flynn's writing was decent enough. Nothing mind blowing here, and there were a few odd metaphors and descriptions, but I liked it just fine. That being said, it surprisingly wasn't very original, just kind of generic thriller writing. I suppose the novelty of Flynn lies in her plots and heroines.

Also, the ending. For one, implausible. She should have decided on who exactly she wanted the killer to be, or perhaps her editor should have forced her into making a decision. Also, I think it went on a bit too long. I don't think Flynn knew how to end the book, and when it did end it was kind of clumsy and like she just put a period at the end of the last sentence and hit send. It reminded me of those awkward phone calls where neither party knows how to end it and the conversation goes for a beat too long and even then the call seems to end in mid sentence. It would have been better, I think, if she put the last Libby chapter right before the last Ben chapter and have the Ben chapter end it. I mean, it still would have been awkward, but it would have felt more like an actual ending.

So, I don't know if I'm exactly in a hurry to continue my Gillian Flynn reading experience. Gone Girl's probably never going to happen, but maybe Sharp Objects will? All I know is, there's something in me that refuses to write Ms Flynn completely.

7 out of 10

Popular Authors I Haven't Read Yet

This was originally going to be a list of popular books I haven't read, but once I actually got to that part, I didn't know what to write about. I mean, I haven't read books like The Mortal Instruments series, but I also haven't read anything else by Cassandra Clare. Every time I came up with a popular book I haven't read yet, I would think to myself "oh, mind as well just put down the author because it's easier". So this basically turned into a list of authors because if I read one book by a specific popular author I will usually read another book. Quality control and all. So this basically turned into a list of 10 authors I haven't yet read. Each are in one of three categories: definitely going to read, someday probably going to read, and probably not ever going to read.

Gillian Flynn
  This one is one that's definitely going to happen soon, since I'm currently in the midst of reading one of her books. However, I haven't actually completed a Gillian Flynn novel, so it counts. I know she's a widely beloved thriller writer, but her stuff isn't usually the kind of thriller I pick up. Also, I was kind of turned off of her after I attempted Gone Girl, which couldn't hold my attention at all (of course, I only got about 20 pages in). But so many thriller lovers love her so I am giving her another shot, but that's why you haven't seen any real references to Ms Flynn's work pop up in any of my thriller reviews.

Sarah J Maas
  Unlike the above, I think I can safely say this one will probably never happen. Probably because my definition of hell is a long ass high fantasy novel. No, I don't care that what she writes is technically "fantasy-lite" or whatever all you fantasy fans say, if it takes place in another world, it's high fantasy. And honestly, her books seem pretty generically fantasy, too. Of course, that's probably just me being stupid in the genre, because to me, the majority of fantasy out there all sounds the same. Again, if you like her stuff, all the more power to you, but personally, no matter the hype, I'm not going to pick up a 400 book and be bored meaningless because it's apparently really good and addictive fantasy when I don't even like fantasy in the first place.

Cassandra Clare
  This is another one I'm pretty sure will never happen. I mean, this chick has managed to write like a million books about the same goddamn thing. I mean, I guess I can't blame her for writing the same thing but kind of different because people keep buying them, but I feel like she kind of dug herself into a hole there because now she'll can never publish a serious book because she'll be known as the Shadowhunter writer forever. And that's not even a good thing, because let's all remember that The Mortal Instruments started because of a Harry Potter fanfiction. But yes, all her books sound the same- hell, even the titles of the series are basically interchangeable. Also, I have serious issues with the fact that if I even think about picking up Lady Midnight I have to slog my way through like five other series just to read one goddamn book. So at this point my boycott of Cassandra Clare is one of principle, which always sounds better than her books just not appealing to me at all.

Kasie West/Jenny Han/Morgan Matson/Stephanie Perkins
  These writers get grouped together because they're all the same really. Cutesy chick-lit authors who like to write about sweet romances. I don't have a problem with this per say, it's just not my taste in reading material. Not to mention, their plots just never really appealed to me, and honestly with the case of some of them- Morgan Matson and Kasie West- they write so much I wouldn't know where to start even if I did want to read them just to see what the hype is all about. Especially Kasie West- I swear to God she puts out a book every six months, they all look like, and their summaries just blend together into the same exact thing. The only one I'd be tempted by is Jenny Han, since she does write some things that are the fun, Mean Girl-esque kind of chick lit that I don't hate the idea of, and I know how widely beloved her To All the Boys I've Loved Before/Lara Jean trilogy is. Of course, I don't think I'd read it any time soon. The funny thing is, I do casually enjoy drama fueled, fluffy books when I read historical fiction, but that's probably because I just like being transported to a different time period- hence my liking of Anna Godbersen.

Rainbow Rowell
  For some reason, I've never had any real desire to read anything by Rainbow Rowell. Eleanor and Park I've stayed away from because I don't want to read any books I know I'm going to hate, and I also kind of resent that whenever I want to listen some Joy Division or XTC or whatever on Youtube half the comments are "Eleanor and Park brought me here" or odd references to the book. Also, Fangirl never appealed to me because I'm not really given into fangirlish tendencies. Also, her adult books don't really look that interesting either, so there's that. I don't know. This one might happen eventually.

Stephen King
  I hate that I haven't read the King yet. I want to read him really badly, hell, I even have a collection of his short stories sitting on my Kindle account, but I haven't gotten around to it yet. Also, I don't even know where to start with his stuff. His pseudonym stuff from the early 70s like Running Man? His detective fiction? Hell, maybe I should start out huge and just read It or The Shining. Or Carrie. I am tempted on Carrie. I think that's my problem, though, especially when authors have a ton of work and everyone's got their own idea as to which book to pick up first, to get the ultimate Stephen King experience.

Libba Bray
  I don't know about this one. I'm not a historical fantasy fan, and I feel like I'll end up nitpicking the hell out of it. While I'm probably never going to read Beauty Queens, that's just not going to happen, and I'm also probably not going to read her most famous trilogy- the Gemma Doyle books- since I'm not really that into books that take place during the Victorian times- I prefer the 20th century. However, The Diviners does intrigue me because, you know, the 1920s and all that jazz. At the same time, I'm wary of falling in love with a series only to find that the next book is on, like, a permanent hiatus. So yeah. This one may happen, it may not.

I mean, there are other popular authors that aren't on here, but I didn't want to make this list really long. These are really just big ones or ones that it might be shocking that I haven't read yet. So what about you? Any popular authors you have read yet?

The Somnambulist's Dreams by Lars Boye Jerlach Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“Everything is never what it seems, but sometimes what you see, is so obvious that you cannot make sense of it.”- The Somnambulist's Dreams

A lighthouse keeper on the coast of New England discovers a small collection of seemingly deranged writings that have been left behind by his somnambulant predecessor. When he begins to read them, he swiftly becomes an unwitting participant in a nebulous narrative that not only defies time and space, but brings into question his own sanity.

Being from New England, lighthouses hold a special place in my heart. While I love all varieties of lighthouse, I admit my favorites are the ones on some small, rocky island off the coast of or seemingly in the middle of the ocean. Whenever I see a picture of one or pass by one in a boat, I like to imagine the people who lived and worked there, maybe even families, and wonder what drove them out there to essentially live a life of solitude.

Of course, I'm being romantic about it. Realistically, I know the life of a lighthouse keeper couldn't have been much fun. Being away from everyone else, a slave to the light, only company maybe a cat or dog and the passing ships. Having to wait for supplies every month or every two months, etc. I don't think I would have enjoyed that kind of life, myself.

And yet, any book that has to do with lighthouses I usually end up picking up (except The Light Between Oceans, funny enough, maybe that's because it seems like one of those novels in the Women's Fiction category alongside My Sister's Keeper or The Memory Keeper's Daughter). This book was no exception. A bunch of odd writings detailing the deranged dreams of the old lighthouse keeper? I never clicked buy so quickly.

And it was exactly what it was advertised as. From the first letter I was hooked. I enjoyed the trips I took in the grief twisted mind of Enoch Soule, and in particular had fun guessing where or who was in each dream of his. Some I got right away, like Poe or Bowie, but others I had to guess at a bit more. For instance, I can't tell whether the artist who did the chessboard is Marcel Duchamp (of the signed urinal fame) or Rene Magritte. I thought it might be Duchamp, because of the bicycle wheel on the stool, but then he said "Ceci n'est pas une pipe" which is Magritte. I don't know. I admit, I'm not as versed in this area of art history as I should probably be (though I am a casual admirer of Magritte's work- of course, I just like surrealism. Duchamp, on the other hand, loses me).

The writing is very Scandinavian. Even without a name like Lars, I could tell he was from somewhere up north. It reminded me a lot of the writing in Wolf Winter, a very simplistic, almost cold style of prose. It eventually grew on me, though was jarring after the last few books I read, which were all very purple. My favorite by far was the contrast between the simple sentences (he did this, he did this, then he did this) and the fanciful narrative of the dreams. By doing this, Jerlach exemplified the contrast between the unnamed lighthouse keeper's rather mundane regular routine and the dreams without ever telling us. 

I mean, there is some flaws. For one, the book feels self-published. I don't like self-published books because I believe strongly in the importance of an editor. It's not self-published and it is well-edited, but still. Just a pet peeve of mine. Also, the word "somnambulist" or some variation of the word appeared in the text too many times. Of course, these flaws are all just little things that bug me, and YMMV.

I would go more into the plot, but I went into this book mostly blind and ended up enjoying it more for it. This is one of those books best discovered and interpreted by oneself. So pick this one up one night, maybe put Space Oddity on in the background, and enjoy your trip in the mind of Enoch Soule.

8-8.5 out of 10

All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“We are all alone, trapped in these bodies and our own minds, and whatever company we have in this life is only fleeting and superficial.”- All the Bright Places, Jennifer Niven

Theodore Finch is fascinated by death, and he constantly thinks of ways he might kill himself. But each time, something good, no matter how small, stops him.
 
Violet Markey lives for the future, counting the days until graduation, when she can escape her Indiana town and her aching grief in the wake of her sister’s recent death.
 
When Finch and Violet meet on the ledge of the bell tower at school, it’s unclear who saves whom. And when they pair up on a project to discover the “natural wonders” of their state, both Finch and Violet make more important discoveries: It’s only with Violet that Finch can be himself—a weird, funny, live-out-loud guy who’s not such a freak after all. And it’s only with Finch that Violet can forget to count away the days and start living them. But as Violet’s world grows, Finch’s begins to shrink.
 

Cutesy. Pandering. Derivative. Shallow. Fake. 

These are all words I thought of at various points during this book.

But let's start from the beginning, shall we?

This book is quite famous due to all the controversy it stirred up. Controversy I know very little about except its existence because I strongly believe in withholding judgement until I've actually read the goddamn book. That means not reading reviews about how problematic it may be. So while the controversy surrounding it did in fact make me actually decide to read it, I did my best to try and see if I actually liked it or hated it before passing judgement.

Also, can I just say the summary did give me some hope? Because I would have fucking loved it if this book turned out to be anything like Harold and Maude. I love that movie more than I probably should. Finch was the one that gave me the most hope, because if he ended up being anything like Harold, who's the reason young Bud Cort is one of my biggest celebrity crushes, I would have adored him. 

And I didn't like it very much. But not because I found it especially problematic (though some parts made me side-eye). It's just that this is one of my least favorite kinds of contemporary. It's cutesy romance disguised as a hard hitting contemporary. 

I don't really know why I hate cutesy romance so much. I mean, Jesus, I like cutesy things- see my long-lasting love for Nintendo games like Animal Crossing or Harvest Moon or other girly things like kitties and stuffed animals. But for some reason, I despise these sugar-sweet romances in books. There are some exceptions to this- I adored Graffiti Moon, for instance, but that book had exquisite prose and gave me the same aching feeling in my chest that I get when I read a Zusak contemporary. This book, well, didn't have that. Instead, I felt like I was getting force fed this couple, with the author using her prose as a means of pointing out how perfect they were together (look, they're quoting Virginia Woolf to each other! look, they're wandering around Indiana together! don't you see how much they belong together!) instead of working on character growth to let them develop chemistry more naturally over the course of the novel. I know I've mentioned over and over again how much I hate when two characters hate each other and then fall in love, but I understand and even commend the reasons why those authors use that trope. They don't just want to throw the characters together. And I think that works in some situations, like in Unwind or in Graffiti Moon, and I wonder if perhaps Niven should have taken that path instead of this strange, instantaneous connection.

I didn't particularly like any of the characters. Violet seemed bland, the generically beautiful, smart, broken heroine who was, of course, an exceptionally talented writer. I've read some version of this character in every single cutesy contemporary I've had the displeasure of picking up. Finch had the horrible home life it seems all love interests have, with an asshole father and a cool older sister. No ground-breaking material, there.

Also, have any of you read The Fault in Our Stars? I have (still regretting that life choice). And clearly, Jennifer Niven has too. Seriously. Its influence on this book becomes more clear as the book goes on- it's not as obvious in the beginning. I mean, All the Bright Places did go down easier than The Fault in Our Stars did for me- while Finch did give me strong Gus vibes Violet was far blander than HazelGraceLancaster was. Violet was also so obviously a fictional character, thus I couldn't actually feel anything for her. Same with Finch.

Which brings me to my next point nicely. This book was so shallow I couldn't even dip my toe into it. For a book that proclaimed to be about the opposite of shallow things I felt like all the emotions of the characters were written by someone who had no idea how to write emotions. The best example of this shallowness is Violet's parents. You never would have guessed they lost a daughter. The grief her parents felt only showed up when it was convenient for the plot. I'm not saying Niven needed to have a child or a sister die and feel this type of grief firsthand or even be a parent in the first place to write about it (I'm not) but she should have done research, read books or blogs by grieving parents (I like An Inch of Gray, myself). Or, and what I think she should have done in the first place, she should have changed it from a sister dying to a best friend dying. And Finch's family dynamics were horribly done. His father only hit him when it was convenient for the plot, making both (the death of a child and domestic abuse) seem drama fuel, nothing more.

The fake aspects come primarily from me being unable to believe that Finch's counselor wouldn't tell his mother that he was going to kill himself by jumping off a bell tower. Any school in America at least would report that immediately, not only to the parents but also to 911 and other emergency services. That is a neon warning sign, and not something any school would have swept under the rug. And you can't argue confidentiality, because self-harm and suicidal thoughts/actions don't fall under the rules of confidentiality. But I suppose Niven was thinking that it would be a nice meet-cute idea and screw reality. 

With all that said, the mental illness aspects make it hard to critique it, because the author and supporters can just hide behind the fact that "it's a mental illness book" and I have to support it because it makes such a taboo topic less taboo. However, I can't give mental illness books prizes for just existing anymore. Simply because, it's no longer a taboo topic. People are more and more open these days about struggling with suicidal thoughts and mental illnesses. I can openly say now that I struggled with thoughts of killing myself in high school and no one's going to shun me anymore. Hell, it's barely stigmatized anymore. We've come a long way from the days of suicide obituaries saying natural causes. 

So no, this book gets no brownie points from me for being about bipolar disorder and that's what separates it from being just another cutesy contemporary. Because at the end of the day, it is just another cutesy contemporary. Despite her probably protesting to the contrary, she is no different from Jennifer E Smith, whose sugary This Is What Happy Looks Like made my Least Favorites of 2016 list. Except, Jennifer E Smith probably doesn't try to be any different from what she really is.

3.5 out of 10