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[readmoreobsessless]

Alright y’all, this one is testing me. Imagine how good it would feel to finish a book that is 830 pages long. It’s probably the longest thing I will have read since Harry P which totally doesn’t count as a reading achievement because we all know there is some sort of magic in those pages that makes you consume them like candy. It’s also a little shorter than the Bible but the only reason I read the Bible (twice) was because of OCD so that also doesn’t count. 

The thing is, it’s really good. And I mean golden Man Booker Prize sticker on the front, stay up late because you cant stop reading, Eleanor Catton can we be BFFs kind of good. But it’s just the time investment. I have so many other books I’m SO SO excited to read (Underground Railroad, Guns Germs and Steel, ELIGIBLE!!) that the thought of spending two to three weeks on this puppy is dampening my spirit. The life of a girl with the attention span of a fennec fox (google them - you will DIE! in a good way). 

Wish me luck!

PS at some point in the future I will dedicate myself to improving the aesthetic of these book pics (nasty, mystery carpet? really?) but no time when I have 595 more pages to read!

[readmoreobsessless]

I have a thing about reading “the book of the moment.” I don’t do it. I like to let  the hype die down, wait a few years until it’s mostly forgotten and everyone’s moved on, then dig it up from an old “Best of” list, get SUPER INTO IT and annoy everyone around me with: “what how can you not remember this? It was only five years ago!” 

It’s kind of like the time I didn’t see Titanic until I was 15 (by that I mean my parents wouldnt let me see it when it came out and then my child brain forgot it existed until it showed up one afternoon on TBS). And afterwards I was PISSED at freaking Rose for taking up all the room on the door and needed to VENT. But by then Leo was a “real actor” in The Aviator (which you MUST watch - incredible portrayal of OCD) and I was the pop-culture loser who had to belt “nearrr, farrr, where eeevveerrr you are” alone in my basement. 

And that’s where I am with We Were Liars. Totally on purpose/accidentally missed the boat when it came through the harbor in 2014. But I was hooked as soon as I started it this week (are you appreciating all the nautical metaphors here?) and finished it in two days. 

“His nose was dramatic, his mouth sweet. Skin deep drown, hair black and waving. Body wired with energy. Gat seemed spring-loaded. Like he was searching for something. He was contemplation and enthusiasm. Ambition and strong coffee. I could have looked at him forever.”

When I read those lines on page 10 I was like oooohhh shiittttt this is gonna be good. And the rest of the book continues in the same way, half-poetry, half-story. Freaking amazing.

There’s a twist. A big one and you dont really see the truth taking shape until right at the end. But along with Cadence trying to uncover the real story of the previous summer, I was just as interested in her complicated relationship with her mother: “Mummy snapped. She said to get hold of myself. Be normal, now, she said. Right now, she said. Because you are. Because you can be. Don’t cause a scene, she told me. Breathe and sit up. I did what she asked.”

When appearances trump emotional stability, when the demons only come out in private. The sometimes impossible demands of being related to other people. It reminded me a lot, actually, of my girl Miranda’s song, “Mama’s Broken Heart” (”Hide your crazy and start acting like a lady.”)

The book is almost dreamlike. Even the sad, heavy moments feel poetic and light. You go, E. Lockhart. It’s beautiful. 

[readmoreobsessless]

Testing testing 123