I don't usually review books. I'll bitch, I'll share my thoughts when asked but very rarely will I review a book with more than 'I liked it' or 'I loved it' or 'I hated it'.
I couldn't do that to this book. I couldn't put it down and forget about it. If you follow me on twitter, this is the book I was live-tweeting last night.
This is the book where I was 20 pages in and in love because it's everything I want to be as a writer. This is the book that had me laughing and crying, had me sad and hurt and disappointed, but only ever because the character were so fucking real that I'd heaped expectation after expectation on them. This is the book where the characters were so human that they let me down.
It had it's faults. The end was weaker than the start, something I sympathize with because I have that problem when writing too. The fact that this book rests entirely on its character's shoulders - something so incredibly rare - means that it ceases to matter. When you're picking up the pieces of your heart, alongside the main character as he picks up his, it ceases to matter.
This book is vague at points and hard hitting at others. It works that way. Some people may not like it, but you have to admit, it works. It's from the first person POV, there's no way it can't work.
This book is everything I hate about relationships - dashed dreams and someone needy - but it's understandable. The author never paints it as something romantic, a relationship we should all want (though, if you're a hopeless romantic like me, you'll be left craving aspects of the relationship). There's always this subtle undercurrent of this is why it's the way it is, this is why it's not healthy, this is why it's okay but really not okay.
This book hurt me and made me laugh. It made me envious and it made me sympathetic. It surprised me, and I fell in love.
Read this book, even if it's not your thing. Read it, but don't blame me when you end up a crying wreck.