I both love and hate that I reread this gorgeous, funny story that fist punches people right in the soft places. The previous review still stands.
This novel destroyed me from the inside out. I avoided it, because I thought it was going to be another Cancer Kid book that makes me cry. It is (a Cancer Kid book) and it did (make me cry), but it went way beyond that. I think it set a new standard that other authors in this genre will struggle to live up to.
I let this story into my life, all the gorgeous notions and metaphors and ideas and words. I almost wanted to be the characters, full of wit, humor, life, and individuality, despite how difficult, messy, and painful their lives actually were.
And then the grenade exploded. The shrapnel pierced me, and I stood by and let it happen. Because some stories are worth bleeding over, worth crying for, and worth screaming at the universe for.
The ache it leaves is a tragic side effect…of Epic Stories, not Dying. Well, both actually.
Read with caution: I think it left a new scar on my well-traveled reader’s heart.