Guys, these book reviews are coming 'atcha. There are three unread New Yorkers on my kitchen table (I'm saving them for Iceland as they are easier to dispose of than books) and I have a fair amount to show for it.
This book made my heart make funny noises.
It made it beat seemingly slower and faster at the same time. It made me cry with sadness and with pure joy.
Seriously, if 16 year-old girls knew what was good for them, they would stop mooning over boys who can write songs and spend some time with boys who can write words that don't need to hide behind lame guitar cords and canned drum beats (You're Welcome, nerdy book-writing boys).
There isn't much I really want to say about this - except you should go read it. Now. Right now. It will take you exactly one lazy, sunny afternoon on the porch. You'll still have time afterwards to cry a little and then send a wish out into the universe that you'll feel that way some day. Or that someone will feel that way about you. And even if it never happens - you can smile because it happened somewhere, for someone. And in some small way, the fact that we get to share it makes it wonderful.
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