Review by Kimmi:
I am in complete and utter awe of the sheer rarity and substantial style of storytelling that Hunter S. Jones bestows upon me everytime I am gifted the chance to fall in love not only with the story her beautiful, rich and colorful words create, but the deep and complex characters she brings to life with her written word, characters that leave you to scream at their injustices, weep while their souls fall into absolute despair, and cheer with a full fluttering heart when happiness takes away all the dark blackness that was once seeping from their pores. This was on a literary level a story that truly is what legends are made of, a story that is so out of its fellow genre novels realm, it is both before it's time yet historic all in the same breath, word, sentence. It is so unlike any book I have read, that at first glance my inner smut whore that reads the same formula of the same book over and over winced at the beginning. I thought "Dear lord Hunter, what have you done. This will never work love. It is impossible." By page fifty Ms. Jones had me eating my own thoughts, swallowing whole my words of disbelief. This ART, this form of story telling, goes against everything we know. We've only seen it in history books, that tell us it's great because it's great. However because history has told us it is great and it is known to us by pop culture retelling it in a more main stream manner, we never really understand what history means by greatness. However after I finished the last chapter of September Ends I FINALLY grasped what the teachers wanted me to see....in Dickinson, Wilde, Frost, Bronte and Shakespeare. Where thiers were words I've heard all my life Hunter S. Jones words in September Ends are not, her words are new, words unread and unheard by the masses but the immensity, intensity of them make them just as infinite. To say my smut whore shut her trap is an understatement. Her eyes widened in astonishment and she hung on to every word from page fifty on. I've never seen her like that, she shut the fuck up and sat back, immersing herself into the story, ladies and gentlemen, my smut whore who hasn't ever known love, fell head over hills in love with Liz, Charles, Pete, Jack, Malachy, Spider and even Mrs. T. She, my smut whore, and my conscious self, Kim, we just sat and cried after the last word on the last page was read, we watched as it blurred, then the kindle went dark and we just wept together. We wept not only because September Ends was over, but also was the feeling of witnessing history and future unfold together in a story making it so grandeur that it is with out beginning and with out end, also a story that we both winced at and called impossible. Hunter I would say thank you, I really want to say it, but I cannot at this moment. I know later when I am not fresh into the heartache and book hangover I've just fallen into that I will be able to Thank you. As for now all I have for you is DAMN you woman, you not only took away my sleep last night, and this day, but you have left me royally fucked up, yet humbled in awe of the art form you passed off as a story. Kudos woman, you've left me on my knees.September Ends gets a goddamn Kimmi Oscar nod of 10, yep read 'em and weep TEN (never done that before, check the record books) 10-This isn't a book, isn't a story, it's fucking history in the making- Kimmi Stars **********