This story shuttered my most recent reading-avoidant streak. It’s been happening more lately, that I stop putting off my responsibilities with comfort/leisure reading; I hate it.
I had a teeny rollercoaster of a ride reading this book. At first, I was enthralled. I love anything set in NYC. Plus a romance? Plus concerts and the romantic feeling of what I’ll call, but is not actually, the New York underground? Seeing the names of a few of my favorite places, or just places that are married to specific memories was fun—a tickle of enjoyment.
I struggled a bit with the star-crossed fated to fail vibe. I didn’t feel that this was emotionally volatile enough to catch me in its crosshairs and drag me along, heart and hand to hell. However, as I continued reading, I began to respect that it was a character study of sorts. I enjoyed reading romance in which the characters are quintessentially themselves; equivalent to their younger selves, even at an older age ages. Still vibrant, just more complex. We don’t hear stories like this and I’ve been arriving at this conclusion, that you remain who you are cool/boring/vibrant/intriguing for as long as you want to, age be damned.
I also struggled a bit with not feeling that the characters were not the sexiest. Not them as people, but their specifically “supposed-to-be-sexy” dialogue, and descriptions of those intimate scenes kind of took me out of it. However, I appreciated that there was a distance because, tying back to my ability to remain at an arms length and study these two flawed, well-meaning, adorable people.
Sorry for the bastardization of this comparison, but one could say this is almost like Normal People all grown up, for girls who read that book as a teenager and are now…well, a bit more grown up.
I adored the children. Although, really they are adults. Practically, literally, whatever. They made the story for me. These two precious creatures that were inevitable and made each parent’s respective history inevitable—the failures and successes of their relationships inevitable. Because I suppose as a loving parent, that is how you begin to see and process everything—through the lens of your kid.
It definitely romanticized the idea of having children in a way, because I love the idea of watching these humans live a life more earnestly than you might have been/felt at their age. Also the idea of these profound moments of reflection that come from observing these people so much like you, and yet not at all the same, have realizations that prove expansive for you too. I never had and likely never will have a relationship with my parents that is like this. I don’t think most of my friends do either. So it is a pipe dream in a way that even if I were to have a child, every human is different and you cannot force a relationship even with your own kin/creation.
Five stars from me! Thank you NetGalley & 831 Stories for the ARC. Every time I am allowed another one I feel so honored and extremely grateful because I know I am in for something good.