a good author is like a good therapist, they do wonders for you, and lucky I found both...but..
What the fuck?!
WHAT.THE.ACTUAL.FUCK?!
This is some seriously intricately beautiful shit. And I love it.
So, the last two books I've read have been a bit bland yeah? And I was so excited to get my hands on this one (I travelled and hour and a half away to get it!) anyway...where was I?
Oh yea, so, the last two books I've read kinda left me feeling despondent...I wanted so badly to really get into them, but after a while it felt like I was dragging on...I'm not sure if it's coz of work or I'm lazy or they just weren't good books, I dunno...and to be honest, I love reading, but opening another book kinda felt like...when you're stuck in a life rut and nothing can shake you out of it.
But then something does.
And it's like fire in your chest, fireworks in the sky...you could jump up and down from finally finding something that gets you back into things and gets you excited and makes you happy.
That was this book for me.
It's little, well, not little, but about 200 pages is short for me, I like my books with booty, ya know what I'm saying? But the size doesn't diminish the story (I've been told size doesn't always matter, good lesson to learn *wink wink*)
Anyway...
I took my time with this, I only read little bits at a time because I knew if I read more, it would steamroll me and I'd never go back to work...but I just couldn't take it anymore, and today, I had to pull myself away to go back to work for two and a half hours before I could read the rest.
And, as predicted, it takes a hold of you and runs you the fuck over. And it's glorious.
Can we talk about Sophie for a second?! What a bad arse, she is exactly like me, in terms of shyness and I love her. She's larger than life once you get to know her. Though, dirty Neil...mate, I would've glassed you a lot earlier, but that's violence and I hear that's frowned upon, so I would've put a cockroach on your drink or something.
And our dear love interest...I think he was the only part of the book that sort of...bothered me...he just breezes in, like "I'm here bitches, get used to it" who does that?! No "hey, how are you" or "I'm gonna be your knight in shining armour" just "oh, changed my mind, I've decided I want to be in your life, deal with it" nuh uh, boy, I would've smacked the shit outta you...and then maybe kissed you.
Im shit scared of ghosts, so if eve rocked up in my bedroom, there is no way she would've gotten anything but a Broadway musical.
Daughtry, there was an American rock band named that, but otherwise...the hell are you? I can't figure it out...he's a ghost yeah? Or is he legit an actual person that has some sweet break and enter skills?
and the bikers, I was so enthralled that I completely forgot, but then somewhere towards the end when Sophie was being attacked, I almost yelled out in rage on a train packed with strangers...I believe the words "those bastards" emitted from my mouth. I must've said it with such rage, because the poor little Asian woman next to me looked sacred for her life...couldn't get off the train and away from me fast enough.
And back to my original point...the fuck?! The ending is left there?! WHAT?! It's like the early seasons of every supernatural cliffhanger, you get so unbelievably pissed off that the writers ended it there. But being a sucker for punishment, you know you're going to go back for more...
But seriously, THAT'S WHERE IT ENDED?! What is this sorcery?! There had better be a sequel or something, otherwise there's gonna be a one woman riot in the aisles of dymocks.
I swear, Rebecca is this magical little writer fairy that just KNOWS how to be awesome and write things that I need to read.
This book is awesome, and I love it so. Hell, anything Rebecca writes is brilliant... Because she knows how to tell a story, and a damn good one. Her books are always intricate,and woven so wonderfully together...if there are only two Australian authors that you ever read in your life, make it Rebecca limited and John Marsden.
Loved it. Seriously.