So Many Things Have Happened

I know the thing that is in your head. Did I ever complete #booktubeathon? Did I win?

Uh. I wish it were so. I wish I could shout from the rooftops, steeped in the glory of victory, that I had won. But I only read two books.

I AM AS MUCH A FAILURE AS HE IS.

Fortunately, the two books I read were books that, having been unread all this time, were wearing dustcoats. Not cute. And I'm so happy that they were both wonderful.

I read this. FINALLY. OH MY GOD FINALLY. It has taken me about eight months to read this book and it wasn't because it was awful. Oh, nothing of the kind. But it's so tortuously slow it's impossible to gulp down in one sitting, try as I might have.

I didn't loooove this book, though I wanted to. Seriously, it wasn't a lack for trying. But I just love the movies soooo much more, that certain aspects of the book could not overcome the amazing quality of the movie. The takes the director took, the lines he moved around. The movie is perfection. What made me enjoy the book was the in-depth look into the world Tolkien had created, the history behind the characters and their families. Learning those tidbits gave me the feeling of reading a history book I'm fond of.

So, in all, 3.5 stars for The Fellowship of the Ring.

And then this badass came into my life and YES. YES YES YES TO ALL OF THIS.

Why did I wait so long to start this series? I honestly have no fucking idea. It's so profound without being obnoxious about it. The characters have so much DAZZLING INTELLECT like Sherlock and Moriarty. I loved the idea of two opposing characters, one on the hunt for the other. I loved the unraveling of beliefs so solid and true until now, the depth of emotional investment in each character, the intriguing direction of the mysterious plot. ALL OF IT WAS SO SO GOOD.

PERSONALLY I HATE ADVENTURE TIME BUT THIS IS SO RIGHT. 

For this bout of action-packed delightfulness and sly, treacherous goodness, 4 stars.

So, though I was not victorious.. of a kind. I feel a little bit victorious. Because I completed two books that should've gotten read ages ago. Somebody give me my accolades, because

 I HAD THIS. I think I still #win. Don't you?

2014 #BOOKTUBEATHON - Because who isn't excited?

No, not another booktubeathon TBR...

Because, like, no one is participating this year. Are you? 'Cause shit's about to GO DOWN.

The Last Best Kiss - Claire LaZebnik

Claire, why is your last name so unfortunate? Every time I'd like to recommend this book to the hearing, I stop myself because I hate tripping over my own tongue and sounding like the fool I most probably am but no one need know. Go to the last name factory and pick a new one, please. For my sake, goodness!

And that, my friends, is MOST of the negative I have re: this book. Because when I take out my label maker, I'm slamming an 'ADORBS' sticker on it. It pulls away from being disgustingly, sugary sweet and is just plain feels-good-when-you-snuggle sweet.

On my last major expedition to The Big Guy - aka Barnes & Noble and not God and I almost made a crack about Barnes & Noble being a god but that felt sacrilegious even to my unbaptized soul so I couldn't do it... Why don't we start over? I shall dub thee Barnes and Noble The Big Barn instead. Yes. Yes, I like that. It makes me giggle *giggle*. So anyway, the last time I'd gone apeshit in the aisles of The Big Barn, The Last Best Kiss was not supposed to make it into my cart. . .. Bahaha. No, that's not right. The Big Barn doesn't have carts because they're not there yet in advance technology.

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FUNNY
BUT INSTEAD SHE LOOKS POSSESSED. MY BAD. 

And why am I so rambly this afternoon? ANYWAY.

The Last Best Kiss looked nice and sweet and harmless like that guy you had a lovely first date with but never called again. So, yeah I imagined myself having a cheery time with it but if push came to shove-out-the-books-in-my-hand-because-oops-no-money I wasn't keeping it. Then that moment came at checkout where I had to decide and my mom so graciously bought it for me to save me from the hard decisions in life. I thought, well that's good and all but this better be bloody worth the expense of my mother's blood money.

AND IT WAS. She's very pleased.

In The Last Best Kiss, Anna made a huge mistake freshman year (then again, what freshmen didn't? *shifty eyes*). No, she didn't get pregnant. But she may have invited herself into one of the narrower circles of hell for humiliating the most adorably enthusiastic, passionate boy I wish had been among the flock in MY school. A boy who proudly displayed cool or beautiful pictures he'd found on the internet during car pool. A boy who was never ashamed of who he was. A boy who held Anna's hand by the sea. A boy who liked Anna for Anna. And she let him go. After denying his role in her life (boyfriend) to her friends, her family, and the rest of the general public, after rejecting his sweet, risky approach at the school dance, Finn Westbrook disappears without a word.

 Well, you can guess what happens next.

AS IF. HE'S ONLY SEVENTEEN.

But seriously tho, Finn comes back looking like a much more filled out, sexy self than the gawky, adorbs teen remembered from the beginning of Anna's story. And, oh it's both painful and reassuring to see him again. But, as to be expected, he does not hold out his waiting arms to the remorseful Anna awaiting his return. No, instead he's polite but distant and I DID NOT BLAME HIM.

I loved that this story was hard. It was hard to be completely pissed at Anna, because you get it. You get that high school is a jungle, hell, a shark pit, etc. and it's DIFFICULT so it's easy to want to blend. But you get Finn too because he was too cool for school and didn't give a shit about what people thought in a disarmingly non-agressive way. In a casual, I like myself so THERE way. In the best way, frankly.

So I cheered for them like a maniac. Because in the end I wanted them to understand each other and where they were coming from back then and to make peace with it. More, I wanted them to want each other despite all that jazz.

There's a #ship in the harbor people. GET ON IT.

The ending could've been better, but whatevs. I'm over it. (Last of the negative.)

The Last Best Kiss is the kind of book that makes you wonderfully warm, comforted by the knowledge that some things just work out wonderfully despite all obstacles. You know, that love conquers all semi-bullshit. Sometimes, #lovejustwins.

rating: 3.5 stars

Endurance (#1.5) - Ann Aguirre

Yeah, I'm still not over the Enclave tril. Didn't everybody get over this phase in 2013? Feel free to chuck a banana at me, because I'M SO LATE to the pep rally.

It's so funny because I'm in the midst of No Place Like Oz by Danielle Paige, another novella I was so excited to read, but because of how much I enjoyed my panties off while reading this and Destroy Me, I can't get freaking excited about it anymore.

Compared to the action-packed, malicious dystopian goodness I've just experienced, No Place Like Oz doesn't have a chance, blast it!

To the basics we tread, and let us begin!

Endurance is the in-between place you're meant to discover before you go forth to Outpost, the next book in the series. It follows the events after Deuce is exiled from the enclave (not a spoiler, I checked, dammit!) cuz #reasons and now all hell is poised to break loose due to internal conflict spurred by the unfair judgement passed against our favorite Huntress. And right in the sights of this ill fate soon to come, are Deuce's two best friends, Stone and Thimble—just how are a Breeder and a Builder going to survive what comes next?

Reading this was such a lovely coincidence and even I'M amazed as to how much I adored this novella. But it speaks to all my favorite things—dire, world-ending dilemmas, survival of the fittest stuff, budding romance between friends, and a second perspective on tragedies we know to have happened.

"Miss Thimble," a brat said timidly.
"Yes?"
"Why did the world end?"

Now I could sit here and tell you in great detail how much I loved the ominous air that permeated the internal fighting going on within the enclave leading to its combustion, how much I loved the direction in which Aguirre took this novella so that it connects with what I'm sure I'll find out more on later. I could tell you all that. But I don't need to, because that's the minor stuff, dude.

What I really, really loved was Stone and Thimble.

SIDE NOTE: ONE OF THE BEST GIFS OF LIFE.

I've been at the helm of this ship for years now and didn't even know it. At least, I don't think I knew it. But my brain can be mischeivous like that.

Anyway, CAN YOU BLAME ME?

Here you have two people who've been told their whole lives that they're good for the only purpose they serve within the enclave—they're not allowed to have ideas, to want things beyond what they're given, and be anything more than what they're designated—and the only other people who believe differently are each other. That faith in one another's capabilities is already designed in their friendship, a friendship that goes way back, you know how it is.

And though they want to break free of the mold outfitted for them since they were youngins, even they wouldn't know how. Until they're coerced by survival and tragedy.

Someone else lunged at him, and he reacted. With one thrust, he killed a girl, a Huntress, who'd come up in Deuce's class. Her throat yielded to his knife like the meat he cut for the brats, and hot blood poured over his fingers. Her body plopped, and another Hunter rushed at him.
Why won't they stop? What's the point?
Stone wept as he fought until his arms were heavy and he smelled nothing but burnt meat and despair.

I loved seeing the distress this caused them, this break in the mold, how it breaks them apart before they can rebuild as something other, new. And how they rely on each other as they mend on the go.

"You're the only person who ever asked my opinion on anything. Now or then."
"You make me feel like a whole person."

And when she replies something as simple as,

"Me too," she whispered.

I FELT it. I felt the connection between this gorgeous guy used for, not his mind, his strength, but his body alone and this girl with such a complex against her misshapen foot she worked that much harder than everyone else to stay alive, to stay wanted. The only constant all this time has been each other, because no one has had more love and faith in the other than them. *rubs heart*

(That was pretty good, wasn't it? *grins* I feel smug about that last sentence.)

Will I be reading Outpost soon? Who can say. Well, other than me, haha.

All I know is that it was well worth the trip to get a glimpse at happiness found by two awesome paper people.

rating: 4 stars

Unravel Me - Tahereh Mafi

*HYSTERICAL KEYBOARD-BANGING GOES HERE*

THERE'S A PARTY IN MY BODY BUT YOU'RE NOT INVITED
'CAUSE THAT'S WEIRD.

Okay. OKAY. Serious face. Must find the serious face and slap it on because I need to be 98% coherent to possibly review this impossibly awesome book.

It almost makes me mad how late to the bandwagon I am. I'm like, DUDE WHY. WHY DID YOU WAIT? But the other part of me is like, BRO. YOU KNOW WHY. And I do. I do know why.

I couldn't stomach going into the next part of this series without some assurance that I would be satisfied. So I waited. I bided my time, circling the buzz like a vulture considering it's next early morning course. And then got pissed as other vultures swooped in and had a big heaping helping after which they proceeded through their day with a smug little grin. Now vulture mad.

Wow.

That was a terrible analogy. Or a hysterical one. I'm not sure yet.

But I hated how happy people were after reading the next book. And then all
I
kept
seeing
was
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO. SIXTY-TWO. OMAFDFKPL SIXTY-TWO.

And DAMMIT. This made me EVEN MORE MAD.

But, oh-ho, I so get it now. In fact, I'm going to piss you people off who haven't read it.

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO, MOTHATUCKHERINTOBED.

But, LEGIT THO I loved all the other bits of this second sequel. It gave me Juliette's transition, or lack thereof, after we left her in Shatter Me. How's homegirl doing, I wondered. Is she a superhero now? Are there tights?

Of course I had forgotten there were already tights involved. But I'm down.

I loved that Juliette was still scared and silent and unsure of where she belonged. And even as she became more and more aware of her need to FIGHT the bad people, she didn't lose that insecurity all together. Instead, she began accepting it as part of her and learning to control it. Because we're human and we got flaws and shit and Juliette knows this.

Even more importantly? I got to know Kenji. Like, seriously got to know him, and I GET IT. I get people's obsession with him. Hell, I get MY obsession with him. Can I be invited to his birthday party now?

AND I MEAN IT. I LOVE HIM TOO, BOO-BOO.

And doubly important? WARNER. Peanut butter Juliette and Warner time.

Man, I can't *places hand on forehead*. I simply cannot. You know, it was fun when it was just hormones and sappy feelings between Adam and Juliette. But all this deep stuff between Warner and Juliette? I'm not equipped for the level-spike in my emotions.

"This blond boy has my secrets in his mouth."

And I loved that he did. I love that it was HIM who understood her, how deep her hate and fears and darkness went and how he loved her for her light but he never wanted her to forget that she was more than a sweet, timid girl. I loved how he pushed her and expected her to take it.

If I could GIVE YOU all of the amazing quotes that are in Unravel Me I'd either be sued or burned at the stake. So I'd rather you read it and tell me I'm wrong.

Tell me you don't feel adoration for this kind monster-girl. The one everybody hates. The one everybody fears. The one meant for so much more than she realizes. And the boys that touch her soul and other parts hahaha. And the thoughts she doesn't want us to know but we see anyway. The friends she makes and the power she wields beside them.

I CAN'T.

I unregretfully stare at my alarm clock because though it says 4:00am, I don't care. It is worth every single second of pain that I feel in waking later on until soy-vanilla-chai-frappy goodness hits my system.

It's just plain worth everything you've got. Anything you have to give to read it.

rating: 4 stars

Destroy Me - Tahereh Mafi

If Merlin had looked into the Crystal Cave on my behalf and explained to me that I would not only fall in love with a book told in Warner's perspective but that it would also be the first book I would really review on my new blog... Well, I'd tell Merlin to stick to prophesying Arthur's future though that didn't always turn out so fun either.

So much has changed since I read Shatter Me back in December of 2011. I'm not even really sure if I'd love it with the same blind adoration I held for it three years ago. Has it really been three years? All the characters but Juliette are shadows in the back of my memory, and so maybe that's why it was so easy for me to look upon Warner in a much softer light. His dark deeds and the swoon-worthy elements of Adam have long since left my fickle brain, so that when I read my review of Shatter Me I fail to truly remind myself of all the lovable components of Mafi's story. IT'S BEEN THREE CRAPPING YEARS.

Destroy Me reminded me. Took great pains to remind me. In just a few pages in this new perspective, I remembered the stunning pain of Mafi's words and their ability to render me useless to the outside world.

It was obvious to me that Warner had some problems that potentially needed hammering out in intense family therapy, but it never occurred to me to feel badly for him.

But he was wrecked at a young age and like most there was no way for him to anticipate the collision, or the lasting damage.

"...Never forget that man you so eagerly serve is the same man who taught me how to fire a gun when I was nine years old."

He is viewed as cold and heartless and demented (that was my input) but he's bulding walls in [his] mind again. White walls. Blocks of concrete. Empty rooms and open space. Nothing exists inside of [him]. Nothing stays. Because

His hand shifts; lingers at my collarbone.
White walls, I think.
Blocks of concrete.
Empty rooms. Open space.
Nothing exists inside of me. Nothing stays.
His hand closes around my throat.

How

How can you remain ignorant of his torment then? How could I be stubborn enough to resent him his cunning manner, his obsessions, his mistakes when there's a real person suffering, dying inside? I could only do that without justification. And Destroy Me is Warner's justification. He asks for no sympathy, no pitying looks, doesn't beg anyone to see him, help him. But he has reason to act the way he does, cope the way he does, and that was how Destroy Me succeeded where Shatter Me failed.

Because it was a failure to paint Warner as a one-dimensional villain.

Now I understand how people could possibly be "Team Warner." I kept wanting to shout, GUYS. HE IS THE BAD MAN. But, oh, how it makes so much sense now. Why the idea of a romance between Juliet and Warner has such sway.

Warner understands her tormented days, the thoughts of the creature their society had reduced her to. And watching him feel for her convinced me more than a thousand of Adam's kisses.

I knock the notebook to the floor.
I'm upright in an instant, trying to steady my heart. I run a hand through my hair, my fingers caught at the roots. These words are too close to me, too familiar. The story of a child abused by its parents. Locked away and discarded. It's too close to my mind.
I've never read anything like this before. I've never read anything that could speack to directly to my bones. And I know I shouldn't. I know, somehow, that it won't help, that it won't teach me anything, that it won't give me clues about where she might've gone. I already know that reading this will only make me crazy.
But I can't stop myself from reaching for her journal once more.

And little by little, as he pieces together Juliette's days in the asylum, he doesn't realize how wrong he is. That her journal does help, does teach him something. Her words are acid raining down on his steel walls, opening him to a state of vulnerability, taking him to places he wouldn't otherwise dare tread for fear of resembling weakness. And this slow unraveling of his invulnerable facade is mesmerizing.

I can't control the easy laughter that escapes my lips; I don't want to. I haven't felt like laughing in so long. And I can't help but be amazed at the power such small, unassuming animals wield over us; they so easily break down our defenses.

All I want now from this story is to find hope for Warner in the end. And that hope for Warner's salvation is the only thing in three years that has made me want to continue to Unravel Me. The only thing.

rating: 4.5ish stars

Shameful Saturday - 'Reviewlettes!' re: Books I Done Read

Because realistically who could last a post without being inspired by this #BAMF lady over at Books I Done Read? See this post's inspiration here and you will fail to keep your shit together after you've GONE THERE.

*brandishes sunglasses* MHM GURL.

 I just wanted to take the time to be frank about some things before I started ACTUALLY reviewing books on here. I will not be reviewing All The Books.

Sometimes it is just not possible. The books are too awesome. Too cheesy. Too horrible to spend real time justifying my feelings to you people.

But.

I don't mind taking small moments such as these to briefly touch upon them, should I be so inclined.

Murder of Crows by Anne Bishop

*smashes keyboard in excitement* YOU GUYS DON'T EVEN KNOW. I've tried googling different expressions of supreme excitement that I had hoped would help convey my gratitude and joy over this book.

First off, I love this series.

Like, FBOMB adore it. Like, Human Law Does Not Apply to how much I FBOMB adore it/love it.

It blends the perfect amount character development and world-building and paranormal and,

IT'S SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL, BRO.

 With that said, I just don't know how to properly convey my undying affection for this phenomenal work. And basically I'm just covering my own 'tocks in that I don't remember in detail all of the many reasons why I loved this second book even more than the first. The feelings I bear still are more visceral, and I'm going to stop piling up #reasons.

Ride With Me by Ruthie Knox

I've recently begun an epic love affair with Ruthie Knox. It's all due to another very divine lady by the name of Angie who has turned me onto many a delightful thing in the past.

What makes Ruthie so special is how she capitalizes on the characters' emotions to further each other and the plot. Does that make sense? I'm not sure. But it did in my head.

She beautifully tangles together two people who've moved on from shitty pasts in different ways illustrated by their love and interpretation of the same book. THAT right there was enough to sell me on Ruthie for a lifetime. 

And I don't have enough of Ruthie's words to describe how AWESOME this book is.

Losing It by Cora Carmack

In the case of Losing It, I'm marginally embarrassed by how much I delighted in this cute read. It's so... I don't want to say overdone, but half the time it feels like a virgin's fantasy. A sweet panty-dropper if that's possible.

Which is why I was grinning and softening and reveling in all of the romance and mishaps and humor that went into this book.

Still it doesn't spring enough to mind to have me sit here and go into detail as to why I enjoyed this lovely unicorn.

So It Rains On 4th of July - Is That Even Allowed?

After crash-landing in the oh-so-appealing dreamless void conjured by couch, cushion, and unholy night I woke to the discomfort of having restrained my urine until 4am.

Disoriented,

I hobbled my way over to the porcelain altar I spent ten minutes worshiping, only to return to the familiar face-smashing position I had assumed earlier in the night.

I awoke again at 10:45am strangely unfulfilled. And that's when it dawned on me that I once again fell asleep through the ending of Fellowship of the Ring (this had been my third attempt at correcting the issue) and there will be no fussing over the fact that THAT'S how I typically spend all of my nights my Thursday nights.

BECAUSE SRSLY IS IT ANY OF YOUR BUSINESS HOW I DO?

Followed by the requisite re-hashing of the twenty-five minutes I missed—

"Be at peace son of Gondor..." 

"I wish the ring had never come to me... So do all who live to see such times..." 

"I made a promise, Mr. Frodo. A promise..."

"Let's hunt some Orc."

—I kind of lurked around my house until I noticed people waking.

Once The Motherbot deigned to join the Land of the Waking Bored, she kindly offered to feed us nutritional substance.

BECAUSE REALLY HOW COULD ONE CHOCOLATE CHIP PANCAKE BE ENOUGH?

Which promptly gave me gas. And that, hobbitses, is when I should've realized it was all going to go downhill from there.

My best friend proceeded to cancel our plans to go to the carnival-fair-hybrid-thing-we-were-going-to-so-we-had-plans-like-real-people because it was prophesied to rain.

And then it did.

And it hasn't stopped. It is now 3:30pm and it is still raining.

And I can't decide what to read in the absence of actual people plans.

Then I glanced at my TV and it was accidentally on a channel that allowed The Conjuring to conquer the screen, at which point I was like, "Whoa, horsie, no!" and rushed my television set.

This is really my first post.

My, oh, my. What shall be done?