Sigh. I kind of hate it when books make me cry. But in a good way. It means it got underneath my skin.
Of course, my husband might argue that I sometimes cry at really sappy commercials, but I’m going to ignore that. After all, he’s a mathematician and statistician. What does he know?
I’m trying to read more local (i.e. UK) authors now that I live over here in London. Some time ago I bought Cat Clarke‘s Entangled and I chat with her on Twitter (where she’s quite fab and undoubtedly cooler than I am). Been meaning to read it for ages and finally got around to it.
Great book. You should go read it right now. But have a supply of tissues. I love Grace’s voice in the book. She’s strong but weak and often blind to the truth, but she tries really hard. She wants to do the right thing. Desperately. Too often she believes she’s the person that she sees reflected in the eyes of the boys who take advantage of her.
Haven’t we all been there.
Well, okay, I haven’t exactly been where Grace is (thank goodness) but the spirit is the same. That’s what I like about books like Cat’s. They’re honest and heart wrenching and so so true. Some feelings are universal.
As an aside…even after living here for some months, there are still so many things I have to translate in my head as I read. Biros. Scarpering. English is just different over here. And I may never get used to the extra “u’s” that are all over the place.
Entangled also reminds me that I need to be meaner to Aria, the main character in my current manuscript. I am always entirely too kind in the first draft (*puts on my mean pants*).
Off to write!