I never realized

I was a HEA person. I mean, I like happily ever afters just like the next person, but I didn’t realize I sometimes needed it.

I just finished a book that left me wanting to throw my tablet out the window. On the ice. So it can break into a million pieces.

Some guy said something like: “Writing is not to let people read but to make them feel”.

Ah.  Here it is:

Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader – not the fact that it is raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.
EL Doctorow

at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/e/e_l_doctorow.html#u3M0bdThIXWBSRLq.99

This is it. This book made me feel. Like, everything. Their love, their troubles, the beauty of their relationship.

At 80% in the book, I wanted to write to the author to let him know how much I enjoyed his writing. The images he creates with words are so real, poignant, honest and true you can’t help but be impressed. I was saying to myself: “Well perfection’s been done, so I might as well quit writing altogether”.

Then WHAM! Like an old Batman episode. POW! And another hit to the gut. At about 90% the story just crumbles. One minute they’re fine the next their life as they know it is over. And I mean over. I skimmed the ending just because I couldn’t bear to read it. I just couldn’t.  No HEA here.

Now I want to write the author to give him shit for putting his characters and his readers through so much fucking pain. I mean, come on! This is the closest I’ve ever been to crying over a book! I NEVER cry! Ever.

Fuck. I guess he did a good job. His book moved me like no other in a long, long time.

No matter. I’m still mad at him. So there.

 

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