I know I'm in a bit of a minority here in both books and film: I love a good ruminating, pensive, self-reflective kind of read. I love character studies and details of people's interactions based in reality. I like films full of conversations and ideas. Perhaps that's why I love Sally Rooney's novels. In fact, the last line of this book reminded me so much of the last line of my favorite film of all time, could I do nothing but love it?

This novel is told from the point of view of Frances, an Irish college student and poet. She has a best friend/ex-girlfriend named Bobbi with whom she performs her poetry and they befriend a journalist and her actor husband. Frances observes the people in her life; at times she's trying to fit herself in a box, understand what kind of personality she has. Many of her thoughts are meanderings I recognized from my youth, and they made me laugh. It also made me think of Didion--"Was anyone ever so young?"--so you see more evidence of what led me to love this novel.

I'm glad I didn't read many reviews or thoughts before diving in; I've seen so many people call it boring, full of trite characters, a nothing-much-happens kind of story. But this book is not for everyone. There was a recognition there for me, for a time in my life in which I grappled, and I'm glad I never published those thoughts into the world (though my old LiveJournal would beg to differ). I'm happy Sally Rooney is here, capturing that beautiful and sometimes banal inner monologue of youth in her pretty prose.