The greatest grace of this book is its lyrical prose, the beauty and elegance with which it describes everything from landscapes to love and passion. The Patroclus POV works very well, because through his adoring eyes Achilles is portrayed as nigh-godlike, while still so /human/ - which is exactly what he is. Still, I have beef with the book - some of the expressions were downright odd (and Miller is strangely fixated on fingers and thumbs). I wasn't fond of the creative license she took with the original myth, either. Not Patroclus and Achilles' love - but rather things like forcing in the Abusive Father™ backstory for Patroclus; Thetis being hateful and scornful of humans; Achilles' disdain and cruelty toward poor Deidameia. They're...valid interpretations, I suppose, but I didn't like them much. There was also a lot of random switching between tenses, which was confusing and unexplained. Madeline Miller also chose to ignore the entire Achilles' Heel business, and has Achilles shot in the /back/. I did not understand why, and it didn't sit well with me, I mean, the Achilles Heel is LEGENDARY!
Overall, I liked the The Song of Achilles, and I see its value and can understand where it gets its fame and fanbase. It just wasn't quite for me. I got exactly what I expected, and it was a nice enough experience, but I don't think I'll read it again. However, I do recommend it to anyone who expects a more modern twist as opposed to a faithful novelization of the age-old legend. You will probably like it more than I!

All the good things you've heard about this play are true. Smarter people than I have reviewed it, so let's leave it to them - it's enough for me to say that I really enjoyed it. I'd love to see it live, someday.

Read this to practice my french, and it was just what I expected - sounded JUST like something you'd read in a french textbook for seventh graders. I suppose that's what it's meant to do, though - WHY AM I REVIEWING THIS I-

Harshly real and thought-provoking, The Sport of the Gods is an important story about displacement, vice and injustice. Definitely don't pick it up for light reading, but don't expect some philosophical beauty-for-ashes Great American Novel. The Sport of the Gods is a simple story with a not-as-simple message, and the weight it carries is as significant today as ever it was. As can be said of any groundbreaking story, this novel - one of the first to depict the gritty struggles of ghetto life - takes on a rather pedagogical air at times. But anyone who discredits it for this has clearly not understood the significance of what they have just read.

Ahh, old sci-fi. I have such mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, it fascinates me, and I /adore/ retro futurism. But on the other hand, finishing one of these books usually leaves me feeling so...depressed? I have no idea why.
The same was true of The Time Machine. I really liked it - the futuristic world of 802701 felt so...alien, but at the same time, REAL. It felt credible, which is the mark of quality sci-fi. Certain descriptive bits sounded pretentious and pseudoscientific but hey, it was a different time by far, and I'm no scientist myself, so take me with a pinch of salt.
In spite of its age, The Time Machine also avoided and even called out certain sci-fi cliches and tropes, which surprised me, and I REALLY APPRECIATED. Overall, it's quality literature and definitely worth the read. The whole thing just made me feel miserable though.Vintage sci-fi tends to have that effect on me, for some reason. *reads it anyway*

The world of The Night Circus is lush, mysterious, playful, and above all - magical. I won't say I wasn't able to put the book down, for i was; but only after reading a hundred pages at a time. I didn't really want this story to end, but its ending was nevertheless as satisfying as I could have hoped.
In spite of its dark undertones, the world of the circus felt inviting. It felt like...well, a /world/, yes, a mystical world all its own, something I could leave and enter at will. At once friendly and unsettling, it was dreamlike, ever alive, and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute I spent in it.
Erin Morgenstern writes evocatively, enchanting the reader through the skill of her style as well as the imagination behind everything it describes. The Night Circus is a feast for all the senses, populated by characters you'll genuinely care for and want to know more about. My only complaint is that I wanted /more/ of Marco and Celia. The fact that there aren't as many fluffy love scenes as you'd expect from a romance novel makes sense, given the nature of their relationship and how it came to be. I understand that, but...agh, a girl can dream, can't she?

As much fun as always. Matilda really is and ought to be a classic of children's literature. And I /love/ that Matilda gets away from her abusive family instead of some bullshit forgiveness plotline. Matilda and Miss Honey are both abuse survivors and they both /get out/ and live happily and AGH! Bless you for writing this, Roald Dahl.

Aaaaaaa.
I can hardly feel. It hurts.
So, because I really don't know what to do with myself now, here you have my thoughts on the book. I'm not about to say it's a "deeply relevant" story that "tactfully handles a delicate subject" - because if you're looking for reviews, you're probably thinking of buying it, in which case you've already read the synopsis - in which case, all that is redundant.
Instead, I'm going to tell you what it was like to read All The Bright Places.
Finch says something interesting at one point in the book, something that really resonates with me: "it's not lying if it's how you feel". Which, I think, sums up the impression this story left on me. At heart, it's a moving mass of great, genuine emotion that seeps through everything - yeah, even the mandatory YA romance cheesiness. It's honest, and real, under what looks like yet another "deep" novel for teens. Of course, it's to be commended for the accuracy and grace with which it depicts ...huh...a great deal of things, actually - but many times I found myself thinking "well, that's ever so sweet and aesthetic, but it just isn't realistic, that wouldn't happen in real life, right?" Well, maybe I /was/ right. Maybe it's a cute lie.
Or maybe not.
Maybe it's not lying if it's how you feel.
See, understanding where Niven was coming from while writing this is important. Understanding what her book WANTS to convey is important. It's by no means a masterpiece, but it made me feel things. And, I mean, isn't that what art, in any of its countless forms, is supposed to do?