I Want My Life Back, Holly Black

So, I read this book. It is a book I may or may not have read on my own, but we chose it for book club (yes, we are old ladies who knit and drink tea whilst talking about Jane Austen. You know you’re jealous) and my sisters both told me it was great. I was lured in by promises of epic writing and alternate reality Jace (I don’t know what this means, but I NEVER saw him!) and I began to read. If you're looking for a more descriptive review check this out http://thecornernotes.blogspot.com/

This is what I thought:

(Please be aware, spoilers may be contained in the coming text, you may want to avert your eyes)

White Cat let me down. Yes, it was well written and the plot kept you guessing and the characters were diverting. All in all, an exemplary novel. But I was disappointed by the story.

Nothing good ever happened to a single character in the entirety of the novel. You might find this hard to believe, but it’s true. Chapter after chapter, Cassel (the main character for those who have no idea what I’m talking about) revealed one more horrific thing that had happened to him or that he had done. And there was nothing you could to but watch the train head toward the cliff and pray that somebody would pull the emergency break in time. I kept reading because I was convinced that something good had to happen to SOMEONE, and at the end, Holly Black dangles the coveted carrot in front of you and says ‘Here’s your reward. Enjoy.’

I grabbed the thing with both hands, but upon closer inspection realized that it was rotten and nothing but a dirty trick.

Don’t ask me what I was thinking. I’ve read Holly Black before, I should have known better. The thing is I wanted to be fooled. I wanted to read something that was poetic and thrilling and beautiful and ended well. I was conned.

The thing is, I’m sick of having to choose between reading books that engage you with the writing, but leaving you with a story that makes you want to smash the book into a thousand pieces (literary fiction), or books that have an okay story, okay writing and a happy ending (romance novels or chick lit). I’m tired of people looking down their nose at me because I like Twilight, but if I said Wuthering Heights was my fave, that would be perfectly okay, admirable even.

I read those novels because they are full of love, and I believe in love, mostly because I have to believe in something. But White Cat made me want to believe nothing at all.

I wanted to throw this book at the wall, go hide in my room and cry. Honestly, this book made me feel worse than any book I ever read.

Maybe I missed the whole point of the book and maybe you can help me. But, to me, White Cat was just another portrait of how fucked up everything is and I don’t need that kind of shit.

So, thanks, Holly Black, for giving me absolutely nothing but bad memories. Guess I’ll know better next time.