I…ok. I am of two minds.
Mind the first cannot STAND this shit. Mind the first has a serious problem with poetic prose, with things like ‘His voice is as soft as a sparrow’s beating wing, and I can almost feel the gentle flutter across my cheek.’ Mind the first le barfs at this.
And then ALSO (please, all, avert your eyes because I’m sort of embarassed that this bothers me), things like this:
So…you didn’t ‘shock,’ then, or you didn’t ‘fear’? Because those words would presumably replace the word that is not the right word, only they do not work in the sentence. And holy hell is this ever the nit-pickiest thing, but it isn’t the only mistake that she made like this, where her sentence structures didn’t quite align and I get that it’s people talking and people talking don’t always have perfect syntax but it is a book. Obey the First Law of Tim Gunn and make it work, people.
So, the writing provoked my mind the first to wrath. But THE STORY MY CHILDRENS THE STORY! It ate my face. Mind the second was so engrossed, I didn’t even care about the slips (JOKES, I totally did. But I moved. on.). Because Jenna Fox awakens from a year and a half of comatosing and has no memories and no friends and a grandmother who looks at her with shifty eyes and there are hella secrets.
And you know me, friends. You know do not Get Shit, that I am driving the largest float in the Oblivion Parade, that I never see the twists coming and am blown to bits by all surprise endings. But I figured out the Big Secret on page 38, which totally ruined the first half of the book for me. Because Pearson would be all, Clue! And I would durrrr, because how is that not so obvious?
But then the Secret comes out halfway through the book, and then there are a few more secrets still to come but mostly it is the Aftermath. And this is when it gets good. Because what starts as a tired old tirade against Science becomes a fierce treatise on the value of mortality. Pearson is suggesting some things that take serious balls to suggest, about personhood and identity and yes, Science (which is a dead horse that will need flogging until nuclear winter) and let me tell you, it ripped my heart out.
So! I feel as though my rating system will let me down here. Hows abouts five for the writing and eight for the story and nine for the balls, averaging out to *tick-a-tick-a-tick TAP* Seven sounds good.