This book has been gushed over by all of my favorite readers — and I get it. It’s well-written, has characters that attach deeply to your heart, and tells a set of life stories of redemption through the powerful forces of friendship and art. I couldn’t stop reading, and I teared up fairly reliably in response to the truly heartfelt and exquisitely expressed insights, remembrances, and hopeful resolutions.
But — rather than finding it uplifting (as most others did), I was left feeling despondent. So many broken people, especially broken kids, populated these pages. I don’t believe the author ever specifies where this is taking place — what country, what city. We’re left to feel that this level of grief, brokenness, woe, and misery is the lot of most — the essential human experience as it were. I loved the uplift that came with the discussions on art, and the fierce loyalty struck between friendships forged in despair, but I felt more disturbed than inspired by the book as a whole.
Books to look forward to ... 