Wednesday I neglected much needed sleep because of the even greater need to finish.
This book. Ooooooooh this book.
It had me intrigued from the very beginning and then I realized that the prologue paled in comparison to what came next (or first, as the prologue isn't actually the beginning of the story).
Once I hit the 71% mark I felt an incredible pang of regret that I wouldn't have this in my life for much longer.
At 74% my feelings about this book were summed up beautifully by H (via the amazing Sarah Burton):
"Like a young enamoured fool who seeks out sad music to lend charm to his own agony, I read these lines over and over, wondering at the thrilling pain they produced. I threw the book across the room. I picked it up. I threw it out of the window. I ran downstairs and retrieved it from the garden. I threw it into the fire. I picked it out with tongs. I sat down on the hearth and hugged the book to myself and wept."
Luckily, I didn't actually throw my book in the fire or out the window as I've been reading the e-arc received with great pleasure through Netgalley … but the sentiment is the same. I laughed. I cried. I cried some more. I got angry. I got ecstatically happy. I repeated all of these time and again.
I am absolutely in awe and I need more. Hopefully Burton will continue with the stories of Grace and Frankie and Godfrey and Kat and Janey and … I just need more.
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