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yelenacherepanova's review against another edition
dark
funny
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
renes_books's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
vivo_morior's review
dark
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.0
johanagtzt's review against another edition
dark
emotional
sad
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
rosie_isenman's review against another edition
emotional
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
friya's review against another edition
2.5
the entire plot is very textbook narcissistic abuse. it's like i could feel the author referring to a psychology today article as she was writing. i suppose the point is that these stories tend to be similar but idk the end result was very one-note, repetitive, and on-the-nose for me. it's very realistic and i'm sure would be validating for someone who had experienced similar but it just was not very exciting to read past the first quarter or so.
jam_03's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
teavani's review against another edition
4.0
I love myself in love. I find my feelings fascinating and human, for once can sympathize with my own actions (16).
I wanted our chaste coffee dates to go on and on, for there to be no end to these things, and this, the sex, was the end, I knew. Every thing he did was another ending (22).
I wondered privately how she wasn't bored or lonely, but I knew too that this was the better way to live. You earned the eventual love story with your restraint (27).
My mind was working double-time to selectively absorb and reject the various things he was telling me. He was sorry: good. He was opening up about his past: good. He loved her: bad. Yes, I said, trying to be mature (39).
I was pragmatic, entering panic mode already, trying to recover my composure. (What could people be expected to tolerate of me? How much of what I needed could I reasonably demand?) (47).
Every day that passed in which I was easy to be with, and accommodating, and a good girlfriend, was a ritual offered up (50).
When you fall in love with someone and your life is remade, you know instinctively that you must take great care of this delicate new world the two of you are building. There is infrastructure to be dealt with, dams and bridges and town halls to be planned. The high-stakes precarity of what you are doing will frequently bring tears to your eyes, both from fright and from exquisite pleasure. One wrong move and the whole thing could collapse before you have even finished construction. Couples will often disappear together for months in their beginning stages, which is not just about lust but also about building (57).
It was easy to deny because trouble receded when I could be with him physically, all potential intrusions rendered laughably unreal (58).
That I was not thin was not the only thing about me, a fact which seemed obvious everywhere else in the world. But when I returned to Waterford it seemed again my defining trait, my characteristic failure. Every time I came back it was a reminder, at least there, at least home, at least where it counted, I would always be wrong (71).
Sometimes this distance between everyone comforted and pleased me. I would die knowing things about myself that nobody else on earth did. There were experiences that lived only in me and could never be replicated or recounted. And sometimes, like now, the distance seemed too sad to live with (79).
I was sad for him that he had a child at all if it meant his happiness was tied to mine always. I was sad I wasn't able to learn to be happier, more regular and peaceful, because it meant he would never have that peace for himself, which he of all people deserved and had waited for (81).
In that moment I was as happy as I have ever been, sure that the abundance and purity of love I felt was obvious in every way, through my waiting and my tininess, my forgiveness and willingness to be pathetic. I was the woman. I had suffered. I was there (110).
He was careful not to speak of her too much or to behave as though she held much importance. I never knew what to say, torn between wanting to encourage his disgust and the awful feeling of his still-present connection to her. And, too, it amazed me to conceive of her out there in the world living luridly but still the object of his love and fascination. I was here, in the home, safe and useful as a sink (169).
They weren't star-crossed, just dithering, dependent people who couldn't stay away from each other because they hadn't worked out how to imagine anything different (185).
But it wouldn't have mattered in the end. Whatever he offered me would never have sufficed. I had chosen someone who was by nature indifferent, and made it my project to make him love me (199).
I wanted our chaste coffee dates to go on and on, for there to be no end to these things, and this, the sex, was the end, I knew. Every thing he did was another ending (22).
I wondered privately how she wasn't bored or lonely, but I knew too that this was the better way to live. You earned the eventual love story with your restraint (27).
My mind was working double-time to selectively absorb and reject the various things he was telling me. He was sorry: good. He was opening up about his past: good. He loved her: bad. Yes, I said, trying to be mature (39).
I was pragmatic, entering panic mode already, trying to recover my composure. (What could people be expected to tolerate of me? How much of what I needed could I reasonably demand?) (47).
Every day that passed in which I was easy to be with, and accommodating, and a good girlfriend, was a ritual offered up (50).
When you fall in love with someone and your life is remade, you know instinctively that you must take great care of this delicate new world the two of you are building. There is infrastructure to be dealt with, dams and bridges and town halls to be planned. The high-stakes precarity of what you are doing will frequently bring tears to your eyes, both from fright and from exquisite pleasure. One wrong move and the whole thing could collapse before you have even finished construction. Couples will often disappear together for months in their beginning stages, which is not just about lust but also about building (57).
It was easy to deny because trouble receded when I could be with him physically, all potential intrusions rendered laughably unreal (58).
That I was not thin was not the only thing about me, a fact which seemed obvious everywhere else in the world. But when I returned to Waterford it seemed again my defining trait, my characteristic failure. Every time I came back it was a reminder, at least there, at least home, at least where it counted, I would always be wrong (71).
Sometimes this distance between everyone comforted and pleased me. I would die knowing things about myself that nobody else on earth did. There were experiences that lived only in me and could never be replicated or recounted. And sometimes, like now, the distance seemed too sad to live with (79).
I was sad for him that he had a child at all if it meant his happiness was tied to mine always. I was sad I wasn't able to learn to be happier, more regular and peaceful, because it meant he would never have that peace for himself, which he of all people deserved and had waited for (81).
In that moment I was as happy as I have ever been, sure that the abundance and purity of love I felt was obvious in every way, through my waiting and my tininess, my forgiveness and willingness to be pathetic. I was the woman. I had suffered. I was there (110).
He was careful not to speak of her too much or to behave as though she held much importance. I never knew what to say, torn between wanting to encourage his disgust and the awful feeling of his still-present connection to her. And, too, it amazed me to conceive of her out there in the world living luridly but still the object of his love and fascination. I was here, in the home, safe and useful as a sink (169).
They weren't star-crossed, just dithering, dependent people who couldn't stay away from each other because they hadn't worked out how to imagine anything different (185).
But it wouldn't have mattered in the end. Whatever he offered me would never have sufficed. I had chosen someone who was by nature indifferent, and made it my project to make him love me (199).
thebookishbohemian's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
leggierigia20's review against another edition
dark
emotional
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0