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4.19 AVERAGE
4.19 AVERAGE
dnfed at 60%. as little as i cared about adrian "goblin" montague, i wasn't expecting this to be so much of a bore. the characters i love, percy, monty, felicity, sim, they are supposed to be like 40 but barely ever act so. they chase a pointless adventure, and i say useless because there was so little at stake. they intentionally go courting trouble, and risking so much for what could very well be nothing, and i was entirely uninterested. i wish i hadn't even attempted to read this so i could have maintained my notions of the happiest endings possible for all of the characters who were the reason i loved the previous books so much.
Enjoyable to revisit these siblings -- I remember devouring the first one about Monty and the second about Felicity so quickly I barely remember the plotlines. Adrian's book was less thrilling/absorbing than the other two, and hearing someone's constant severe anxious thoughts makes for at times a dismal read. Nonetheless, I enjoyed the story and meeting these characters one last time.
A satisfying conclusion to the Montague Siblings series.
adventurous
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
lighthearted
mysterious
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Finally finished this audiobook. An amazing end to the trilogy.
I really enjoyed this conclusion to the series, but I must admit that I had forgotten there was another Montague sibling and I spend the first few chapters thoroughly confused.
Spoiler
The way Adrien's generalized anxiety disorder is described, and specifically his feelings of impostor syndrome, was very familiar for me and was really beautifully done. Everyone's experiences with anxiety is different, but I saw a lot of my own negative thought patterns mirrored in him and I can't think of another book that described it in quite the same way.
A lovely and enjoyable conclusion to the series! Once again, I listened to it on audio, and the narrator did a brilliant job!
This takes place something like two decades after the first two books, and I will say, I didn't entirely feel like Monty & Felicity and the lot really felt all that different from the way they'd been written in the first two books. On the one hand, they were clearly still them, and I appreciated that they still had vices/issues and were allowed to be messy and imperfect even as adults. On the other hand, it felt very much like they'd totally stagnated and hadn't grown at all and it was distracting enough to pull me out of the story, as I honestly kept forgetting that this was meant to be decades later, not just a couple of years.
I enjoyed Adrian a lot, and thought he was lovely and quite relatable, and I appreciated the author tackling mental health stuff in this installment, though I personally often really struggle to read characters written with realistic anxiety disorders. I can find those thought patterns to be a bit triggering, so at times I really struggled with how deep into Adrian's headspace we were as he spun out. I do think the author did a good job with it, but it meant I often didn't particularly love the experience.
I did like how complicated things were between the siblings, though I found myself quite frustrated/unsatisfied with Monty's reactions, even understanding why they were happening. Again, I think partly it's because he was supposed to be in his forties? Not that older people can't be fucked up, but it just was disappointing. I also wished we had a bit more Percy!
Finally, I thought the Dutchman plot was interesting, and continued on with the particularly kind of blending of the supernatural and yet not that this series is known for. I both enjoy and find this ambiguity frustrating in equal measure, LOL.
It's been years since I read the first books, but I'd say I enjoyed this about as much as book 2, but not nearly as much as book 1, which will forever have my heart. Very much glad to have read it though, and I think fans of the series will at least get a kick out of revisiting their favs.
This takes place something like two decades after the first two books, and I will say, I didn't entirely feel like Monty & Felicity and the lot really felt all that different from the way they'd been written in the first two books. On the one hand, they were clearly still them, and I appreciated that they still had vices/issues and were allowed to be messy and imperfect even as adults. On the other hand, it felt very much like they'd totally stagnated and hadn't grown at all and it was distracting enough to pull me out of the story, as I honestly kept forgetting that this was meant to be decades later, not just a couple of years.
I enjoyed Adrian a lot, and thought he was lovely and quite relatable, and I appreciated the author tackling mental health stuff in this installment, though I personally often really struggle to read characters written with realistic anxiety disorders. I can find those thought patterns to be a bit triggering, so at times I really struggled with how deep into Adrian's headspace we were as he spun out. I do think the author did a good job with it, but it meant I often didn't particularly love the experience.
I did like how complicated things were between the siblings, though I found myself quite frustrated/unsatisfied with Monty's reactions, even understanding why they were happening. Again, I think partly it's because he was supposed to be in his forties? Not that older people can't be fucked up, but it just was disappointing. I also wished we had a bit more Percy!
Finally, I thought the Dutchman plot was interesting, and continued on with the particularly kind of blending of the supernatural and yet not that this series is known for. I both enjoy and find this ambiguity frustrating in equal measure, LOL.
It's been years since I read the first books, but I'd say I enjoyed this about as much as book 2, but not nearly as much as book 1, which will forever have my heart. Very much glad to have read it though, and I think fans of the series will at least get a kick out of revisiting their favs.
I don’t think there has ever been a character who I’ve related to more than Adrian Montague. Mackenzi Lee, somehow, writes the most stunning and real characters, with the most authentic and relatable thoughts. Her depiction of anxiety and OCD through Adrian was so authentic and relatable and beautiful. She put my thoughts and experiences into words and into a character, and it was absolutely breathtaking to read.
My absolute favorite part was these three pages - so real, so beautiful, my thoughts written out on the page:
“It isn’t the cold or the water or the sheer exhaustion that leaves me sagging, barely able to hold myself above the surface. It’s the weight of the whole goddamn world. It’s how hard it is to get out of bed. To believe people who say they love me. To believe my ideas have value or that I am capable of speaking them. The certainty that I’m silly and odd and wrong, a body and soul incorrectly assembled with all the right pieces in the wrong places. The urge to scratch myself until I tear away my skin, to bleed myself dry and starve myself and look away, to say the cruelest things possible to myself before anyone else has a chance, to keep saying them until they’re all I can hear. All the simple things that seem as easy as breathing for everyone else. It’s so hard to breathe…
“I want to sleep, I think. I want to stop struggling and give in. I want to let the water take me and never have to be in my own company again. I want to stop dragging myself around, stop feeling the weight of every thought like they're stones pulling me farther and farther under, the seafloor and surface both out of sight. I want to stop feeling weak just because some days, I can hardly carry my heavy heart.
“But more than that, I want to see the stars. I want to eat syllabub and rye bread and drink black tea with three lumps of sugar for my breakfast. I want to feel grass on my bare feet, and wear a red suit and high heels and dance until I'm breathless and hot. I want to kiss Louisa on our wedding day. I want to ride along the banks of the River Dee with her and share a bottle of wine and buy her libraries of books. I want us to make a life together, to fill our home with ideas and curiosities brought back from our travels and off-key singing, to challenge each other and speak our minds and put my lips to her palm when we disagree. I want to scatter handfuls of wildflower seeds over the manor gardens that have wilted since my mother died, watch them bloom, chaotic, and sparkle with fireflies on heady summer nights. I want to stand up to my father. I want to stand up in the House of Lords and speak my mind. I want to take the raw ore I have been given and forge it into a blade. I want to be brave enough to think I can do any of that. To believe that it is a life I deserve.
“I want to belong to myself. I want to stop feeling worthless and pointless and hopeless and less, less, less than everyone else around me. I want to live, not just survive, and fill myself up with all the people who have loved me into this moment and this man. I want to believe I am good and kind and clever and worthy with as much conviction as I have believed the opposites. I want to stop picking at life like it's a meal I don't want to eat, because I want to. I want to taste it all. I want life to be a feast, even if I have to eat it raw and bloody and burned some days. I will pick bones from my teeth. I will let the juice drip down my chin. I want to wake up.”
My absolute favorite part was these three pages - so real, so beautiful, my thoughts written out on the page:
“It isn’t the cold or the water or the sheer exhaustion that leaves me sagging, barely able to hold myself above the surface. It’s the weight of the whole goddamn world. It’s how hard it is to get out of bed. To believe people who say they love me. To believe my ideas have value or that I am capable of speaking them. The certainty that I’m silly and odd and wrong, a body and soul incorrectly assembled with all the right pieces in the wrong places. The urge to scratch myself until I tear away my skin, to bleed myself dry and starve myself and look away, to say the cruelest things possible to myself before anyone else has a chance, to keep saying them until they’re all I can hear. All the simple things that seem as easy as breathing for everyone else. It’s so hard to breathe…
“I want to sleep, I think. I want to stop struggling and give in. I want to let the water take me and never have to be in my own company again. I want to stop dragging myself around, stop feeling the weight of every thought like they're stones pulling me farther and farther under, the seafloor and surface both out of sight. I want to stop feeling weak just because some days, I can hardly carry my heavy heart.
“But more than that, I want to see the stars. I want to eat syllabub and rye bread and drink black tea with three lumps of sugar for my breakfast. I want to feel grass on my bare feet, and wear a red suit and high heels and dance until I'm breathless and hot. I want to kiss Louisa on our wedding day. I want to ride along the banks of the River Dee with her and share a bottle of wine and buy her libraries of books. I want us to make a life together, to fill our home with ideas and curiosities brought back from our travels and off-key singing, to challenge each other and speak our minds and put my lips to her palm when we disagree. I want to scatter handfuls of wildflower seeds over the manor gardens that have wilted since my mother died, watch them bloom, chaotic, and sparkle with fireflies on heady summer nights. I want to stand up to my father. I want to stand up in the House of Lords and speak my mind. I want to take the raw ore I have been given and forge it into a blade. I want to be brave enough to think I can do any of that. To believe that it is a life I deserve.
“I want to belong to myself. I want to stop feeling worthless and pointless and hopeless and less, less, less than everyone else around me. I want to live, not just survive, and fill myself up with all the people who have loved me into this moment and this man. I want to believe I am good and kind and clever and worthy with as much conviction as I have believed the opposites. I want to stop picking at life like it's a meal I don't want to eat, because I want to. I want to taste it all. I want life to be a feast, even if I have to eat it raw and bloody and burned some days. I will pick bones from my teeth. I will let the juice drip down my chin. I want to wake up.”