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kelevrak 's review for:
The Longest Ride
by Nicholas Sparks
Have you ever just started reading a book, and within the first chapter clearly recognizing a favorite in progress? That words on those pages are shaping a book that you will revisit time and time again, at different ages and times of your life, if only to see what else you can take away from the story you read so long ago?
I think that's what this book is to me.
No, I know it.
In the moments after finishing this book (after the necessary pause to grasp all the information given to me, of course) I debated what I might mention upon writing my review. I suppose I could tell fellow readers about Luke the bull rider or about Sophie the Sorority girl that isn't all your typical sorority girl or I can talk about Ira and all the inspirational aspects of his person. I suppose I could mention moments where I thought "Hmm, this could have been elaborated" or moments where I've paused, thinking "I thought this was going to go this and this way" or the moments that drew from me a single gasp of pleasant surprise or the solitary tears that would escape me without permission. But really, I feel that none of those points would have truly delivered my thoughts on this book, nor would it be justice to what I've read. Rereading my so-far review I already feel like I'm taking away and lessening the value of what I have read, of the strength of the story provided to us.
I feel that no arrangement of words could adequately describe what this book was for me and the feelings that it triggered. Because this book is so much more than words can describe. This book is not about a bull rider struggling to make ends meet, this book is not about an aspiring art major, or about an old man who is that end of his line and the accident that ties their lives together.
I won't argue or debate the points brought up by those that rated this poorly. To each his own, after all. Books affect us all differently. And we often pick a book up with certain expectations, awaiting a certain end or thrill out of the read. I cannot see any other explanation for some reviews other than they simply could not grasp the immensity of this book. It is not fast paced; in fact, it is more mellow in comparison to other works, I think. Yet, this is the one that has truly struck a nerve with me. I cannot justify the occurrence of boredom from these lines.
Just as I cannot put into words the greatness of this story.
I hope you understand.
I think that's what this book is to me.
No, I know it.
In the moments after finishing this book (after the necessary pause to grasp all the information given to me, of course) I debated what I might mention upon writing my review. I suppose I could tell fellow readers about Luke the bull rider or about Sophie the Sorority girl that isn't all your typical sorority girl or I can talk about Ira and all the inspirational aspects of his person. I suppose I could mention moments where I thought "Hmm, this could have been elaborated" or moments where I've paused, thinking "I thought this was going to go this and this way" or the moments that drew from me a single gasp of pleasant surprise or the solitary tears that would escape me without permission. But really, I feel that none of those points would have truly delivered my thoughts on this book, nor would it be justice to what I've read. Rereading my so-far review I already feel like I'm taking away and lessening the value of what I have read, of the strength of the story provided to us.
I feel that no arrangement of words could adequately describe what this book was for me and the feelings that it triggered. Because this book is so much more than words can describe. This book is not about a bull rider struggling to make ends meet, this book is not about an aspiring art major, or about an old man who is that end of his line and the accident that ties their lives together.
I won't argue or debate the points brought up by those that rated this poorly. To each his own, after all. Books affect us all differently. And we often pick a book up with certain expectations, awaiting a certain end or thrill out of the read. I cannot see any other explanation for some reviews other than they simply could not grasp the immensity of this book. It is not fast paced; in fact, it is more mellow in comparison to other works, I think. Yet, this is the one that has truly struck a nerve with me. I cannot justify the occurrence of boredom from these lines.
Just as I cannot put into words the greatness of this story.
I hope you understand.