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daniellemohlman 's review for:
Gold
by Chris Cleave
It’s no Little Bee, but Gold was good to me. It showed me that flashbacks in literature aren’t always terrible. It loved me with its constant shifts in perspective. And it presented me with a terrible reality while challenging me to put myself in the same situation and choose for myself a different road. (I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I’m too goddamned selfish.)
When I was finished, I noticed that Gold was good to me because it was actively hurting me. As it turns out, “good” doesn’t necessarily mean “right.” And it certainly doesn’t mean “love.”
When I was finished, I noticed that Gold was good to me because it was actively hurting me. As it turns out, “good” doesn’t necessarily mean “right.” And it certainly doesn’t mean “love.”