If you look at my original review, you'll see my initial rating was three stars. It wasn't because I thought the book deserved that rating; it was because I was afraid to give it less. Afraid of being the odd one out. I convinced myself I kind of liked it, to a point. Told myself I "both hated and loved it". I even wrote so in my review. I was lying.
Not consciously, but lying regardless. I didn't love this book. I didn't even like it. It went beyond simple disappointment; it was a profound discomfort. I didn't enjoy what I was reading. I felt like I shouldn't be reading it, and in the worst way possible.
Maybe I should've known this would happen when I chose to read the book just because the movie was coming, and my idol Emma Watson was starring in it. But I have found some gems because of movies before, so while the book never caught my interest (mostly because I couldn't glean the foggiest clue of what the book was about from the summary), I was optimistic. That oughta teach me.
I couldn't connect with Charlie. His "voice" was so foreign to me, on many levels. He sounded to me like a ten year old in his writing--definitely not a 15-year-old. Then, from this ten year old, there would once in a while come some of the deepest things. It was jarring, even though I love meaningful shit like that. But the most awkward part was reading of this mental ten-year-old smoking, doing drugs, drinking and having sex-related experiences. It felt so completely wrong. Vile. I almost felt... violated, if I feel like being dramatic about it.
If that's not enough, I couldn't relate to the way Charlie reacted to... just about everything. I felt like he probably has some form of autism, but I've read books with autistic protagonists before (The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time andThe Rosie Project are a couple of astounding ones that come to mind), and I fully related, understood and loved those. Not here.
And on top of all that (yes, there is more!), I didn't like Charlie's relationships with those around him, even with Patrick whom I loved (Sam, not so much). And I simply hated the romance--or lack of it. Or lack of conclusion. I felt like since I went through all that ickiness, I should at least get something out of it.
But worst of all, this book didn't have a plot. It was just... all over the place, and the final revelation... it came out of nowhere! It was like *poof* and it's there. There was no hint or clue prior to it, nor a feeling like the book was heading anywhere near there.
Honestly, I don't think I got the point of the book. Maybe I just missed something, because obviously people seesomething in it, but I didn't. And you know what? I'm okay with that. I'm okay with hating this book. I'm okay with being the odd one out. And I'm done pretending I'm not.
I couldn't connect with Charlie. His "voice" was so foreign to me, on many levels. He sounded to me like a ten year old in his writing--definitely not a 15-year-old. Then, from this ten year old, there would once in a while come some of the deepest things. It was jarring, even though I love meaningful shit like that. But the most awkward part was reading of this mental ten-year-old smoking, doing drugs, drinking and having sex-related experiences. It felt so completely wrong. Vile. I almost felt... violated, if I feel like being dramatic about it.
If that's not enough, I couldn't relate to the way Charlie reacted to... just about everything. I felt like he probably has some form of autism, but I've read books with autistic protagonists before (The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time andThe Rosie Project are a couple of astounding ones that come to mind), and I fully related, understood and loved those. Not here.
And on top of all that (yes, there is more!), I didn't like Charlie's relationships with those around him, even with Patrick whom I loved (Sam, not so much). And I simply hated the romance--or lack of it. Or lack of conclusion. I felt like since I went through all that ickiness, I should at least get something out of it.
But worst of all, this book didn't have a plot. It was just... all over the place, and the final revelation... it came out of nowhere! It was like *poof* and it's there. There was no hint or clue prior to it, nor a feeling like the book was heading anywhere near there.
Honestly, I don't think I got the point of the book. Maybe I just missed something, because obviously people seesomething in it, but I didn't. And you know what? I'm okay with that. I'm okay with hating this book. I'm okay with being the odd one out. And I'm done pretending I'm not.
Originally posted on my blog. Re-reviewed on my new blog here.