I can never order a cream soda when I’m thirsty. Even when I’m not thirsty, I have to drink a couple glasses of water first, otherwise it just goes.down.too.fast.
So deliberately choosing a book that can be read in one day, and giving yourself one glass of wine to finish it?
It just goes.too.fast.
My friend Coby Stephenson published a novella called Violet Quesnel a couple years ago, and I snatched it up immediately. And then didn’t read it. I meant to, but life picked up, and it soon became “That book that I really need to read”. And as embarrassing as it was to be like : “ya, I do really want to read it, but I just haven’t” when I saw her, I lived in fear of reading it and NOT liking it.
It turns out that shouldn’t have been my fear. My fear should have been knowing that something so desperately sad could be written by someone with whom I’d had many good times and crazy adventures (and even then, I was just catching the fun from the sidelines!). The whole book made me want to drive across the prairies to go give her a hug. How else can you respond to a book about a girl struggling with mental illness, carrying a child who wasn’t entirely planned, so close and yet so far from the man who sees her for the complex, magical being that she is, feeling ostracized from her family with their own assorted baggage, including rape, physical abuse and alcoholism?
Oh the feels. Too many of the feels. And while you’re overpowered with them as you read, the minute you are done, you find yourself wanting more. Wanting a resolution that just isn’t there.
3.5/5 for all the feels, Coby. For all the feels.