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heidimayerkruse's review against another edition
5.0
Just reading again this beautiful little book about the reality of growing up... as a group of grown-ups in the next school district attempt to ban it.
The world is full of ugliness. And kids are shouldering up against it every day.
Books are a safe place for kids to either feel understood and not so alone. Or, if you happen to be among the privileged not yet immersed in the ugliness -it's a safe place to get a glimpse of a wider reality and develop empathy for those less lucky.
The whole conversation is broken.
We have adults more worried about banning books with uncomfortable subjects, than trying to actually resolve those problems in the real world. If it's really about protecting the kids, I can think of a few dozen things that would be more helpful.
The world is full of ugliness. And kids are shouldering up against it every day.
Books are a safe place for kids to either feel understood and not so alone. Or, if you happen to be among the privileged not yet immersed in the ugliness -it's a safe place to get a glimpse of a wider reality and develop empathy for those less lucky.
The whole conversation is broken.
We have adults more worried about banning books with uncomfortable subjects, than trying to actually resolve those problems in the real world. If it's really about protecting the kids, I can think of a few dozen things that would be more helpful.
laura_de_leon's review against another edition
4.0
Such a compelling character, and a very real portrayal of mental illness.
colormist's review against another edition
5.0
I had these expectations for this book. I was thinking "David Foster Wallace as a freshman" so I kind of really didn't want to read it. DFW is not my cup of tea. I doubt he will ever be my cup of tea (Jasmine, or Double Bergamot Earl Grey).
But my dear friend listed it in her top 10 books and I so respect her judgment of reading materials as our interests are quite similar. So I moved the book from "shelf I will likely never get around to reading" to "shelf I will hopefully be reading within the next year or so". And I finished The Girl With All The Gifts and was feeling like I might be up for some teenage angst.
Reading this, I had the best impression of The Catcher in The Rye meets The Outsiders. I felt like maybe I had read this novel too late in life. It was very precious and endearing and full of all my favorite things from the 90's, so it had that much going for it.
I was relating a lot to the protagonist. Like I seriously was feeling like our lives had many parallels and he was so much like me. I was actually kind of annoyed how perfect his family was and here wishing I knew what that would be like. All the while I'm trying to diagnose him while ignoring the obvious. I didn't mean to ignore the obvious, it's just that you don't want it to be that. You want it to be something else. Anything else.
Just please don't be that.
I got to the end. The last letter before the epilogue. It was just a bad dream. It wasn't real. And the book ended.
I really stared at the epilogue page for more than a few moments wondering if I should continue. Stephen King did this amazing thing with the Dark Tower series. He inserted himself into the narrative, talked to the reader and told them they didn't have to finish. They didn't have to know what happened at the end. They could just stop there and go with what they felt the ending should be.
So I'm staring at the epilogue title page thinking, "I don't have to read the last few pages. I mean, the book ended. I don't have to continue. I'm not going to learn anything new on these next few pages." My little innocent voice trying to protect me from what it knows is going to happen in the next few pages. That same voice that helped me survive my own childhood resurfacing 20 years later because it knows what I'm subconsciously trying to ignore, glaze over, shove aside, bury, etc.
I don't think I would have read this book had I known the ending. I know I wouldn't have read this book had I known the ending. I've been depressed the entire time while reading this book. I guess it's a bit triggering. I couldn't even put a finger on what was causing the depression--only that I knew I couldn't read too much of this book at once. That it wasn't safe to read it that way.
But my dear friend listed it in her top 10 books and I so respect her judgment of reading materials as our interests are quite similar. So I moved the book from "shelf I will likely never get around to reading" to "shelf I will hopefully be reading within the next year or so". And I finished The Girl With All The Gifts and was feeling like I might be up for some teenage angst.
Reading this, I had the best impression of The Catcher in The Rye meets The Outsiders. I felt like maybe I had read this novel too late in life. It was very precious and endearing and full of all my favorite things from the 90's, so it had that much going for it.
I was relating a lot to the protagonist. Like I seriously was feeling like our lives had many parallels and he was so much like me. I was actually kind of annoyed how perfect his family was and here wishing I knew what that would be like. All the while I'm trying to diagnose him while ignoring the obvious. I didn't mean to ignore the obvious, it's just that you don't want it to be that. You want it to be something else. Anything else.
Just please don't be that.
I got to the end. The last letter before the epilogue. It was just a bad dream. It wasn't real. And the book ended.
I really stared at the epilogue page for more than a few moments wondering if I should continue. Stephen King did this amazing thing with the Dark Tower series. He inserted himself into the narrative, talked to the reader and told them they didn't have to finish. They didn't have to know what happened at the end. They could just stop there and go with what they felt the ending should be.
So I'm staring at the epilogue title page thinking, "I don't have to read the last few pages. I mean, the book ended. I don't have to continue. I'm not going to learn anything new on these next few pages." My little innocent voice trying to protect me from what it knows is going to happen in the next few pages. That same voice that helped me survive my own childhood resurfacing 20 years later because it knows what I'm subconsciously trying to ignore, glaze over, shove aside, bury, etc.
I don't think I would have read this book had I known the ending. I know I wouldn't have read this book had I known the ending. I've been depressed the entire time while reading this book. I guess it's a bit triggering. I couldn't even put a finger on what was causing the depression--only that I knew I couldn't read too much of this book at once. That it wasn't safe to read it that way.
frazindc's review against another edition
4.0
I liked the format and will certainly be thinking about the story for a while. Wondered whether Charlie was supposed to be autistic?
chrmolmal's review against another edition
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
Litt skuffa siden filmen e veldig bra, og æ følt ikke boka ga mæ samme følelse. Så filmen igjen etter æ lest boka og det gjor filmen enda bedre. I boka ble hovedkarakteren litt for mye sosialt tilbakestående, som gjor mæ irritert.
tylermcgaughey's review against another edition
3.0
The perfect book for a shy fifteen year old who's into The Cure, Harold And Maude and long drives at night. (Not that I know anything about that.) Obviously this book won't maintain the same 'This is so my life' appeal to me now, as a fella in my early twenties, but I'm mildly curious to revisit it and see how it stands just as an aesthetic object. The star rating reflects this state of affairs.
elisability's review against another edition
3.0
3.5 stars
Charlie is a fifteen-year-old young man starting high school. He is the youngest of three siblings, has few friends, and is generally considered weird by fellow students. He meets Patrick and Sam, eighteen-year-old seniors, and becomes close especially with them, but also with their whole group of friends. He goes to parties with them and experiences with "regular teenage things" - sex, alcohol, drugs... The whole book is epistolary, written as letters from Charlie to an unknown friend. He talks about current events with his friends and family, things that happen in school, and also his past, his aunt Helen, mental issues and stays in the hospital.
I think this is the kind of book that every time I think of it I’ll have a different appreciation of it, and would give it a different rating. There were moments I wanted to give it five stars for the poignancy of the story itself, and others I felt like only going with two stars because I was annoyed with Charlie’s way of writing (but the whole thing wouldn’t have worked if told any other way... I don’t know, I’m confused by it all...) So I settled on 3.5 as a compromise.
I did really like how nothing felt like it was forced. I mean, looking back on it, a lot happened during that single year of Charlie’s life, but it all felt organic, like nothing was forced by the author to make something dramatic happen. It felt like a year that could happen in a normal person’s life.
This is definitely not going to enter in the ranks of my favourite books, but I can see why it’s so beloved in a certain generation.
Charlie is a fifteen-year-old young man starting high school. He is the youngest of three siblings, has few friends, and is generally considered weird by fellow students. He meets Patrick and Sam, eighteen-year-old seniors, and becomes close especially with them, but also with their whole group of friends. He goes to parties with them and experiences with "regular teenage things" - sex, alcohol, drugs... The whole book is epistolary, written as letters from Charlie to an unknown friend. He talks about current events with his friends and family, things that happen in school, and also his past, his aunt Helen, mental issues and stays in the hospital.
I think this is the kind of book that every time I think of it I’ll have a different appreciation of it, and would give it a different rating. There were moments I wanted to give it five stars for the poignancy of the story itself, and others I felt like only going with two stars because I was annoyed with Charlie’s way of writing (but the whole thing wouldn’t have worked if told any other way... I don’t know, I’m confused by it all...) So I settled on 3.5 as a compromise.
I did really like how nothing felt like it was forced. I mean, looking back on it, a lot happened during that single year of Charlie’s life, but it all felt organic, like nothing was forced by the author to make something dramatic happen. It felt like a year that could happen in a normal person’s life.
This is definitely not going to enter in the ranks of my favourite books, but I can see why it’s so beloved in a certain generation.
rebecca_oneil's review against another edition
5.0
I just realized I never put this in my Goodreads. I believe I read it when it came out (1999) or slightly after...when I first started working at the library. It was absorbing and great for that age. Since then, it's become one of our most-replaced modern classics. "You accept the love you think you deserve."
its_rik's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
The perspective captured by chbosky is very acute and real because of the blunt and choppy writing, as well as the character building being developed and empathetic. It fell short at the beginning in my opinion however de initely progressively improved, this book hit a bit too close to home for me, so enjoyment meant it didn't quite scrape a 4 stars. A good read