This book. This goddamn book. Just when I think I have myself all figured out, this book came along and shook it all up again. Seriously. This f-cking book.
When I was a teenager, I used to sneak cigarettes on the back stoop of our house. Late at night, I'd sit on the cold cement in the dark and shiver as I smoked and listened to the wind blow through the trees. I felt so grown up and yet so young and uncertain. I was wistful and melancholy as only a teenager can be, mulling over my relationship and dreams and the things that stood in my way.
This is how this book made me feel. Young and uncertain and melancholy. I yearned while I read this book. Yearned to be young, to be Blue, to know Ganzy and Adam and Ronin and Noah. I yearned to ride in the orange Camaro and to have a Southern accent and to live in a warehouse.
I have said that I don't care about beautiful writing. That poetry and prose will always be second to good characters and a story that sweeps me into the plot. But this book. It was more writing than story. But the writing made these characters. Made them in a way that I didn't know they can be made. It made me want to be near them in a way that I'm not used to.
This f-cking book.
A very melancholy five stars.