What if you only had one day to live? What would you do? Who would you kiss? And how far would you go to save your own life?

Samantha Kingston has it all: looks, popularity, the perfect boyfriend. Friday, February 12, should be just another day in her charmed life. Instead, it turns out to be her last.

The catch: Samantha still wakes up the next morning. Living the last day of her life seven times during one miraculous week, she will untangle the mystery surrounding her death—and discover the true value of everything she is in danger of losing.

People change, slowly but surely. Sam did. All it took was one helluva eye-opening experience– or eye-closing, depending on how you want to look at it. Still, the truth of the matter abides that Sam did remedy her faults, learn from her mistakes, kiss the right boy, and tie up her assorted variety of loose ends. Did this final relived day make a lasting difference? Was it even the alternative reality that actually occurred? We’ll never know. It doesn’t matter. It’s good to have a slight bit of faith restored in humanity, regardless.

Before I Fall isn’t read for the destination– which was made glaringly plain on page one– but for the journey. Lyrical and resounding, Ms. Oliver wrote to overwhelm with simplicity.  On her voyage from high school mean girl to unlikely philanthropist, Samantha Kingston succeeds to impact us not out of wisdom, but wonder. To exalt the quotidian became natural, and her everyday musings reverberated within us, purple prose without the meticulous and flowery planning. If Lauren Oliver were to write her own Deep Thoughts, I would assuredly be the first to buy it.

Unlike so many other reviewers, this book didn’t “take me back to high school.” No, unfortunately I’m still living that nightmare. Appropriately, Sam and & co. do bear a startling resemblance to some girls I know. Nonetheless, I never hated Sam or the other mean girls; I sympathized with them from the beginning. I love them all, even Lindsay, probably for their faults and vulnerabilities more than anything else. They were nasty, yes, but also insecure, superficial, selfish, spiteful– human.

Even in the novel’s final chapters, Sam was no angel. Preoccupied with silly romances and trivial revenge, she probably wouldn’t have been named a saint had she relived February 12th three hundred and sixty-five times. However, I relished in Sam’s frivolities; they drove the novel’s message home. I don’t mind dramatizing every day’s occurrence if that’s what it means to live, and I applaud the depth Oliver lent to characterization in this regard.

I should like to smell a thousand roses for the sake of Samantha Kingston.

Before I Fall, beautiful and silent, will forever go down in history as the first contemporary novel unrelated to cancer to make me cry. And yes, it is significantly better than If I Stay, the only novel to which I’ve ever heard it be compared.

5/5 stars.

Also: I’m meeting Lauren Oliver when she comes to Ottawa later this month. I can’t wait!

I’ll keep you posted,

Tessa has just a few months to live.

Fighting back against hospital visits, endless tests, drugs with excruciating side-effects, Tessa compiles a list. It’s her To Do Before I Die list. And number one is sex.

Released from the constraints of ‘normal’ life, Tessa tastes new experiences to make her feel alive while her failing body struggles to keep up.

Tessa’s feelings, her relationships with her father and brother, her estranged mother, her best friend, her new boyfriend, all are painfully crystallized in the precious weeks before Tessa’s time finally runs out.

Before I Die is a brilliantly-crafted novel, heartbreaking yet astonishingly life-affirming. It will take you to the very edge.

Happy Tuesday! In honour of this week’s theme, ‘Top 10 Forced Reads,’ I’m reviewing Before I Die, which was recently lovingly recommended to me by my lovely friends. As luck would have it, they appreciate a good hard cry as much as I do.

I have to give them credit, both for sticking it out and waiting patiently for this novel to pick up the pace, and for ignoring my exceedingly abundant complaints while I waited (im)patiently for the same occurrence.  Because before Before I Die hit the half-way mark, I have to be honest in saying that I was never truly invested.  Tessa was melodramatic, selfish, and  a wee bit strange, her best friend was a judgmental airhead, and her family was nothing more than dysfunctional and incapable of dealing with her decreasing level of health. Jenny Downham had a talent for plucking at heartstrings: nothing more and nothing less. Tessa had terminal cancer and one helluva bucket list, but that was nothing I hadn’t read before.

Really, it’s unfortunate that it took so long for the characters to endear me. I apply the term ‘endear’ loosely because, frankly, I still don’t really like Tessa as a person. Nevertheless I feel like we’ve gone through so much together that it would be impossible for us not to be inextricably linked. Despite never being able to legitimately relate to her, I experienced every one of her emotions vicariously and vivaciously. Thank you, Jenny Downham, for making that possible.

The best part of Before I Die is its honesty. There’s so much more to dying young than #YOLO, leaving a good-looking  corpse, and The Band Perry, and yet being a thoughtless teenager is exactly what Tessa craves. This novel is so brutal, so overwhelming, so raw that you can’t help but be swept away on a tidal wave of emotions. Its prose is written to wet eyes and break hearts.

The only character who never really clicked for me was Adam. I appreciate the fact that the protagonist, in keeping with the novel’s harsh truths,  proclaimed that he was ugly and fell in love with him anyway. Nonetheless, he never felt real to me. I guess it’s hypocritical to say that I’m disappointed that he met each and every one of my expectations, but there it is. He was too supportive for this bitter book.

I hate to compare Before I Die to If I Stay, but the titles more or less behoove that. All that really needs to be said is that I enjoyed Before I Die infinitely more. Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver is the last in a long line of books whose titles never cease to muddle me, and it is so next on my TBR list.

The ending? Yes, I broke down. Yes, I sobbed and bawled and wept. Yes, I was on a road trip and thus became the mascara-stained target of my family’s all too sarcastic remarks. No, I don’t regret a thing. Contrary to popular belief, crying at books makes me happy.

First impressions matter, it’s true, but lasting impressions matter more. Before I Die succeeded to come through on the latter, if not the former. Recommended to all those who need a good cry. 4.4/5 stars.

I’ll keep you posted,

Happy Tuesday! (Almost) every Tuesday at around this time, I participate in The Broke and the Bookish‘s Top Ten Tuesday weekly meme. This week’s theme is Top 1o books with X setting, so obviously I picked dystopias. It is my favourite genre, after all. Some of these may technically qualify as post-apocalyptics, but I thought I’d throw them in regardless. Nothing says “society characterized by squalor and oppression” like a good plague, yes? Henceforth, I’m listing in no particular order:

Can you believe that I only read 1984, Animal Farm, and The Handmaid’s Tale this summer? I’ve been so terribly deprived, although the two former were slightly depressing, however reflective of our world. Oh well.

I’ll keep you posted,

Gemma Doyle, sixteen and proud, must leave the warmth of her childhood home in India for the rigid Spence Academy, a cold finishing school outside of London, followed by a stranger who bears puzzling warnings. Using her sharp tongue and agile mind, she navigates the stormy seas of friendship with high-born daughters and her roommate, a plain scholarship case. As Gemma discovers that her mother’s death may have an otherworldly cause, and that she herself may have innate powers, Gemma is forced to face her own frightening, yet exciting destiny . . . if only she can believe in it.

Girls who play with fire get their fingers burned. Unfortunately, Gemma’s burning did not implicate her analeptic albeit tragic and untimely death. And her life, regretfully, entails endless irritation, at least on my part.

Interestingly, the only person whom I wanted to slap more than Gemma Doyle while reading A Great and Terrible Beauty was my 13-year-old self. Although I remembered slim to none of it, I’ve always claimed the novel to be an old favourite and even stored it on my prized crème de la crème shelf. Needless to say, it is currently being relocated. With shame.

This novel had all the ingredients necessary to form a wonderful fantasy: a good premise, solid world building, a compelling writing style, a new girl, engaging if shallow secondary characters. Wherefore, then, did it go wrong?  The entirety of the blame lies with our dear protagonist. I’ve always hated the lyrics ‘how can something that feels so right be wrong?’ Aren’t hangovers enough to answer that question? And yet Gemma’s sole motivation for the majority of her actions seems to be defiance, plain and simple (and absurd). I, for one, did not appreciate A Great and Terrible Beauty‘s ending in the least. Everything Gemma faced had been brought upon her by herself, and therefore her victory over it seemed like a cheating of fate. Perhaps, had she been fatally wounded by the adversary, she would have learned her lesson.

However this is not the case. The sole of Rebel Angels and The Sweet Far Thing, the two remaining installments of the Gemma Doyle trilogy, can be summed up in one word: redundancy. Gemma messes up, everyone suffers for it, she remedies her error at the last possible minute and is cherished as a hero. Sound familiar?

Gemma’s selfish nature did not help her case. I welcomed her faults– perfect protagonists remain unwanted and unrelatable– however there is a fine line between ‘human’ and ‘hellishly vexatious.’ Miss Bray, lamentably, crossed that line.

This is not to say that A Great and Terrible Beauty did not have its pros. As mentioned previously, some aspects of it must have appealed to my middle school self. The Realms were a delectable escape; India’s markets made for a flourishing opening scene; Victorian England was a phenomenally criticism-worthy setting (many reviewers claim it to be anachronistically portrayed, however I don’t know enough about the period to say.) Contrary to public opinion, I thoroughly enjoyed the characters of Felicity and Pippa. Sure, they were every bit as foolish and conceited as Gemma– coxcombs and popinjays to the end– if not more so, but at least they didn’t claim to be anything else. Moreover, I cherished the novel’s dark bits, however few and far between they were. I guess I’m still looking for the perfect Gothic thriller.

Just one more forewarning: this novel is not a romance. There are a few pages dedicated to Gemma’s adolescent libido, the key word here being ‘few’.

A Great and Terrible Beauty‘s promise and potential were dismally wasted on the spirit of foolish teenagers. Fortunately, Libba Bray puts that same spirit to use in her next two novels, Going Bovine and Beauty Queens, both of which I savoured in whole. Recommended for those who frequently make use of escapism, enjoy diversion without paying heed to deeper undercurrents, and appreciate pretentious fops. 2.9/5 stars.

I’ll keep you posted,

Angelina Hathaway was a baby when her mother gave her up for adoption. Now eighteen years old, she meets Guillermo – a handsome, arrogant boy who was sent from Europe to tell her that she’s inherited a vast fortune from her birth parents along with an explosive secret about her lineage that will change her forever. Unfortunately, there are people who know her secret and will stop at nothing to control her for their own purposes, or even kill her. In order to escape, she must decide between those she can trust and those she can’t… before it’s too late.

Thank you, Olivia Cooper, for writing us a bonus chapter of Shadow! I mean, Ancient Egypt, murder, and death rites? We are in for one helluva treat. The novel is actually available for free on Amazon for the next week. Enjoy!

Death of a Pharaoh
Egypt – 2,970 B.C.
If only I had listened to my advisors.  They foretold my death.  They said that the stars predicted the murder of a great ruler.  And now, here I am.  Lying on my bed, dead, while the priests and holy women prepare my body for burial.

As I lay here, I wonder what I could have done to prevent this.  I knew that my son wanted the throne but I didn’t realize how impatient he was.  Of course, he would inherit the throne one day, but as a 14-year-old, I didn’t feel he was ready.  Having murdered my way onto the throne myself, I suppose I can’t blame him.  Ambition runs in the family.  I guess he was more ready to lead than I realized.

Perhaps I should have held him more as a baby and loved him more as a child instead of passing him off to his nannies and tutor.  He might have felt more love towards me.  But I had a nation to run and people to govern.  That doesn’t leave much time for the pleasures of motherhood.  I wonder if I should blame his nannies and tutor for this.  I would think that a child’s natural inclination is to love his mother.  I can’t help but think that they turned him against me.

My body has been prepared and I’m being carried into my tomb.  The priests lower me into my sarcophagus.  My body has been mummified and a death mask is placed over my face.  My tomb is full of my earthly possessions – vases, statues, paintings, jewelry.  They are placed next to me so that I will have them in the afterlife.

The red diamond necklace is placed inside the sarcophagus with me.  The red diamonds were pulled from a mine near my ancestral home and made into a necklace and earrings for my grandmother.  The largest diamond at the base is two inches long and an inch across.  They sparkle, even now, inside the dark crypt.  Some say that the gems are magic.  And now they’re being buried with me.  If there’s anything that I want to take into the afterlife with me, it’s this.

I hear the priests began their chants and prayers as they begin to seal the tomb.

“A curse on anyone who enters the tomb and disturbs the peace of our great Pharaoh.  A curse on anyone who defiles this tomb or steals the possessions of our great Pharaoh.  Death will come to those defy you, great Pharaoh, even in the afterlife.”

It takes five men to roll the large stone door closed.  I don’t panic but feel entirely at peace.  Two thousand years later, my rest is disturbed.  My sarcophagus is opened and everything is stolen from me, including my red diamond necklace and earrings.  The curse begins to seek its revenge…

I’ll keep you posted,