This series is one of my favorite. Reviewing it will not do it justice.
Bray creates a world of dreams, wonder and magic. With every thing beautiful, something dark, horrible and nightmarish comes forth. Because what is light without the contracting dark?
Not everything that comes from dreams, wonder and magic is good though. And not everything that is dark, horrible and nightmarish is bad. So what can you trust? The feeling in your gut? The pull towards your deepest desire? Is it truly worth it? Are the dark secrets that lay before you worth the power?
Gemma is going crazy. She saw her mother die, yet she wasn’t in eye shot of her. She sees things.. sees people.. yet is it really crazy if it is actually happening?
She finally gets to go to London to finishing school where she meets three girls that lives will forever be altered by her own. These girls feel as if finishing school is rubbish and that there is more out there for themselves. Which they do indeed find out just what is out there for them.
She is followed by a man, Kartik, who believes her when she says she saw her mother’s death. He tells her not to dig any deeper and to leave things alone.
But how can she when there’s even a 01% chance that she will be able to see her mother again? Who is this creepy, gypsy-like guy anyway and why does he even believe her?
This book is full of magic. I am telling you, it is beautiful. It’s woven so well that at some points you are like, “wait, why can’t this happen to me?”
Bray has a way of getting you to love characters so much that you feel like you actually know the person. Then she may do something horrible to them. That’s when you’ll throw the book across the room, sit for about five seconds, and then run to pick it up and continue reading.
Or you’ll be like me and read the end before you even are past chapter three because you can’t handle anything. I advise against doing that. I’m not a good role model.
This series WILL, and I underline that with all my feeling, break your heart. It will break it so much that you can’t pick it up again and read it until it’s been seven years or more (example: me), but you won’t regret a thing.
I love and hate you Libba Bray.