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If I'm honest, all the issue I mentioned are things that in a book I enjoyed, I might have overlooked. Sadly, this wasn't that book. Hopefully, you all have better luck with it and please be respectful of my opinion.
Also, just a warning, this book is NOT, Young Adult. It contains explicit sexual content! All opinions are my own.
Alicia I agree with you. I personally thought this book was awful. Jan 01, PM. Hayden I respect your opinion. I enjoyed the book and I thought it was great overall.
Even tho I respect your opinion. Not every story is for everyone. Have a great day! The award for the most over hyped,biggest book disappointment of the year,so far,goes to this book.
What on earth is all that about? Surely that many review copies weren't available? BUT, it certainly worked I've never been so interested in reading something.
I mean I've lost count of this appearing on my feed with so many glowing reviews. And that's ok,each to their own.
We all have different tastes but when a book gets such positively you'd be forgiven for expecting something pretty damn special,wouldn't you?
For me,this book isn't anything special at all. It's mediocre. Alex at least had something about him but Henry was like a cardboard cut out. The story jumped from scene to scene with no flow to the story.
I lost count of how many times I had to go back and read certain scenes. It was like the Author googled 'all things British' and decided to include them regardless of whether they worked.
Granted,if you aren't British this probably wouldn't be an issue. But I am. And it was. But what on earth happened here. They would start off with lots of kissing,hands in hair,a bit of desperation and then nothing.
It was over and you were kind of told they'd had sex. Most of the time I had no idea what they'd actually been up to.
And,as a result,I felt zero connection or chemistry between them. I didn't get them as lovers at all. They just came across as best friends for me.
And this wasn't. I mean these two would float about in restaurants,stay in hotels where no one recognized them! This would absolutely not happen with a member of the royal family or with the FSOTUS I'm guessing Where were the bodyguards or paparazzi?
No it wasn't. They disliked each other for ridiculous reasons quite frankly. View all 91 comments.
A UPDATE THE REAL QUESTION IS - Will Texas Go Blue??? This looks cute I'll die for this ship. It's Boh-wie, not Bah-wie. YouTube Blog Instagram Twitter Facebook Snapcha A UPDATE THE REAL QUESTION IS - Will Texas Go Blue???
View all 27 comments. I'm on a cruise right now. I saw a few people talking about this book before I left for vacation, so I downloaded it.
I finished it by the second day on my cruise. I ignored everyone. I didn't even go to trivia because I was enjoying this book so much.
I wanted to write a review for it when I finished it last week, but I only get internet when we're docked and the internet on this ship is. And to make matters worse, it's slooooow, so it takes a good fifteen minutes just to get Goodr I'm on a cruise right now.
And to make matters worse, it's slooooow, so it takes a good fifteen minutes just to get Goodreads to upload. But I felt bad not writing a review because I think this book is important and it needs to be read, and it's also cute and hot and funny, kinda like our cruise director, but that's for another day.
View all 15 comments. Feb 21, Chelsea chelseadolling reads rated it it was amazing Shelves: books-ive-reread , favorites , queer.
Possibly even of all time???? Casey McQuiston is a national treasure and needs to be protected at all costs bc I want to read their queer romances for the rest of my life.
God fucking bless America. Also: I would DIE for Nora View all 29 comments. Jun 15, Kai rated it it was amazing Shelves: favorites , owned , queer.
View all 46 comments. Nov 08, Nilufer Ozmekik rated it it was amazing. Make some noise for the winner of best romance and debut novel categories!
No need to attend an auction! I cried my eyes out and exceeded my sighing record with sighs! At least times I hit my forehead for waiting too long to read this powerful, emotional, lovely story.
I loved challenging, poignant, sincere story-telling and of course the characterization is so good than I expected.
But I think Alex stole my heart from the first pages. So they need to form a fake friendship ASAP for the sake of political balances between the countries.
And of course as you can imagine, their pretending relationship turned into something special, something even melting the heart of the cruelest bitch a.
What I like about this book: This is not only an amazing, heartbreaking and tear jerker romance between Alex and Henry, there are amazing supporting characters you could easily relate with them.
It is impossible to want to cuddle Nora and not admire her so much. This book is about siblings, family dynamics, bounding devoted friendship, diversity, freedom of thought, diaspora politics, searching for your true identity and path in your life.
Well done Casey McQuiston! The author honestly knows how to create a soul brushing, heart stealing harmony!
It was fantastic debut journey! View all 32 comments. Dec 20, Kiki rated it did not like it. Not for me. I get that a lot of people loved this, and I can see why.
I can respect that. But I am clearly not the intended audience for this. The author clearly knows nothing abou Not for me.
Our supposedly woke prince makes a tasteless joke about waterboarding and fawns over famed coloniser James I while no actual current issues are touched upon in any substantial way.
What real things? Brexit, maybe, or poor and injured people dying on Universal Credit, or Scottish separatism, or the revolving door at parliament, or the Grenfell Tower atrocity, or systemic transphobia, or rising anti-immigrant sentiment, or Trident, or cackling Tories looking to peddle the NHS for a fast quid, or the verging extinction of multiple native species of wildlife.
Similarly, the main character is a rude, judgemental, insufferable arsehole and the narrative tickles him under the chin for it.
His claim about wanting to make the world a better place made me laugh out loud. The central relationship had some cute moments but was highly unrealistic and dysfunctional.
I am not against heavy critiques of reprehensible Republican policies - far, far from it - but ignoring the historical corruption also present amongst the Democratic party and presenting them as some kind of untouchable, perfectly woke force for good is utterly disingenuous.
I'm never ever going to be interested in narratives of good vs. To put the cherry on the top, there is a lot of shallow talk about how terrible empire is as a concept fair enough, and absolutely true but with no self awareness whatsoever.
The fact that America also has an empire is quickly handwaved. Apparently crimes against humanity are only bad when other people do them.
Aside from all of this, there are some fun moments, but only if you have a high tolerance for cheesiness. Jesus christ. View all 43 comments.
And now to the considerably shortened goodreads review! This was everything!!! Because the way subjects are approached in here? Gods, I wish everyone would be as open minded as the characters in this book.
That sentence at the beginning of my review? It hit close to home, it pains me to read it, yet I still love the fact that Casey McQuiston wrote it down on paper!
That she had the guts to give this particular kind of feeling her own voice and words. How many people who are forced to be in the closet have felt like that?
How many children were afraid to come out to their parents? How they will react… How many of us have felt alone and were weighted down by the truth?
This book, this supposedly romantic comedy, it touched me in a way books rarely do. Hope that there is a better world out there.
Hope that one day people will accept others the way they are. Hope that people can change. Hope that our future in this world is worth fighting for.
So if you decide to read this book, enjoy it! Laugh and cry, appreciate the politics and scheming, adore Henry and Alex for being the way they are, fall in love, enjoy their freedom and youth, but most of all find yourself in those pages and try to keep this feeling even after you closed the book.
Dare to move on or leave it at that. Your decision, your choice. Or in this particular case how Henry felt.
In his mind he gave him a role and never even looked beyond the horizon. But then the accident with the cake happened and Alex was forced to spend some time with Henry and he finally realized what a dumbass he actually was.
I loved how Alex realized that he likes him and I adored him for being so unapologetic about his bisexuality. He just accepted it as a part of himself, he wondered about it, he explored it but he never felt bad about being who he truly was!
And this was amazing! I wish there would be more bi representations like that; I wish that everyone would be as cool about being bi as Alex was.
As his friends and family were! This was so wholesome and such a nice way to deal with your own sexuality.
Then again Alex is a very confident and brazen character so to deal with it like that fit him perfectly. But that everyone seems enamored, when the only difference between the lie and the truth that would burn up Fox News is the gender involved … well, it fucking stings.
Where the freaking hell is my Prince Henry!!??? Like yesterday! I adored his character arc so much! I mean at the beginning of the book he was the shy and reserved prince and by the end of it he eventually found his own voice and shouted his innermost thoughts into the world.
You must invent an entirely new system. What kind of legacy? You can take your legacy and your decorum and you can shove it up your fucking arse, Philip.
One hundred percent probability this is not a hypothetical question. It was obvious they were great friends and knew each other better than anyone else.
There was something there, right? I think there was some sort of threesome going on the night they celebrated at the karaoke bar. Pez, Nora AND June!
All three of them, feel me? Come on. This sentence instantly made me love the President! XD She was such a cool woman and Alex was so lucky to have her as his mum!
It was amazing how she could be all business but at the same time always watched out for her kids. They were her first priority no matter how important her job was and she would have done anything to make them happy.
Yes, she had a lot of responsibility and tried to perform damage control, but that was mostly due to her feelings for her son. I mean she was a public figure and we all know how those games are played.
Well and as it turned out, Richards played very dirty indeed. I wish more parents would say words like that to their queer kids!
At least it should be that way!!! You want it to be happy, right? A little appreciation for the patron saint of gender-neutral bathrooms in California?
Little shit. Not to me, anyway. I see you. Be safe. You are my child. The camera snaps nearby. His eyes are big and soft and blue, and he desperately needs to be punched in one of them.
There were so many amazing quotes, countless sweet and tender moments, about a thousand ways they told each other that they are in love.
One of my personal highlights was the Turkey Gate though. And considering that to write a message takes time and that you think long and hard what to write this was very realistic too.
They were utterly, truly and madly in love and you could read it in every line! I felt so sorry for them though.
It must have been so tough to be exposed like that and to deal with the press and consequences. They were outed by others and it was NOT their own decision!
And this is wrong!!! You should be able to decide when you come out to your family, your friends or the world.
XD But I feel about this strongly, because not everyone is ready to come out and for many people to take this step means to give up the life they are used to.
XD Their level of cuteness is just off the charts!! That I can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache? Ronnie can best be described as a pure American singer and songwriter whose music is a never ending story of life experiences that are not only his but many others as well.
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Now the confectionary counters that are in your face every ten paces in London look as if they have undergone radiation on a Chernobyl scale.
Then there's the enticing "two-for-one" offers in the supermarket and the obscene cereal boxes as big as houses because of course it's cheaper to buy in bulk and not, dear customer, because we're trying to encourage you to feed your face even more, oh no, no nooo!
And a large glass of wine? Why not? A bargain! But let's face it, there's no mirror in the world going to give you a Kate Moss bottom if you eat all that in one go.
Posted by Parisgirl at 7 comments:. Wednesday, 20 May Fiddle-de-dee. If one of my old editors were alive today I suspect he might write the following memo to his staff.
However, I do not ever wish to see these words appearing next to each other. The very idea that France's elected representatives should account for the spending of personal allowances or that we should learn they spent it on moats, chandeliers, loo rolls, HobNobs or whatever, is risible enough.
Add incredulity to ruptured spleens and mass hilarity. There were raised eyebrows a few years ago when food bills run up at the taxpayers' expense by Jacques Chirac when Mayor of Paris, and his wife Bernadette were investigated.
The receipts revealed a penchant for foie gras, truffles, organic yoghurt and chocolate mousse. The Frenchman believes the British row is heading into dangerous territory.
He points out, presciently I fear, that far-right leader Jean-Marie Le Pen , leader of France's Front National, has made a successful career out of claiming, among other things, that the French political system is rotten; so successful he was voted into the run-off in the presidential election.
But never mind the chocolate biscuits and toilet paper. Call me venal and disgusting but in what privileged parallel universe do people "forget" or "not realise" they have paid off their mortgage?
I know interest rates are low, but we're not talking about settling the milk bill here. Perhaps I should be less cynical.
And perhaps I should have kept La Fille at home today after she woke up this morning and announced: "I can't go to school.
I've a headache, my eyes hurt, my tummy's sore and my leg is broken. Monday, 4 May Man's Inhumanity to Man. Over the last couple of weeks the French papers have carried pictures of a dark-haired woman in large glasses whose face is etched with unimaginable pain.
She is Ruth Halimi, the mother of Ilan Halimi, a young Parisien mobile telephone salesman who was kidnapped, tortured and murdered in , allegedly by a group of youngsters who called themselves the "Barbarians".
The details emerging from the trial of those accused of Ilan Halimi's murder are truly horrific and should bring tears to the most hard-hearted or tragedy inured.
The story has been in some British papers, but bears repeating, in my view, not least because it reminds us of the wide and varied forms man's inhumanity to fellow man can take.
Ilan Halimi, aged 23, was lured into a honey trap by a pretty girl acting on the instructions of the gang leader, the court heard.
Having persuaded the young man to meet her, Ilan Halimi was then pounced on by the gang. He was, we learned, stripped naked and kept prisoner for 24 days during which his head apart from his nose was almost entirely covered in tape and he was stabbed, prodded, burned with cigarettes and beaten.
A ransom was demanded of his family. He died in an ambulance on the way to hospital. Ilan Halimi was Jewish and apparently snatched because the head of the gang - a Muslim - believed Jews to be rich and instilled with a sense of social solidarity meaning they would be more likely to come up with the demanded six-figure ransom.
Arguments, on which I make no comment, continue over whether the murder was motivated by anti-Semitism or money. What is as deeply troubling as the above details is that there are 27 young people, two of them minors at the time of the murder, in the dock.
Yes, 27 - TWENTY SEVEN - people. That's 27 people accused of being involved or having knowledge of what was happening to Ilan Halimi while it was happening not one of whom thought to inform the police or raise the alarm even anonymously.
In 20 years as a foreign correspondent I have witnessed some very gruesome events at first hand. The Balkan wars supplied enough material for a lifetime of horror movies, among them a Croatian village where dozens of mainly elderly residents had been massacred by a vaguely paramilitary group some using chainsaws to cut them in half better not to dwell too much on the premeditation involved or the physical consequences.
There was the Bosnian village where women and children and old men had been herded into the basement of a house, covered in petrol and burned alive their charred skeletons captured in the throes of an agonising death.
There were first hand accounts of the Omarska prison camp and Srebrenica , arguably the most shameful act of negligence in post Second World War European history.
In another hemisphere there were children in Sierra Leone who had had their ears and noses and limbs chopped off by machete wielding savages who had demanded: "long sleeve or short sleeve" before amputating their arms or hands.
But it is a long time since I have seen or heard anything to make me feel so helplessly angry and cry such bitter, bitter tears as the story of Ilan Halimi.
I do not know how Ruth Halimi can bear the grief so profoundly written on her it is almost tangible. She has suffered the death of her beloved son and last week she must have suffered his death a thousand times over as the man accused of his murder swaggered and shouted his defiance and showed not the slightest hint of remorse raining blows upon the mother as he was accused of doing to the son.
As Ruth Halimi contained herself, rocking back and forth in her seat in court, the so-called chief barbarian grinned and joked. I only wish I had something profound and redeeming to say about all this, but I haven't.
As a mother and a human being I just feel for Ruth Halimi. Posted by Parisgirl at 11 comments:. Monday, 27 April iPhone, uPhone, noPhone.
La Fille and I have been spending the holidays in the UK. Don't ask me how the thief performed this particularly nasty trick of spiriting away a day old phone inside a case, inside another case, inside a closed bag on the very day my new binding two-year contract came into effect, because I really have no idea.
I felt nothing. I should say that I've been lucky until now; I've never been a victim of a crime before unless you count being shot at while trying to report from warzones.
So I admit I was a bit shaken and emotional. Not hysterical after all it was "just a phone" as someone pointed out, but a bit spooked.
The reason for this wasn't just having the phone pinched - and knowing I would have to pay euros to replace it - but the fact that in the early hours of Sunday I found myself in a police station, not sure exactly where I was, without a map to find out, without a taxi rank in sight and without any means of finding out if the Frenchman and La Fille had got home safely or letting them know where I was and what was happening.
I found myself in the early hours of Sunday in a London police station talking to a young duty officer who quite clearly did not believe a word I was saying.
It wasn't that he told me he couldn't find any record on his computer of the crime report I'd already made by phone having been astonished to find that Richmond police station closes at 8.
It wasn't even that he told me there was no evidence of "theft" "the removal of something from someone with the intention of depriving them of it or use of it," as he pointed out.
It wasn't just that he was unsympathetic and suggested I'd mislaid the phone, but that he made judgments he had no right, in my opinion, to make.
What really shocked me were two comments he uttered during our exchange conducted in the station reception with him sitting about two feet behind a glass screen.
I am going to recount them as accurately as I remember given my state of distress and frustration at the time.
At some point half way through our conversation at around 1am he made a remark about "alcohol on your breath". Taken aback I said something like "I beg your pardon," and he repeated that he could smell alcohol on my breath.
He knew I'd been at a party when my phone was stolen, I'd told him that, but I didn't deem it necessary to say I'd only been at it about an hour before it was nicked nor that I hadn't drunk anything since, a period of around four hours.
I mean, I wasn't rolling drunk so what business was it of his? Then he recounted a story of how someone had come in claiming to have been attacked and had their mobile stolen in the street by two "black men" his words not mine , when it turned out the phone had been at home all the time.
Frankly I couldn't see the relevance of either of these comments except to make a judgment about me and cast doubt on my claim.
Everything I said, he shot down. The phone, fully charged at the time, was redirecting to voicemail, I said, suggesting it had been turned off.
I wrote down the letters and numbers on his shoulder tabs. I am ashamed to say that at one point I did say to the officious officer that I knew the Mayor of London which isn't strictly true though I do know several members of his close family but I was sorely provoked.
On the other hand, I did apologise for being somewhat emotional, an apology he didn't even acknowledge. In the end he flatly refused to make a crime report and gave me a grudgingly written Property Lost in Streets form on which his belief that I was a liar was evident.
Despite the property not being "lost" and certainly not "lost in streets", under 'Where Lost' he wrote: "Believed to be Later, the phone company took one look at this mealy-mouthed document and refused to put an international block on the phone meaning the thief is probably still wandering around making free use of my expensive property.
Thankfully, the female operators on the Metropolitan Police non-emergency line were less judgmental and considerably more helpful and, after hearing my tale of telephone woe, promised to send a crime report.
This is their number should you ever need them: 12 Look, I realise being the duty officer in a London police station on a Saturday night cannot be much fun and must involve fobbing off drunks and trying to spot fraudulent claims.
What I should have said was women of a certain age with energetic young children who get up early and who are on the last night of their holiday in London have better things to do in the early hours of the morning - like sleep - than hang around police stations trying to convince members of Her Majesty's police force that they are not simply a dozy cow but a genuine victim of crime.
Posted by Parisgirl at 13 comments:. Tuesday, 14 April The Rosbif and the Frogs. I am turning native. I ate frogs' legs yesterday. This is the French experience, eh?
Not much to it really, psychologically or physically unless you are a frog lover. Or a frog. You'd be hard pressed to get fat on them. For the curious they taste like very tiny chicken legs, though the squeamish might be turned by the fact they are served in pairs still joined at the hip.
I worried that La Fille might be a little disturbed by the idea as her favourite series of books at the moment is Frog and Toad.
I was ready to explain - though I'm not sure what or how - but there was no need. She was so keen the Frenchman said: "Aha! You are half French after all", as if there might be some doubt about this.
I was with French friends and the conversation turned to other national delicacies; it was admitted that the French do have some very dubious culinary habits.
For starters there's Tete de Veau , or indeed the process involved in the making of foie gras , which, is cruel even if the end product is delicious.
But there are lines to be drawn with my efforts to integrate. In this case I will make an exception to the rule, oft repeated to La Fille, that one should try something before deciding one doesn't like it.
I don't even want to know if I don't like snails. Thursday, 2 April The Ant, the Grasshopper and the Immigrant Cockroaches.
France's political incorrectness can sometimes provoke quite sharp intakes of shocked breath. Somehow I cannot see the Golliwog row happening in France.
Then again I cannot see an English schoolteacher calling one of her pupils of African origin a "Little Monkey" as la Fille tells me her French teacher did the other day, and not being severely reprimanded for racism at worst and insensitivity at best.
It is true, political correctness can be taken too far, but where is the line to be drawn? I received the following email from one of the Frenchman's friends.
At the beginning I laughed. At the end I had stopped. The words: "a gang of immigrant cockroaches" made me feel distinctly uncomfortable even in the context of cultural parody in which all the characters are insects.
Thinking I might be overreacting - it has been known - or that I'd misread the nuance, I asked La Belle Belle Fille what she thought. She declared it to be too close to the truth to be funny, but didn't seem particularly shocked.
I asked an American friend what she thought. Like me, she laughed at the beginning. At the end she said: "Noooo, that's awful.
Here's the mail translated. THE STORY - ENGLISH VERSION The ant works hard all through the summer heatwave. He builds a house and stocks up food for winter.
The grasshopper thinks the ant is stupid. He laughs, dances and plays around. Winter comes. The ant is warm and well fed. The grasshopper shivers with cold and has neither food nor shelter.
He dies of cold. END OF STORY THE STORY - FRENCH VERSION The ant works hard all through the summer heatwave. The grasshopper shivers with cold.
He organises a press conference to demand why the ant has the right to be warm and well fed when others, less fortunate than him, are cold and hungry.
Television stations organise live shows showing the grasshopper shivering with cold and include video clips of the ant in his warm house with a table covered with food.
The French are shocked that in such a rich country, a poor grasshopper can be left to suffer while others have so much.
Anti-poverty organisations protest in front of the ant's house. Jounalists run interviews claiming the ant has become rich on the back of the grasshopper.
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