Because I’ve recently found out I have blood pressure problems, I’ll try to rage less in this chapter. That’s not to say I won’t rage, but instead of screaming to the heavens about literary injustice, I’ll try and make it witty and sarcastic and actually funny.
I let myself into the house, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, then head upstairs to my room, since I don’t have to poke around any further to know Sabine’s still at work. Sabine’s always at work, which means I get this whole huge house to myself, pretty much all the time, even though I usually just stay in my room.
Absent parental figure, check. One more shot of Qoo. Another example of lazy writing. Oh, the question of how on earth Ever is going to cope with the loss of her family has been raised? I don’t want to write about old characters when I can footle around writing pages upon pages about how hot Damen is. Foolproof plan. The readership won’t give a damn either.
I feel bad for Sabine. I feel bad that the life she worked so hard for was forever changed the day she got stuck with me. But since my mom was an only child and all of my grandparents had passed by the time I was two, it’s not like she had much of a choice.
I can understand where the Amazon reviewers are coming from when they say that this is a rip-off of ‘Twilight’, using an almost exact template. Girl moves from somewhere we don’t care about to somewhere else she doesn’t really know about to live with a distant parental figure that she’s not going to interact with that much in favor of someone who is more attractive. I mean, who needs parents when you have Adonis-like boyfriends? It’s not as if they really care. They probably just don’t want you to get hurt, but pshh… you know you can take care of yourself perfectly well. After all, you already know everything there is to know under the sun and above it. Classic literature FTW! And besides, you have Edward/Damen/Jace/Patch/Whatever to take care of you!
See, you don’t need parents.
And then, we get this boatload of description. It’s not even done well.
I mean, I have all the usual things like a bed, a dresser, and a desk. But I also have a flat screen TV, a massive walk-in closet, a huge bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub and separate shower stall, a balcony with an amazing ocean view, and my own private den/ game room, with yet another flat screen TV; a wet bar, microwave, mini fridge, dishwasher, stereo, couches, tables, beanbag chairs, the works.
I’m sorry honey, but I just don’t give a fuck. Also, why is the ‘J’ in ‘Jacuzzi’ capitalised? Is it supposed to be? I wonder what ‘the works’ are. Sounds mysterious. Sorry if I seem a little stupid, I’ve never seen it capitalised before.
I guess since Sabine spends most of her time around other lawyers and all those VIP executives her firm represents, she actually thought all of this stuff was necessary or something.
Well, she obviously didn’t expect to be landed with a brat like you, did she? Shut up and be thankful that you have a house to badly describe, you little twit.
After that weird descriptiondump (new word, yay me!) about her room, Ever starts telling us about her marvelous gift of psychicness. She gets things wrong sometimes, doesn’t always know what people are thinking, but then says this:
Anyway, I don’t think you have to be clairvoyant to know that when people dream of having kids they’re usually thinking in terms of a pastel-wrapped, tiny bundle of joy, and not some five-foot-four, blue-eyed, blond-haired teenager with psychic powers and a ton of emotional baggage. So because of that, I try to stay quiet, respectful, and out of Sabine’s way.
It may just be me, but that first sentence sounds like a rather imaginative way of letting me know what you look like. At least it’s not a mirror scene, thank God. But that last one… at least try and connect with your guardian, dudette. It’s not asking for much.
She’s stuck with you, she’s given you all that shit you told us about above, you might as well try and look thankful instead of telling us you don’t talk to her much. Jeez. Shut up and say thank you.
And I definitely don’t let on that I talk to my dead little sister almost every day.
Is this where things get interesting? Please? Pretty please? Please write this scene well and handle it tactfully, Noël.
So we’re told that Ever saw Riley for the first time (after her death) at the hospital, where she assumed she was hallucinating.
One problem I have with this book is that the settings are underdescribed, if that’s a word. There is no real detail in any of the settings, so the whole foundation holding the book up is stick-thin. She, like so many YA Paranormal Romance authors out there, has lost sight of what the readers actually care about. Not a hot Love Interest. A story. A good story. Is that too much to ask?. Forget what she said above about her room.
So then Ever’s in the hospital, and while she’s there, Riley shows her a painting of a beautiful landscape.
rude interruption by Potatoman
Hey, did you guys notice that her school and stuff weren’t really described that much? Is it your stereotypical, everyday high school? That, to me, forms a barrier in my mind and prevents me from imagining the settings in detail which seems like an important part when writing fiction. It just separates me from the characters and stops me from caring. But it’s not as if I cared much anyway.
Anyway, Sabine asks Ever to make a list of all the stuff that she’d like to bring with her to California.
I just couldn’t bear a single reminder of everything I’d lost, since it’s not like some stupid box full of crap would ever bring my family back.
You know, that box full of crap contains things that belonged to your family. In a way, you’re disrespecting their memory by calling their belongings ‘crap’. Just letting you know, dumbass.
Facepalm God, we’re actually supposed to like this girl? Cheese and rice.
The whole time I was cooped up in that sterile white room, I received regular visits from a psychologist, some overeager intern with a beige cardigan and clipboard, who always started our sessions with the same lame question about how I was handling my “profound loss” (his words, not mine).
Oh em gee, this guy wants to help me get over this huge loss and actually move on with my life and all I want to do is tell him to go fuck himself. What’s wrong with that? I REALLY HATE THIS BITCH.
So Ever goes to her new house in California and goes to her room, crying her eyes out. Then, Riley shows up, tells her to stiffen up her upper lip and appreciate the view. And whaddya know? The view outside is exactly the same as the painting that she showed Ever in the hospital. Whoooo… mystical. What a coinkydink.
With that, the chapter ends. If you guys found this more subdued side of me boring, let me know and I’ll try and be a little more on fire next time. Until then, goodbye and thanks for reading!