I have mixed feels for these books; the characters and style of writing. I believe it is creative, new and young. Different, we’ll say.
Hmm… Where to begin?
I’ll start with some of the shocking lines from Shatter Me, a book which to be fair, I pretty much hated and couldn’t wait to finish. My face throughout the whole experience was something close to what Ron Wealsey’s face looked like when they follow the spiders in Chamber of Secrets.
Yeah; it was that bad.
I always wonder about raindrops.
I wonder about how they’re always falling down, tripping over their own feet, breaking their legs and forgetting their parachutes as they tumble right out of the sky toward an uncertain end. It’s like someone is emptying their pockets over the earth and doesn’t seem to care where the contents fall, doesn’t seem to care that the raindrops burst when they hit the ground, that they shatter when they fall to the floor, that people curse the days the drops dare to tap on their doors.
I am a raindrop.
My parents emptied their pockets of me and left me to evaporate on a concrete slab.
Yeah… that’s called raining.
I AM A RAINDROP.
I am nothing but novocaine. I am numb, a world of nothing, all feeling and emotion gone forever.
I am a whisper that never was.
He leans back against the couch. Runs a free hand over his face. Seasons change. Stars explode. Someone is walking on the moon.
Just… what? Who’s walking where? I thought he just sat down?
Now I could have accepted the odd burst of fantastical creativity through literary license; the main character Juliette is in an asylum and slowly losing her mind, but the extent of the crossing out and the repetition, frankly drags. I kind of just want to bellow at Mafi “WE GET IT; YOU’RE CREATIVE.”
But I won’t be too harsh on her; this author isn’t even 30 so I guess she’s still finding herself, right?
Shatter Me was just a bit of a disaster; a little bit of this and oh I’m in love with him, ooh raindrops oh no he’s dying cry cry cry oh I saved him and now I’m wearing a purple suit and all I want to do is make out with my weird ass boyfriend (who either has the personality capacity of a spoon or cardboard box; I haven’t decided yet) and mope around with my feelings ooh my feelings.
But I’ll give the girl some credit; Unravel Me is BETTER.
Yeah, at times I just want to kill Juliette (sorry), but it feels like we’re finally getting somewhere with Mafi’s writing! There is more of a story present and plot twists that actually came out of bloody nowhere and I LIKED IT. There were still some questionable choices though;
I want to study the secrets tucked between his elbows and the whispers caught between his knees.
Okay; I’m sorry but who whispers between people’s knees? Gynecologists? This is a dude who’s elbows have secrets…
Actually every time I read this line I burst out laughing.
But then Mafi’s creativeness really does pay off through Unravel Me at times.
“So much of it was like seeing myself on paper,” he whispers. “Like reading all the things I never knew how to say.”
I’ll give her that one. It was gooey and I liked it; don’t fault me, I am still young.
It’s the kind of face no one believes in anymore.
Terror waves hello to me.
See! Now that last one gave me shivers and it was clever without trying too hard.
There is so much sexual tension in Unravel Me to the point I felt abused just reading it literally; WHOA I thought this was fluffy innocence and cheesy romance? I have to say I’ve got a problem with how Juliette sudden (SO GODDAMN SUDDENLY) falls in love with the man/boy who tortured her and her friends and kills for fun in the first book. Just what? I feel like Mafi had a change of heart on who she wanted as a villain and expected the reader to just go along with it. Don’t get me wrong; all the romantic stuff was good, but I felt it was so uncalled for.
Also damn her; I’ve now added a psychotic killing machine (who’s broken inside; go figure) to my list of ever growing fictional boyfriends.
I didn’t love this; I really didn’t. But it’s getting better and I always loved reading authors who grow with me (occasionally on me); so I’ll be finishing this book series out of curiosity as well as the books looking so pretty on my bookshelf; I mean cover artist: you da bomb.