
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
Young adult, about a twelve-year-old girl and her father who can read people and objects out of books into reality, and the other way around.
Puzzled – I should have loved this, and just . . . didn’t. I mean, it’s all about metafiction and rewriting narratives, and you’d think I’d be all over this like white on rice, yeah? And yet, it never even twigged beyond vague esthetic interest; I certainly never gave a damn about a single character’s existence.
Best guess? I think this book is exactly wrong, style-wise for me. I just do not get a story all about loving books so much you just fall into them and they come alive, when the story itself works so hard for distance with omniscient POV, and choppy chapters, and distracting epigraphs everywhere. How does that seem like a good set of choices?
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