John Green and I have a private romance, by the way. In my head. And insofar as he can do no wrong, I loved loved loved this book. But then I got to thinking a bit about what I love about his writing. He’ll have his character thinking all kinds of intricate, intelligent, self-analytical thoughts but only able to mutter, “Uh huh,” around his hormones. That rings true to me.

So I guess the Margo/Q encounter was jarring to me because it was too eloquent once they got cookin’. I mean, both characters had a lot of time to think, of course, but the dialog rang as a tad self-indulgent on the author’s part. It sounded like conversations I script in my head after the fact – the “I shoulda saids” of life. And the idea that Margo had a crush on him all along…? I’d like to write a book about my not-so-prom-date of yore where it turns out like that, but I’d call it therapy and keep it in a veeery safe place where nunnayall could read it.

Am I just cynical, here? Do correct me.

Gotta love that this book made me laugh out loud on the train. Embarrassing, but worth it.