So Many Things I'm Not Going To DoI'm not going to rate this book. I'm not going to give a rundown of the plot. I'm not going to take the time to process and intellectualize how it made me feel not only as a reader but as a reader who was diagnosed as bipolar type one 17 years ago. I'm not going to do any of that.
You're about to get a bundle of fresh feelings and impressions from someone who can't be the least bit objective about this book. You're about to get possible spoilers. You're about to get a review that's maybe a little raw, pulls no punches, and is blunt. I don't know any other way to write this review.
I HATED the beginning of this book. The first 50% made me want me want to punch a hole in the wall. For one thing it was needlessly flowery. All of the imagery it tried to create kept me from feeling the raw emotion that really is being bipolar type one, according to me, doctors, family and friend, and other mentally ill people I've come into contact and shared war stories with. I'm no expert but, goddammit, I have experience coming out of my ass.
I feel like I need to explain about the raw emotion that I needed to feel but that was blocked by the overuse of ten cent words and melodrama. Bipolar one is a unique type of crazy. A lot of the time that you have no control over yourself or the irrational and detrimental things you're doing, unless you are in that really deep break from reality, you are aware you're completely irrational and FUCKING EVERYTHING UP. Maybe Ash's narration was supposed to reflect the fact that he's a writer but, in my opinion, I don't give a damn who you are, what you do for living, or how smart you are, there is nothing poetic about losing your grip on sanity. It's ugly, confusing, fucked up, and sometimes it's grimly humorous. There is nothing poetic about being so tired of everything, including yourself, that you would take a blade to your own flesh. There's nothing poetic about your world shrinking down to almost nothing because mental illness has basically killed it.
There is NOTHING poetic about it. I felt like this book tried to make it that and it felt disingenuous. It made me feel removed from Ash's pain and weariness. It killed any type of compassion I might have felt for him. He was just some selfish prick, making excuses and not giving a damn how his actions affected others. It pissed me off that I felt that way. It pissed me off that I ended up feeling that creating a character like Ash and trying to justify his actions with pretty words was a cop out. I couldn't stand it and more than once I wanted to give up on this book. For 50% of the book, Ash was this horrible stereotype of the things people have told me over and over they expect from someone who is bipolar. Are there people out there like that? Probably but I'm sick of seeing that version. Absolutely sick of it and no amount of flowery and dramatic writing is going to change that.
A little around the 50% mark the book takes a turn for the better. The writing tones down and the characters become more than just stereotypes. Niall, the friend, was pleasant surprise when his motives and feelings become clear. Though he does something absolutely horrible he is also someone who's been there for Ash. Why he's been there is questionable but, in the end, it boils down to the fact that he was there. Niall's character kind of made the book for me at that point; the conversation between him and Ash at the wedding being the most authentic moment in the whole book.
Darian was a flat character for me. I liked him well enough and believed he loved Ash but was left feeling unsure of whether he could weather the storms. It had nothing to do with his level of intelligence or anything like that. I appreciated that Darian saw the man behind the mental illness but I don't think he
got it. I wasn't left feeling like he could do what Niall had been doing for years. I needed to be in Darian's head to really feel like he had some depth to him. Either that or I need more action from him than going to a wedding, cooking for Ash, and some time at the Essex Fashion Week.
And then we have Ash. I never liked him and, to tell you the truth, I don't know if I was supposed to. He was selfish, sarcastic in a way that was tinted with meanness, kind of a jerk, and just unlikable. It had a little to do with his illness but most of it seemed like that was just the way he was. As much I wasn't sure if Darian could deal with all of Ash's shit, I also didn't feel like Ash deserved Darian; not because he was mentally ill but because he needed to get his damn life together and be more deserving of the kind regard that people had for him.
This is a lot of negatives but I felt okay about the last half of the book. My overwhelming reaction, though, is not all warm and fuzzy. It's not one of deep emotion. All in all I was mostly disappointed. That's going to be a really unpopular reaction to this book but it's my honest reaction. It's too bad.