tortuguita21's Book Journey

this novel took root in my brain, behind my eyes, in my heart, roots and thorns wrapped around them all until there was nothing else to feel. i drank it in, ravenous for more, for the pain, the fury, the vengeance, blossoming deep in my bones. all of drews’ books grasp humanity by the throat in bizarre, verdant, traitorous shapes. there is tragedy, yes, but a bittersweet beauty nonetheless, a cradling of what is precious. perhaps there could not be any other ending but one steeped in sorrow, and yet still, that thread, that plunging forward you take to hold its hand until the end you know is coming, is the pulse you seek to flutter your hesitant, then hungry, fingers along.