I read this a couple of years ago, and suddenly I just had the urge to go back and reread it. It’s one of my favorite books, but reading it again now made me realize how much I missed when I first read it. There’s something bittersweet about the way the book is told, and how it ends. It’s not sad, but it doesn’t give you a happy feeling at the end, either. Just something…content? I’m not sure how to explain it. Very real. The only thing that throws me off a little is how prevalent suicide is, but that’s just the cultural difference.
If you haven’t read it, I recommend it! It’s a lovely book and a quick read, although you do spend time thinking about it afterwards.