Author: Rosamund Hodge
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Shelves: Favorites, More Please?, Fantasy/pnr/everything untoward, Why Wasn’t I Born Here?, fairy Tale and/or Retelling
I knew it was insane to be happy, to feel this desperate exultation at his words.
Do you what I was doing while all this was going on? I was happy and desperately exulted at his words. I knew it was insane.
Oh my lovelies, I am so fucking angry and sad that this book ended. I want it to go on and on and on and on and never stop, which has become more than rare- the last book that came a bit close to it was A Mad Wicked Folly. Excuse me while I go sulk or have a screaming match with my family(therapy, you know).
But guyyyyyyyyyssss…I GOT Nyx and I loved Ignifex like you won’t believe. I feel like I lost something when I finished the book, something precious and unique and something I’ll never get back again. Re-reading will only bring me closer but never there. I know I’m being theatrical and crap but I can’t help myself.
This is the closest I’ll ever get to write a review of it. Or something with the semblance of a review. Or maybe I’m simply deluding myself.
Like I said, I GOT Nyx, every step of the way. She’s not perfect and the most kind but the thing is, I recognized a bit of myself in her, and I feel rather presumptuous and pretentious saying that but that’s how I feel. I felt her falling for the Ignifex, and I fell myself. I love him like I’ve known him all my life; I know Nyx like I’ve been her my entire life.
The writing was good, not overtly fabulous. However, the imagery was great except the one time it icked me out:
The sound crawled up my body like a thousand cold little feet.
Like a fucking episode from Fear Factor.
There was one thing I couldn’t reconcile with, regarding Astraia and Nyx yet I simply don’t want to include it. I’m a horrible reviewer! But I feel like I will burst into the fucking Niagara Falls.(You should know this is a heavy metaphor for me cuz falls are to me what Greek gods were to the early Greeks. Meant to be revered and feared.)
Dear Rosamund Hodge,
I am not going to acknowledge you, ever. I apologize but accepting that somebody wrote Cruel Beauty, somebody thought of it, that you created it will ruin everything for me. This is one way I believe myself to be entirely different: sometimes I can lie to myself, and lie honestly and believably. I don’t want to accept that this is just a story because I plan on revisiting it and living it countless times.
IMO, this is the highest praise I can give you.
The Creepster Who Won’t Be Able to Visit the land of Dreams, Regretfully
Dear Cruel Beauty,
“That’s what makes you my favorite.”
He reached up and wiped a tear off my cheek with his thumb.“Every wicked bit of you.”
The Creepster Who Won’t Be Able to Visit the land of Dreams and Invade Your World, Regretfully
I didn’t want to be the one to forget
I thought of everything I’d never regret
A little time with you is all that I get
That’s all we need because it’s all we can take…
…You used me once, you fled, looking, it was dark
You made an offer for it, then you ran off
Balzer+Bray, I don’t always love you but when I do, I do.