Author: Laini Taylor
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Shelves: favorites, fantasy-pr-everything-untoward, more-please, why-wasn-t-i-born-here
…then he farted. Squinching up his face, he did so with effort. The reward was slight in resonance but grand in aroma…
You loved the first two books? You’re going to love this one. You didn’t love them? You won’t love this book. Seriously, that is allll you need to know. That is all I want to tell; I had so many things to shit about, inconsistencies to point out and how the climax was short-lived and not really climatic, cynical guns to pull out from within this tiny capsule of a brain, but now all poosh! I simply believe in a soul singing to another, love that happens too soon, too fast and for this book, at least, fucking burn down that infernal concept of
insta-love. Because now all I want are godstars, and soon.
Give me my fucking cake!
I can’t possibly imagine moving on from this non-ending, until(not unless, I can’t bear that) another book comes along. How am I supposed to read anything else? Why would I? I think I need to consider math as a distraction if I ever hope to get anything done.
To sum it up:
It was an ending overlapped by a beginning, and it was thrilling and confounding, primal and terrifying, electric and delicious.
I want T-shirts.
Respect. The Dirt.
BECAUSE YOU JUST NEVER KNOW WHAT’S BEHIND
THE FREAKING SKY.
(I hate endings, I do.)
(Perfect trilogy, though.)