I hated reading as a high schooler. In fact, I wouldn't even read the Cliff Notes. Lame.
Youth is wasted on the young. George Bernard Shaw
Ennyhoo. Last night I finished My Sister's Keeper and actually gasped at the ending. From out of left field, it knocked me for a loop. Great book. Highly recommend if you've not read it.
The thing I enjoyed about it, other than the gripping storyline, is the way the author described details in beautiful ways.
"Normal, in our house, is like a blanket too short for a bed-- sometimes it covers you just fine, and the other time it leaves you cold and shaking; and worst of all, you never know which of the two it's going to be."
"When you have been with your partner for so many years, they become the glove compartment map that you've worn dog-eared and white-creased, the trail you recognize so well you could draw it by heart and for this very reason you keep it with you on journeys at all times. And yet, when you least expect it, one day you open your eyes and there is a familiar turnoff, a vantage point that wasn't there before, and you have to stop and wonder if maybe this landmark isn't new at all, but rather something you have missed all along."
These are just two example of how she cleverly describes something as obscure as "normal" to a blanket, her husband as a much used road map. My favorite quote, though, of the whole book occurs near the end:
"You don't love someone because they are perfect; you love them in spite of the fact that they're not."
This is such a huge lesson. I had to learn it many many years back. In fact, I imagine the moment I learned it, somewhere inside, my soul matured with a great explosion. To choose to love despite the warts and all. This is not taught when we are children. It is an adult lesson. And, oftentimes, it is a hard one.