Lately, I’ve had a streak of really good books, and this particular one I’m blogging about was really engrossing. I began reading it today after checking it out from the public library (along with Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson and Trash by Dorothy Allison) and finished it a few minutes ago; I simply couldn’t put it down. The magnetism of the main character, her passion for art, made me want to share the same exhilaration she felt, the same sense of purpose, of longing. The stark realization that Ellie and Nate’s relationship’s end is strikingly similar to the deterioration of mine. Ellie’s duration of blissful certainty which gradually blurred into hesitance is really akin to mine, and it made the book that much more real. And Ellie’s final acceptance of the faults in her past conscience and wayward reasoning really bring closure by the end of the novel, which was a sigh of relief. ( )