You know why Katie McGarry’s books work for me? They remind me of Boy Meets World.
When I was a kid, I loved that show. So much the ’90s.
*Boy Meets World*
By the time I started watching that show, I’m pretty sure they were on the last season. I loved the soap-opera drama, the bromance relationship between Cory (the kid with everything. A good home. A loving family. Security.) and Shawn (the kid from across the tracks. Constantly being moved. Nobody wanting him. A chip on his shoulder. Always feeling empty inside.)
Katie McGarry: You have re-created this for me in your books. The only difference is you upped the drama, pushed the intensity level of the relationships, and made the stakes look like 2pac had it good.
*2PAC!!!! So badass.*
This is the guy that got shot 9 fucking times. It wasn’t until that 9th shot that he died. He had it rough. Yeah. That shit you do to your characters, well it makes it look like he got off easy.
I love Pushing the Limits. It was so good. I don’t even have the words to describe how much I love the relationship between Echo and Noah. I did not have that feeling with this book. I have so many issues and problems and confusion and shit with this book I don’t even know where to start.
Instead of loving it, I kept thinking of GREASE.
*IT’S ELECTRIFYING CHEESE!*
McGarry really handed out the cheese in this one. Everytime I thought I was enjoying it, Isaiah or Rachel would reminisce on their insta-love relationship with an epic proportion of words that look remarkably similar to vomit. It probably has some cheese chunks in there somewhere.
Forty-eight hours have officially passed since I met Rachel. I’ve thought about her; her beauty, he laughter, that shy smile, our kiss. She discovered a deep hole in my chest and somehow filled it with her existence. Now she’s gone, leaving me alone, leaving me hollow.
I like Isaiah. He’s a cool guy. He’s got tats, but he’s a nice guy. Genuine and real. I really like that. What I don’t like is that periodically he would let emotions get to overwhelming heights and start to say things that I find hard to believe any real guy would truly say. I have brothers. I know them like I know the back of my hand and I know that guys don’t think like this. They can be sweet, kind, wonderful, mean, loving, tough, and gross, but one thing they aren’t: a soap opera cheese master bending on his knees like a tattooed and pierced punked out Romeo. Too much, McGarry. Back it way up.
There’s also a lot of repetition in this book. There’s lots of vibrating of veins, garage doors, skulls, and blood. But there’s more! I’ve also felt like I’ve read the same sentence possibly 3 times in this one book:
Adrenaline begins to leak into my bloodstream, and I silently pray for Isaiah to stride back into the door.
There are too many sentences involving: Bloodsteam, adrenaline, vibrate, electricity, and rush. It’s irksome and annoying to read repetition. I want to pay attention to the story instead of these repetitive sentences, but I can’t. I get that twitchy feeling.
CRAZY READER TURNS INTO EDITOR MODE. ROAR. ROAARRRR. ROAAAAAARRRRRRR!!!
I loved Echo, but I can not get on board with Rachel. I love that she’s a nerd for cars. I love that she’s an introvert. I love that she’s uncomfortable socializing and being the center of attention. What I do not like:
1. That she was late to realize that she too committed to the problems in her home. Her relationship isn’t just her mother’s fault. She never tried to show her mom the real her. She was a little late in speaking up for herself. You can’t sit back and expect things to change. You have to change them if you want them to change. If you want respect, own it. Ask for it. Don’t just sit there. Speak.
2. She jumps to conclusions. An example:
It’s a rare gift and he gave it to her. Our fight must have opened his eyes. The crash must have revealed his true feelings. And his feelings aren’t for me.
*Stares at you. Raises eyebrow. REALLY?*
3. She’s got a catatonic level of self-conscious emotions going on. If she’s not jumping to conclusions, she’s telling people that they think she’s weak. Can we be done with heroines that hate themselves? I get being a little self conscious, but this a Titanic is sinking type of self loathing. Okay, maybe it wasn’t Karina Halle type of heroine self hatred, but it was still pretty epic in proportion. Turn it way way down, McGarry. Example:
“I am not weak.”
His eyes widen. “I never said you were.”
I pull a hand through my hair and tug at the strands, hoping that I’m wrong. But I’m not. “You’re just like my brothers. You see me as fragile and stupid and as someone who can’t make her own decisions.”
*I am so done with this shit*
4. She irrationally trusts someone she barely knows without much reason. Say I’m seventeen years old and I’m drag racing. I’m yearning for the rush and danger. I’m expected to be responsible all the time at home. So I decide to have one night of danger. I don’t know much about what I’m doing. Right? I meet this hot guy with tattoos. I ask him to help me and he does. He helps me hide from the police and I help him hide from the police for illegal racing. Because he helped me and I think that because he didn’t hurt me that I can trust him. I still have the hots for him and trust him. We start to talk about cars. We start to date. What do you think? Am I smart? Have I made a mistake in trusting him even though I’ve barely known him for 3 hours? What if he wasn’t a nice guy?
What if instead of this sweet and sexy guy:
He’s this guy:
His name is Jeffrey Dahmer. He’s a serial killer. And I just fell in love with him.
2 Stars: I enjoyed this book. I love McGarry, but this book was too cheesy for my taste. Maybe the next one will be better.