I loved reading until the Johnny Tremaine slog in the 7th grade.
Was the first time I ever thought, “Maybe I’ve been wrong all this time. Maybe reading actually sucks.”
It took me almost a year after JT to start reading for pleasure again
Came here to say this.
It’s one of the most arrogant, sophomoric books I’ve ever read – second only to anything written by Daniel Quinn
I find myself getting annoyed when Keeley gives Roy such a hard time when he’s quietly being cavalier about death then she turns around and makes a huge ruckus at the funeral.
The server at The Yankee Doodle Burger Barn said it best: