Have you ever come across something so undeniably cute that you feel like you may be crushed by the weight of squee that’s about to explode from you chest.


Kind of like when you see this?

That’s what reading The Notebook was like. The romantic tone of The Notebook was both its greatest asset and biggest downfall. Nobody wants to be crushed by squee anymore
than they want to drown in their own tears and The Notebook wants to destroy you. Never doubt that. Whether it’s leaching your bodily liquids out of you until you resemble The Ice Man or boring you to death.

Really, those are the only two options you’ve got with this book. Who can stand to see something as cute as that kitten up there all day every day? You need something not so cute to break up the boredom. Similarly, in The Notebook, the long, romantic verses filled with poetry and stunning imagery will ultimately become tiresome the longer you read it.

Probably it’s just me. In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m not exactly the most romantic person out there. In my relationship it’s my husband who is the romantic. He’s the one that makes me breakfast in bed every single morning and puts a rose from the garden on my tray. He’s the one that calls me to see how my day’s gone and sends me soppy, romantic messages.

If you’re a sentimental, sweet kind of person (two adjectives nobody has ever applied to me) then I’m sure you’d like this book and it would do you justice. For those who like a little more “action” in the literary sack then this book may tend to waffle on and be overly mushy.


Now THAT’S more like it!