Mary Maffer's Reviews > On the Island

On the Island by Tracey Garvis-Graves
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May 16, 12

I assume you are reading my review because its one of the few two star ones. Knowing this, I am going to go ahead and spoil most of this story for you.

There were once two shoes, owned by a sixteen year old boy named TJ. Admittedly, these shoes--well, they were kind of fancy, because TJ was a rich boy, but they were the kind of shoes you could count on to survive the long haul.

One day they met their greatest test. TJ and his thirty year old "smoking hot" English teacher crash landed near an uninhabited island. In the aftermath, TJ kicked his sneakers off in a desperate attempt to drag himself and his gorgeous blond haired, blue eyed, 5'6", 120 pound year old companion to the shore.

Through the weeks that followed those shoes floated on. Various survival situations/unresolved sexual tension must have occurred on that island, and surely a suitcase conveniently stuffed with toiletries appeared one day to keep the small band of survivors well groomed. But the shoes wandered, in search of no experiences other than to reunite with their owner.

One day, one of the shoes fulfilled his quest and washed up on the shore. His heart leapt with joy as he heard the familiar sound of his owner casually remark, "I figured it would wash up eventually." He ached with loss, though, at his lost wandering tennis shoe mate, at his own relative uselessness, and it was not until the other tennis shoes
ocean washed up too, several MORE improbable weeks later, that the lost shoes felt at peace again.

Then more survival stuff happened, plus a May/December romance, TJ outgrowing his shoes, the death of a shark by the hands of several dolphins, and finally a cataclysmic tsunami which washed completely over the island, destroying trees and hurling devastating debris (example: concrete) everywhere. But as the shoes bobbed away, beginning a new journey, TJ (now a man) and his teacher (still hot) paddled water, dodged trees, concrete, etc, until they were rescued by helicopters.

Then they (the people, not the shoes) went back to Chicago and there are 150 angst-filled pages of a romance novel.

The end.
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