Every Hidden Thing

When I first heard about this book I thought, hmm, Wild West, dinosaurs, Romeo and Juliet - what an intriguing mix! I definitely need to read this book, plus the cover is gorgeous. And so the waiting began: it was one of my most anticipated releases of the month. Imagine my surprise when everything derailed so fast, I couldn't even say "Bummer".

I will split the structure of this book in two: on one side we have the plot, on the other side we have characters.

The story follows two rival families o

When I first heard about this book I thought, hmm, Wild West, dinosaurs, Romeo and Juliet - what an intriguing mix! I definitely need to read this book, plus the cover is gorgeous. And so the waiting began: it was one of my most anticipated releases of the month. Imagine my surprise when everything derailed so fast, I couldn't even say "Bummer".

I will split the structure of this book in two: on one side we have the plot, on the other side we have characters.

The story follows two rival families of archeologist; they both want to find the king of the dinosaurs -tyrannosaur "Rex" and become famous. Feuding fathers ask both their children to spy on each other for valuable information, and, as you can guess, the children fall in love. But their romantic relationship wasn't what kept me reading, it was the description of 19th century archeology and what it took to risk your life for the sake of ancient bones and dust. It is not as romantic as one can imagine: the job is dirty and takes a lot of effort and no guarantee of success; plus there's quite a difficult situation with Native American tribes, and to be on your own without army for protection is pretty dangerous. The book will introduce readers to the hardship of the "romantic" profession. I really liked that side of the book and it kept me interested till the end.

The characters, though, were a complete disappointment. Unfortunately, it's a rare case when I must admit the author did a poor job creating a female character. The heroine turned out cold, cardboard, mannish and absolutely unlikable. I had way more sympathy toward the hero who was more feminine and feeling than his beloved could ever dream.

What good can you expect when MC spends five minutes in heroines company and already has a boner? Moreover, he irrecoverably fell in love with the said girl. After. Five. Minutes.

She looked at me, and I couldn’t look away. <...>It took me completely by surprise: With absolute certainty, I knew I’d fall in love with her.

But what I disliked even more between these two is how their intimate life together was shown.

Hurriedly I stripped off my sweaty trousers and shirt and vest and underpants. In dismay I looked down to see myself—that part which had always been so lively and troublesome in the past—suddenly and completely withered.
“It’s . . . ,” I mumbled, tensing my thigh muscles and urging it to lift, “suddenly defective. I don’t know what to do with the fellow.”

And my favorite:

Later he snored; once he passed wind quite musically. I hadn’t imagined what it would be like to share a bed with a man—especially one so active and greedy in his sleep.

Also, characters' relationship felt far-fetched; the hero is a handsome boy and the heroine is plain (she is not even pretty), but hero falls for her from the first sight anyway. I get when a girl is a beauty and a boy falls for her, but that doesn't guarantee it's true love: it's easier to like a pretty face. Here I had no idea why he fell for the girl. Plus, the more they secretly dated, the more the heroine seemed unfeeling. I am not even sure she realized whether she loves him in the end. It was a total mess. Plus their peculiar relationship spoiled the plot completely. As I mentioned, I absolutely liked the historical part, but the romance made it impossible to like the whole book. Even the ending, when you suppose to root for characters and wish they finally found the dinosaur, I felt nothing.

I still have a sour taste in my mouth after I finished this book. I debated for a whole day whether to give it two or three stars and decided farting is not my thing, after all.

Generally, if you are interested in archeology and how it occurred in the 19th century, you can try this book, but be ready for the characters, whose voices will be your guide in a sea of bones. You need to ask yourself: are you ready for that or not?

Hurriedly I stripped off my sweaty trousers and shirt and vest and underpants. In dismay I looked down to see myself—that part which had always been so lively and troublesome in the past—suddenly and completely withered.
“It’s . . . ,” I mumbled, tensing my thigh muscles and urging it to lift, “suddenly defective. I don’t know what to do with the fellow.” “Let him alone for now,” she said.
“Lie down beside me.”

“I think it’s seen many,” she laughed, bouncing on the saggy mattress.
We each bounced a bit, seeing who could make the longest and most tortured squeak. The sheets, though clean enough, couldn’t quite conceal the mildew of the mattress. And a faint whiff of urine that came and went when one moved around. But our door was bolted, and the window curtained, and this little room was ours alone.

When I moved myself on top of her, it took a bit of fumbling to find the right place. But after that it felt like her body and mine, all our parts, were designed to fit perfectly together.
She winced. Her eyes were wide, and we watched each other, mesmerized. I felt a huge heat and urgency flooding me, but her face flinched with my movements. Then her eyes closed tight and her eyelids crinkled and water beaded from their edges.

I stroked her hair and inhaled her scent and stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t quite believe anything right now. I felt exultant and terrified. I felt like a conquering hero, and like a soldier shot and waiting for death. I felt that I’d never sleep again, but I did. We both did.

And then I didn’t want to be alone any longer, so I kissed your mole, traced its shape with the tip of my tongue.

Because now the pain was fading, and I was beginning to recognize the pleasurable tightening, the spreading heat I sometimes gave myself, only this time it was more urgent, and much, much better.

We kissed each other for a long time, and as the train shuddered and pulled and rocked through the darkness, our hands moved over each other, exploratory, gentle at first. We were patient with each other, and then neither of us could be patient anymore. Your right hand still hurt, but we figured it out—we were very clever, both of us, with our hands—and the only difficult part for me was not crying out.

I nestled with my back against your chest and stomach, your legs folded with mine, your arm across my breast, enclosed on all sides by you, and your unique marinade of desert and sweat and rarely laundered clothes, and yet you still managed to smell good.

As the train moved us east across the prairie, across that ancient inland sea, I thought how little of us got left behind after death. How none of the most important parts survived. It all decomposed: kisses, caresses, tongues, mouths. Passion spent itself in our animal heat, dissipated as vapor, left no permanent record. No echoes of spoken words, moans, gasps, endearments would be stored in the earth’s layers.

I hoped that when they found us, me and you, we’d be entwined together just like this, among the dinosaurs, in the ruins of the world.