It has been said that the best love songs are written about heartbreak. The same can be said about books. People love those soul-crushing, gut-wrenching, oh-my-god-this-is-the-most-painful-thing-I’ve-ever-read-and-I-might-fling-my-Kindle-out-a-window-if-they-don’t-end-up-happy books as we’re sobbing into a package of Oreos at two o’clock in the morning on a twelve-hour reading bender. Some of us are masochists like that.
