The car crash that killed his parents was so horrifying that we only start getting details in Every Word. Mycroft is properly messed up after his ordeal seven years prior to Every Breath. These guys are damaged and screwed up and not in that polished way that sometimes is the case with the “damaged goods” characters. The thing about these characters is that they are so fundamentally flawed that they jump off the page. Now we can barely have a civil conversation. Two days ago we were kissing each other senseless. I found myself reliving my teenage trysts as I saw Mycroft and Watts navigate the awkward aftermath of Mycroft running off to London without so much as saying goodbye to Watts: Marney nailed this teenaged insecurity perfectly. It was never spoken about but that is my theory anyway.
I think because I wouldn’t “put out”, as my American friends would say. I started getting a complex in my final years of school, because my “relationships” didn’t last longer than a few weeks, possibly a month. I’m trying really hard to forget that that is a six-month-wait-at-best scenario.ĭo you remember your first very serious boyfriend/girlfriend in high school? You loved them so much and were terrified that you would do something wrong and that they wouldn’t love you anymore? The insecurity was paralysing. And now I have to wait until 2015 for the last instalment, Every Move. So I’ve only just finished this awesome book. I wanted to read it all in one sitting like I did with Every Breath, because there really is no better way to get a feel for the story, but I physically couldn’t do it. This whole motion sickness thing was especially annoying for me because I was working my way through Every Word. I used to have these magnetic wrist bands that helped me with this annoying affliction, but I lost them in one of my moves over the past four years. And every time I travel I conveniently forget that if I read more than ten pages or so, I get motion sick. Time spent travelling may be the best time we get to read: no one wants to talk to you and you have hours upon hours of boredom to bust. But I am nothing if not a budget conscious uni student. If I weren’t so cheap, I may have been able to cut that time in half, or even into thirds, by flying directly from Canberra to Brisbane instead of catching a bus to Sydney and then flying to Brisbane. In the past week I spent approximately twelve hours on buses, aeroplanes, and in airports getting from Canberra to Brisbane and back again. Motion sickness has to be the worst of life’s little insecurities for a bookworm like me.
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