Title: The Infinite Moment of Us
Author: Lauren Myracle
Genre: Young Adult | Romance | Contemporary
Summary: For as long as she can remember, Wren Gray’s goal has been to please her parents. But as high school graduation nears, so does an uncomfortable realization: Pleasing her parents once overlapped with pleasing herself, but now… not so much. Wren needs to honor her own desires, but how can she if she doesn’t even know what they are?
Charlie Parker, on the other hand, is painfully aware of his heart’s desire. A gentle boy with a troubled past, Charlie has loved Wren since the day he first saw her. But a girl like Wren would never fall for a guy like Charlie—at least not the sort of guy Charlie believes himself to be.
And yet certain things are written in the stars. And in the summer after high school, Wren and Charlie’s souls will collide. But souls are complicated, as are the bodies that house them…
Final Rating: ♥ / ♥♥♥♥♥
This review is basically me shitting all over the book, so if you don’t like negative reviews, please don’t read this. I did not write this to offend anyone, because yes, I do believe a lot of work went into this novel. I don’t like the fact that I hated it, but I did and this is a personal blog, and I will share my absolute raw, honest opinion. Again, I mean absolutely no offense.
Look at that gorgeous cover. Isn’t it one of the most beautiful covers you’ve ever seen? Because it certainly is for me. With the typography, which is slightly raised, over the deep blue background. And the little couple in one corner in a burst of purplish-pink. It’s absolutely stunning. Which is why I picked this book up, because yes, sometimes I tend to judge a book by its cover. And this book basically showed me why I should stop doing that completely.
Because this book was a waste of both my time and my money. And the precious little space I have left in my book-shelf. It was vain, stupid, nauseating with its over-the-top amount of cheese. The characters were meant to seem perfect, but I despised them. The story led NOWHERE. The messages behind the story were non-existent, and the ones that did exist were deeply sexist and just plain wrong. I hated it. I hated it so much, it almost gave me cancer.
Wren is the perfect girl with perfect grades (except we never see her in school), with the perfect life (except she seems absolutely miserable), the perfect daughter (except she’s not.) Charlie’s in love with her, but he’s never spoken to her in his life. They talk once, fall in love within two weeks and halle-freaking-lujah, everything’s fantastic and cheesy and lovely. Except, EVERYTHING else in this story is shoved aside for their love story. Their realer problems, the things that actually had potential to be developed were all put aside because the author was too busy writing about their super lovely kisses and their horniness. There was no plot. If you want me to summarize the plot, I can do it within four sentences, and that was how long this book should have been.
Every single female character in this book is the epitome of everything a feminist hates. They were super dependent on their boyfriends, playing damsel in distress, like deers caught in headlights with no idea what to do in life except fall in love, stay together. Wren was stupidly insecure, expecting her boyfriend to leave his family for her. What the shit? It’s his family! Are you really that freaking dense? And Charlie, with his male hormones talking about his penis every two seconds. He just came off as perverted and gross and nasty. If I was in Wren’s place and knew half of what he was thinking when he was with me, I’d dump his ass. And of course he believes a woman can’t do anything for herself and needs protection, but I almost can’t blame him because Wren was just a stupid, ignorant character.
It’s a freaking shame because Lauren Myracle isn’t actually a bad writer. She doesn’t write with bad grammar or horrendous vocabulary. She doesn’t seem like she’s trying too hard. What her fingers do on their own accord is good, but the words that come out of those fingers that actually form a coherent sentence are just no.
Would I recommend? Maybe if you like Twilight or 50 Shades of Grey or any of those extremely hormonal, angsty romances that have no body whatsoever.
Would I re-read? Hell no.