Gush, Gush

Rebel Angels

Libba Bray

2006

I cannot eat. I cannot sleep.

Or maybe "barely" is more suitable a description.  I did have a pretty big lunch, but I had nothing but soup for dinner.

Because of a book.

I was still awake around 2:30 this morning, twisting and turning to keep myself from going back and opening the book to read just another paragraph or two.

Please?

It's never good when I bargain with myself.

I managed to sleep eventually.  Maybe the realization that I had to wake up freaking early today finally convinced me to put the book down and get some necessary sleep.

The book in question: Libba Bray's "Rebel Angels", second book in the Gemma Doyle trilogy.

I can't explain how it happened, but I haven't been this obsessed in YEARS.

Blame it on my friend Baboyita, who got me hooked.

Yesterday, I stood up to lean over the partition that separated us, and I said with much conviction: "I'm getting the next two books in the trilogy."

She lent me the first one, like pushers are wont to do for potential addicts, knowing that I would not be able to resist the temptation.

It would be impossible to ask me for a proper review now.  I can't. I'm much too in love with the characters, daft and irritating they may sometimes be.  I love Kartik, the brave but wavering Indian boy with beautiful lashes and kisses that taste of cinnamon.  I love Gemma, the annoying and gullible girl with more secrets than anyone should be allowed to harbor.

I love every little inch of the book, and asking me for anything rational at the moment is seriously impossible.

It's like asking me to explain me why I like Harry Potter, or bubble wrap, or gnawing my fingernails.  There are no words.

And now I'm done with this book.

I'm just taking a quick and breathless break to gush, bathe and dive back into my bed with the next installment.