The way Gansey saw it was this: if you had a special knack for finding things, it meant you owed the world to look.
There was something unbearably sexy about cars at night, Ronan thought. The way the fenders twisted the light and reflected the road, the way every driver became anonymous. The sight of them knocked his heartbeat askew.
Calla readjusted, wrapping the silk around her other thigh instead. “Which one’s he again? The pretty one?” Blue and Gansey exchanged a look. Blue’s look said, I’m so, so sorry. Gansey’s said, Am I the pretty one?
I can tell you that as a writer and as a reader, I regard character as king. Or queen. No matter how riveting the action or interesting the plot twists, if I don’t feel like I’m meeting someone who feels real, I’m not going to be compelled to read further.
I adore book-to-film adaptations when they’re done well, and I’m more lenient than many readers when it comes to what counts as ‘done well.’ For me, the most important thing is that the film maintains the spirit of the original book.
That was a weird thought. My straight-up mother being bothered by faeries? Delia was even weirder. I could picture the scene. Faerie: Come away, human. Delia: Why? Faerie: Untold delights and youth forever. Delia: I’m holding out for a better offer. Ta.
Mum liked to say that some things happen for a reason, that sometimes obstacles were there to stop you from doing something stupid.
Would we be so enamored with dystopian fiction if we lived in a culture where violent death was a major concern? It wouldn’t be escapism.
I’m sorry no one saved you.
You really didn’t see the sadness or the longing unless you already knew it was there. But that was the trick, wasn’t it? Everyone had their disappointment and their baggage; only, some people carried it in their inside pockets and not on their backs.
Oh, filmmakers, please don’t take my soft book and turn it into a horror, or take my horror and make it soft.
It’s a bomb. Just like you.
The trees called to me, urging me to abandon what I knew and vanish into the oncoming night. It was a desire that had been tugging me with disconcerting frequency these days.
He smiled tolerantly at her. Rubbing his smooth chin its recently assassinated chin hairs, he studied her. She barely came up to Ronan’s shoulder, but she was every bit as big as he, every bit as present.
She breathed. “This is lovely.” It was for Adam, not Gansey, but she saw Gansey glance over his shoulder at her.
The journal and Gansey were clearly long acquainted, and he wanted her to know. This is me. The real me.
He was uncomfortable with the idea that use might not like him.
At the door to the helicopter, Gansey looked bad over his shoulder at them, his smile complicated when he saw them holding hands.
Sean looks at me then, his eyes bright, in a way that makes me feel out of sorts. I glare back.
It was exactly what I wanted-beautiful distraction.