Book #30: Scrambled Eggs at Midnight

I have excuses, many of which are valid, for getting so behind in my reading. This does not benefit you, however, and for that I apologize.

Scrambled Eggs at Midnight far exceeded my expectations. At first I was put off by the fact that the main characters were only fifteen, but this quickly changed. The book isn't overly heavy, yet it carries such weight. The themes explored really struck home with me, as clichéd as that may sound. What's more, the way the themes were handled impressed me; had they been written any differently I could definitely see myself disliking the book.

Ultimately, it easily could have ended badly. But it didn't. And sometimes you need that, I think. Sometimes you need a hopeful ending. I know I did. I cannot express how much I enjoyed this book, despite my vagaries here.

But what do I know? I like saying that, because I can pretend not to know everything I know. (19)

You say things that the truth can fit around, and it feels OK. Except, really, it doesn't. Every time I do it, I feel like I'm inside something and only I know what it is, and I'm alone in there, like I've built this big empty room around myself and there's no door. (21)

"Phi's okay," Abel says, taking the tongs and offering me a clean paper towel in exchange. I squint at him and he smiles. "I mean, if you like self-centered, overly muscled alpha males." (127)

"What if they think I'm a heathen?"

I tighten my arms around her. "Are you?" (261)