Synopsis from Goodreads.
It’s the end of Year 12. Lucy’s looking for Shadow, the graffiti artist everyone talks about.
His work is all over the city, but he is nowhere.
Ed, the last guy she wants to see at the moment, says he knows where to find him. He takes Lucy on an all-night search to places where Shadow’s thoughts about heartbreak and escape echo around the city walls.
But the one thing Lucy can’t see is the one thing that’s right before her eyes.
“It’s the time wasting that gets you somewhere.”
Initial Final Page Thoughts.
I have five fingers pressed on my desk in reaction to this book right now. I can’t get much more love for this book.
Shadow. Lucy. Best friends. Poetry. Melbourne. A night that lasts forever. Mistaken identities. Missed connections. Graffiti. Eggs. Secrets. Arse-grabbers. Lyrical. Adventure. Insecurities. Mesmerizing. Art. Train carriages. Undercover good guys. Letting go of the breaks. Visibility. Twirls in the place. Cubicles of truth. In for the thrill. No guts, no glory. Moving to the extra beats. Zing.
I wishwishwish this book had pictures of Shadow and Poet’s work. Ms Crowley described it so perfectly (I could almost smell the paint drying) but I wanted to see and experience what Lucy did. Even my over active imagination couldn’t do those pictures justice.
Also, I always thought that New York was the city for late night adventures and mischief. Now I’m going to have to recalibrate my life plan.
Here I come, Melbourne.
Hope you’re ready.
Oh Lucy. I didn’t like you at first. There was something missing that stopped me falling head over heels in love with you.
It could be that I was completely jealous that you were living my dream in the most perfect, swoony, beautiful, gorgeous [insert gushing adjective here] way and I wanted to push you off a mountain so I could step into your place because I have long brown hair and I once went to a glass museum and I watch a man blow glass so I could blag it and I lovelovelove graffiti so I could blag that too and no one would know the difference and me and Ed would live happily ever after on love, art and delicious, delicious sausage rolls.
But… you know, it probably wasn’t that.
No. Not at all.
Even though I connected with t’other one lot more than Lucy, I still think she was a spectacular character. She is intelligent, she is funny, she is a tad oblivious, she is a great friend, she’s artistic, she has goals, she’s feisty and, most importantly, she has a good head on her shoulders and gets mad in the right places.
Which normally wouldn’t matter… but we’re talking about YA heroines here who get mad over the stupid things but don’t seem to get angry/stabby when they really should, like when a boy with mysterious powers and weird, unnatural coloured eyes worms his way into their life/business/undercrackers.
So it matters.
Oh I fell for Ed. Hook, line and sinker.
I won’t really go into how much I love you because kiddlywinks may read this review and I couldn’t trust myself to keep it PG it would be a very long review.
I loved your passion, your humour, your sadness, your determination, your soul, your eloquence, your vision, your relentless quest to find the perfect shade of blue and your insecurities.
I would never mow your heart grass.
That sounded more romantic and less weird in my head.
I would stick my knife in your toaster and let you electrocute me.
You know what I mean, Ed.
YES. I love it when an author realises the importance of a brilliant supporting cast. So often books have these insipid cookie cutter secondary characters that are just there.I loved how Jazz, Poet, Daisy and Dylan had their own fears, dreams, insecurities and they all blended together in a kaleidoscope of WONDER and hilarity.
I want to ride in a pink VW with them.
Thought I’d never see
The love you found in me
Now it’s changing all the time
Living in a rhythm where the minutes working overtime.
These guys get a lot of airplay over here on my marginally rainier shores which is fantastic because they are amazing. This song is perfect for this book and, looking at the video, I can tell these are the kind of gentlemen that I’d want to run around an Australian city with as the night is exploding with colours and tomfoolery. We’d get up to some potentially lethal crazy adventures that would probably end up with me being in jail and/or in a different country.
But it’s fine. I just wouldn’t take my passport out with me.
Strictly Savage Garden Story Song.
This song reminds me of my best friend because we used to listen to Savage Garden on YouTube while we drank cheap wine from Aldi before heading out for a night of dancing and debauchery. That’s just how we roll.
One time, we actually managed to sing the entire song, straight-faced and completely rat-arsed. That’s right. Even the fast bit.
Ooo, I want you
I don’t know if I need you
But, ooo, I’d die to find out
So can we find out?
Seriously Ed…. Can we?
Notice I’m leaving this bit out because I don’t want to give anything away, because this part of the book kept me on my tippytoes and made me scream ‘WHAAAAAT’ and ‘EEEEEEEH’ out loud on many occasions.
I loved it and there wasn’t an eye-roll in sight.
There was a bit of sadness within the story, some on Ed’s part, some on Lucy’s and some on Leo’s, but mostly it was on my part at the fact that I could never in a million years create something as beautiful and hopeful as Ms Crowley has with this book.
This book made my insides feel twirly and my soul swirl like the colourful bit in a glass marble.
Everyone. People who are one of the good guys, but just working undercover. People who are looking for the collision. People who compare all their crushes against Atticus Finch. People who like the zing. People who wouldn’t mind going to a party where the boys look like they’ve just walked off the set of Prison Break. People who, all things considered, wouldn’t mind getting their arse grabbed on the first date. People who don’t who don’t mind losing their inner Jane Austen once in a while. People who like to make grabs at stars. People who appreciate the importance of eyebrow action. Artists. Dreamers. Drop-outs. Poets. Lovers.
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