In tempora dolorem quidem cumque.

This book has a . . . mood or presence that simply permeates it in a way that I expect is powerful for those who connect strongly to it. The sense of isolation from your crowd, of wanting to belong even while knowing it is impossible and, worse, existing on a fringe where you are accepted and welcome but still just that wee bit off is extremely strong in this book and conveyed with an understanding and depth that is very evocative. I had a couple problems connecting to the book, though, and not any of them the obvious ones. Two problems, to be specific. First, and most significantly, Emily's experience is very close to my own but with an important and significant difference that made it difficult for me to relate. Moving around as much as I did in my childhood meant that I know something of existence on the fringe. So in that way, it was very like. But for whatever reason, I just didn't care that much about being on the fringe and was content with doing my own thing. So Emily's concerns are familiar, and yet completely alien at the same time. I think being that close and yet off kept me from connecting more than if I had been closer to the poles of popularity (and yes, I'm conscious of how deeply ironic that is given the book is about being so close and yet off). The second problem is Don. That guy was a complete poo and Emily's obsession with him diminished her. Further, I think Lovelace showed exactly how much it did so very clearly and that Emily couldn't see it was a little maddening. He didn't deserve the time of day from her and that she considered herself in love with him was simply silly. And it persisted for freaking ever. The book isn't helped by the distance in time or Jed's way, way too gentle "courtship" (though can it really be a ship if it doesn't actually ever move???) , either. Some of the customs and language are enough foreign, now, that it takes a conscious adjustment to meet it half-way. That may actually play in the book's favor, though,