But she’s invited to the bachelorette with a couple other randos? Like Clare has no other friends? That email would have been deleted from my inbox so fast. A person whose wedding she’s not even invited to. A person she hasn’t talked to in a million years. To top it off, Nora, in all her pining away sadness, agrees to a strange invitation to attend her former best friend, Clare’s, “hen weekend”. “I have not spoken to him for ten years, but I thought of him every single day.” I just need a headcount and to tell you to get over it! Find a man (not a boy) that knows how to work a G-spot and make you dinner, and you’ll be over that high school flake in no time. I won’t judge, despite what this review might suggest. How many grown-ass women are out there decidedly becoming Bridget Jones-esque spinsters because their high school sweetheart peaced-out during a difficult time in their life? SHOW OF HANDS PLEASE. But how does someone never move on, like at all? Has she ever had sex with someone else? Gone on a date? It’s just so… weird to me.

Come on! Ok, sure, it was a messy breakup, he broke her heart into a million tiny teenage girl-shaped pieces and she never got closure. She’s 26 years old and still pining away for the boyfriend she had when she was 16. The main protagonist, Nora, is a fucking loser. This is an atmospherical oddball psychological mystery suspense novel that I liked, and at the same time, I fucking hated? Like I’m so torn.

Filed Under: The first time Reese Witherspoon lied to me

In a Dark, Dark Wood by Ruth Ware