I completely forgot that I hadn't changed my current book. Silly me.
I have read Nineteen minutes by Jodi Picoult since the last time I visited. I've read some of Picoult before (My sister's keeper) and this novel uses the same style. If I hadn't seen a name on this cover I could've guessed it was the same author.
Nineteen minutes tells the story of what happens after a shooting at a highschool. A young student finds himself lost for answers and turns to violence. We follow him, his victims and their families in a search for the truth and more specifically the reason behind it all.
Sometimes you read a novel and it completely sucks you in. You get connected with the world depicted and feel what the characters feel. Everyone who reads regularly knows what I'm talking about.
Nineteen minutes never did this. I never forgot it was fiction, it never grabbed me by the throat despite the subject and despite the very emotional person I've become since my lovely daughter is in my life.
It's a prose I've never been happy with, trying to keep a steady pace, switching back and forth between different characters but never really touching them. The characters felt too twodimensional, lacking a reality. Oddly so did the storyline. You never really get an answer of why he did it. I never got the feeling he was evil or misunderstood. A young student being harassed and bullied, but in some of the thing he did you felt the strong resilience he had. Why did he do it then? And the final climax was anything but believable.
And then I'm not even mentioning the absolutely annoying hollywoodian ending. All's well, ends well?!
It gave me reason to chuck the book to the floor, turn of the light and hoping my next book was going to be better.
If there are any Picoult fans out there. I'm not apologising for my opinion. Not everyone likes what she writes, like there are some people who don't like bananas for some reason.
