It’s been a long while since I’ve read a regular book of fiction. Lately it’s been a slew of nonfiction books, but before that it was mostly fantasy, sci-fi, or something with an element other than reality in it. In contrast, Rosie is so — normal almost, about the details and nitty gritty of a family’s life. It seems like it should be boring, but it’s not. It’s wonderfully well-written, thoughtful and gritty and real. I think fiction works best when it reflects to you some aspect of your life, so you see yourself in the character’s shoes and understand what they’re feeling, and at the same time understanding yourself a little bit more, and your own life situation.

The part I related to the most was Rosie’s mom Elizabeth falling in love. I remember the feeling — giddy excitement, an almost constant state of euphoria, and near-obsessive thoughts of your loved one. And I related to the crash that inevitably comes with love — the feeling of pain and betrayal, the shards of glass that pierce your heart when something goes wrong between you and your love. I say inevitably because it *will* happen, it’s the recovery from it that is the difficult part, and whether you and your love will do the recovering together.

I had been looking forward to the day I find someon and fall in love, but now I remember too well the crushing sorrow of heartbreak. And so I’m a little bit scared, and I wonder if I get my heart broken, would I still be able to recover?

Well, the book had a happy ending. I hope my story ends the same way.