Just finished reading The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight by Jennifer E. Smith. I knew I will love this book; a little bit less than Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher and Broken Soup by Jenny Valentine.
This book put me to a not so deep but not shallow thought in the same time. In the book the main character, Hadley, was given a Charles Dickens book by her father. He underlined sentences to send message to Hadley. More like inspiring notes to think of. I was jealous of her. My dad would never give me a Charles Dickens book to read; he would just give me self-assessment books. I hate that kind of book. It’s like forcing you to change your perception, to change your mind. Not inspired you to change or some other way. The book will act as if the author knows what you’ve been through, what you feel, what you want. I like a book when it will left me to think, to evaluate, to inspire me, to make me want to change. To wander.
