by Maria Vale
When Molly Molloy crawled under the tires and Death laid next to her and cupped her cheek, my heart stopped. I saw it coming, sort of. But not like that. And certainly not halfway through the book. So all of my assumptions about what the second half of the book would be were wrong, and in all the best ways.
Maria Vale has written a wonderfully surprising and unexpected love story. About a young woman who has known nothing but death her entire life, and the Angel of Death himself. Yes you read that right.
I’m not going to give away the how’s or what’s or why’s this particular love story comes to be — I want you to read the book damnit! Didn’t you hear me say it’s wonderful?!
What I will say is don’t give up on this book early. The first few chapters are filled some tremendous storytelling, but also some language and concepts and ideas that took me a while to get my brain around. But I did, and it was worth it. The monologue at end about Nothing and Being and the curious Bit and the bread crumbs and how it all came to be, you’ll want to stick around for that. You’ll be glad you did.
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