The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight
Pub: 2012, Headline publishing group
Author: Jennifer E. Smith
Cat: contemporary fiction
Format: paperback (full); 215pp w/ 19 chapters
Age Range: YA
Who would have guessed that four minutes could change everything?
Today should be one of the worst days of Hadley’s life...
Her father is getting married in London to a woman she’s never even met, and she’s just missed her flight.
Hadley has never believed in destiny or fate before...
But, stick at the airport in New York, today is also the day she meets Oliver. He’s British. He’s cute. He’s cute. And he’s on her new flight.
Set over twenty-four hours, Handley and Oliver’s story will make you believe that true move finds you when you’re least expecting it.
ThoughtsOkay, so it’s late, like, I would have normally been asleep—nah, scratch that, but I defiantly wouldn’t be up writing out this review, not if, for some reason I couldn’t stop myself from doing it.
I also, since my mess-up (from a need to sleep and all) needs it’s time to bitch and I don’t seem to want to admit, that it’s even a possibility that I do this all the time, I want to spend a little minute of the font of this book. Yep, the font. Ridiculous as this is, but I find that I didn’t like it, it made me feel like I was reading this from email view in a way that was set out in a pastence that would make my mind make sense of this.
Really how shitty is that, that I would have such a big problem with a fonting of a book when it’s never seemed to matter before. but I do, this font, just....it’s not the way it should sit, it’s not the way the book flows, it makes it feel so much more....flat and unoriginal (even in its originality).
Okay, so enough on this shit, let’s....
The story was....well, the only way to really put it, make everything I said above seem ridicules, and to be honest even though I would say this about any other book, the title and the way everyone out there, with their opinions, and their thoughts. I don’t know but it’s kind of ridiculous, even more so my thinking all this shit (really, when have I ever cared?!) it’s a heartfelt book, one that gets itself buried in your chest and doesn’t let go. It’s so well written, the characters are so real, you could be one of them, hell, you have wished you were one of them at some point in your younger life when love seemed to be something that swept you up and spat you out only to pull you close and whisper ridiculous things to you that make you believe well before they can even be set out.
It’s a book of wonder, growth and understanding, though I did think the whole point with her and her dad went a little quickly, though it’s understandable and in retrospect it’s all about her outlook on Oliver’s life and present that makes it so, and it’s believable, don’t get me wrong.
Actually as I write this I find myself shaking my head, it’s not that at all, though those points are there, and it’s a hug part, that understanding in her with him with the situation that she’s sitting in, one that’s what would be like, what she would feel.
It’s actually Oliver’s perception on her, that I don’t get, or maybe because I was in her head, because it’s her you hear, her memories, her thoughts of present, of what’s to come, that I don’t see what he saw in her. Maybe I’m the only one, but I felt that he saw something in her that she just wasn’t, not really.
Look, it’s ridiculous for me to talk about this (and for me saying that frigin’ word, I have to get it out of my vocab for now) but I didn’t see it, I couldn’t see what he was going on about, and yet, looking back over the story, I sorta get what he’s going through, why he sees her that way. Maybe.
I did, however, love her talking to a British guy. Or really just the British in general, from her dad to Oliver. I liked that she went at him for saying the wrong words, like she couldn’t perceive the fact that she could be saying them wrong, not him. it was both a very teenage things as well as a (I’m sorry, but it’s kinda true) perception we, none Americans, see Americans.
I’m not taking a dig, or nothing, hell I don’t really want to know how you take us, Australians, to be honest—nah, take what you will.
I love that play, her correcting the words that she wasn’t use to with ones she was. her not understanding simple words that mean nothing to me, but then I’m a Aussie that was raised by the British (sorta my mum’s Irish) so all that crap had been around me for my whole life, but then I think generally, we Australians get our vocab more from that way, it’s telly and movies that push American idioisims on us.
Let’s get over this, hell, forget I went into it at all, really I’m tired and aren’t thinking strait, but I did really like that bit, I liked the book in general. Honestly didn’t think I would like it as much as I did, but I did. its sweet, simple and one of those tales that will stick to you almost like...hell, I don’t know, but I agree with the world (of people who have read this and have the same opinion) you will love the book, if it’s your type of thing, and is love, forgiveness and understanding doesn’t pull at you even a little than you probably won’t like most of the shit I read anyway, but it romantic driven tales call to you, this is a book you should pick up and read.
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