The first “book” is wonderfully evocative of the warmth of the sun, and the scents and dusty roads of Athens. Of brief encounters and falling in love and friendships developed too fast and too close and a time of potential. Then a devastating intermission. The next two books, for me, was a struggle between me as reader, and the thoughts and feelings the writer was trying to impose on me. This is the problem I have every time a writer moves into second person. I always feel like its a cheat and I always rebel against it. When van Booy says I feel some way or I’m doing something, especially when I think the character is behaving in a way that I can not relate to. Had it been in third person, it wouldn’t have been a problem, since it wouldn’t be me.
I fought with the book until the end. I’m not sure it was worth it.