Occasionally Eloquent

Last night, my insomnia struck: something I have not dealt with for a long time. That being said, I was implausibly productive during the wee hours of the morning. The Perks of Being a Wallflower was finished, and here are my thoughts:

The book maintained my attention throughout, and despite being superfluous at times, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I wish I could sit here at my prehistoric computer for hours, details every little bit, nook, and cranny of the story to you, but that would be counterproductive. I think if I handed out a comprehensive plot of the story, readers would never read this book.

So rather I would like to entice you with all the bits, nooks, and crannies of impeccable craft:

Stephen Chbosky explored the depths of teenage thought, and all the variations of it. He painted a clear journey of the protagonist’s struggles and peaks, and made the mundane interesting. He interjected emotion in whenever possible, which enhances the piece if anything, rather than turning it sappy.

So in the wee hours of the night, I finished the book, enjoyed it, then promptly fell asleep. Though, not before starting Animal Farm, by George Orwell.