I think the time has come to accept that Felice Stevens might not be the author for me.

There is a lot of love out there for this book, but me? I really wasn't feeling it. I liked Nick, though. A survivor of 9/11, he struggles with this tremendous amount of guilt, he has a hard time even seeing the light at the end of the tunnel most days. Since I don't have a lot of experience with this kind of thing, I can't really comment on how realistic this is portrayed here. All I can say is that parts of his pain felt pretty real to me.

Additionally, I was 11 years old when the Twin Towers fell, and living in a different country. So even though I can tell you exactly where I was and what was happening around me on September 9th 2011, this traumatic experience means something completely different to me than to every American. My emotional connection therefore might differ significantly from the one other readers might experience while reading this book.

And then there was Julian. I liked him a lot, actually. He was sweet, warm and patient. I just wish he would have stood up for himself a little more. Because, what really drove me nuts, was the whole plot surrounding his "lack of perspective". Don't get me wrong, I loved the new project he worked on after he was betrayed and shunned in the fashion world. BUT. I was absolutely not happy with how people reacted and judged his carreer in fashion. You can think what you want about overpriced jackets, scarfs and color-coded accessories. I for one, have practically no interest in it. Most of the new fashion trends go straight over my head. I also don't have a lot of patience for bling-bling, clothes that "reflect my personality best", or the self-indulgent or the two-faced fashion scene in general. On the other hand, I think it pretentious and wrong to judge someone who makes his dreams come true by being successful in this business. Does a firefighter safe more lifes? Yes. Does the work of a police officer or a heart surgent seem "more important" when it comes to life and death situations? Absolutely. Does that give you the right to judge and ridicule other people, and accuse them of being shallow and dumb over the carrer they choose? Fuck, no!

That's what spoiled the book quite a bit for me. Nobody has the right to put someone else down for his carreer choices. And liking nice things, clothes and trends does not make you a shallow, or stupid, or bad person. And yet, that's how it's portrayed here. Sure, there are more important problems in the world than a fashion show gone bad. Still doesn't make it right to shame other people for their job as a designer. But everybody and his dof felt perfectly in the right to give Julian crap over his carreer. So. Not. Cool.

The writing in and on itself is not my favorite. Some of the dialogue read more like a stringing together of speeches. Some of the conflicts and/or their solutions felt too artifical to me. But it was really the shaming of Julian that did it for me. Maybe I get offended too easily, but that's how it is.

All in all, not a bad book, but not one I will re-read any time soon. 3 stars rounded up because I really liked the MCs.

This book is an alternative retelling of Daddy Long Legs, with an absolutely absurd Mary Sue heroine who can be described at best as "hopelessly, unbelievably innocent," and at worst "infuriatingly, incomprehensibly stupid."

Whose head is invariably stuck in one of the following three places:

- Up her ass
- In the clouds
- In a 19th century romance novel

It is one thing to love the classics, it is another to live your life around it. It is still another when you are a pretentious little twat quoting passages from your favorite authors---a fair share of them fairly obscure---at any given moment in time, and at the most inappropriate moments.

And to turn down a marriage proposal by QUOTING ELIZABETH BENNET?

“ ‘You’re the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.’ ” I finished with a direct quote, just to drive the nail deep.

You, Samantha Moore, are a jerk.

Let me mention that I believe that the author did not mean for her main character to come off this way. I am 99.8% sure that Ms. Reay intended for her protagonist to come off as charmingly naive, happily innocent, blessedly virginal, a sweetly flawed character that we will all love. It didn't work.This book and the main character would have worked considerably better in a 19th-early 20th century setting, when we give our heroines more flexibility to be innocent, sheltered, and forgive them for their acts of stupidity, since really, women back then truly didn't know any better, thanks to their social status, lack of opportunities, and general lack of education. This ain't the 19th century, and Sam is just plain dumb. The fact that she gets into graduate school proves nothing but the fact that she has more book smart than common sense (well, not too much more, considering she almost flunked out of school eventually).

In a contemporary 21st century setting, Samantha Moore does not work quite so well. To put it frankly, she gets on my nerves with her overwhelming, incredible naiveté and lack of common sense, which is completely out of place with her role as a former foster child who was forced to live on the streets.

Summary: Samantha (Sam) Moore is a product of the foster care system and the product of a broken household. Unlike children who have come out of these difficult circumstances with more determination, more resolve, more backbone, Sam comes through it with about as much toughness and street smarts as a newborn kitten swathed in organically grown cotton (can we get a collective "awww!" for my completely-unnecessary-yet-adorable metaphor?).

If we are to believe it, Samantha has survived several tough foster families, she's been forced to practically raise her idiot of a mother, she's been abused by a mentally ill dad. Such things should toughen one up, right? But get this...when Sam graduates from the foster system and her lovely foster home, she has a mental breakdown and is filled with despair. DESPAIR. Because her new apartment is such a fucking hovel. Are you fucking kidding me? Sam is complaining about a crappy apartment when she supposedly lived for 2 months on the streets when she was 15? Way to be inconsistent.

Yeah, it's a crappy apartment, the size of a shoebox. Sam has to eat ramen for months. Um, welcome to the wonderful world of college and limited money. A lot of us have been there ourselves. The college years are well known for having absolutely no money and being forced to eat ramen and boxed Mac N' Cheese (the generic, not the blue box) for months, years on end. It's nothing new. Yet the overdramatic Sam has to blow up the situation to be larger than it is.

I figured this was how Nicholas Nickleby felt when he was forced to work at Squeer’s squalid Yorkshire School. That was a dark, horrific place, where Mr. Squeer beat life and hope from his students. And those few months beat the life from me too. Hope had died long before.

Did I say overdramatic? Yep. Samantha is enrolled in Northwestern University's Medill School for Journalism, but she doesn't belong there. She could actually be a professor herself, teaching a class on Making Mountains out of Molehills 401. Yes, 401, nor 101. Because Samantha's skills in being histrionic is at a graduate level, yo.

So Samantha receives a grant from the most wonderful, most generous person in the world. Her graduate school tuition will be paid for, when she eventually makes up her mind to attend the Medill School majoring in Graduate Journalism. And the key word is "eventually," because the damn girl changes her mind more frequently than Lady Gaga changes her outfits. That's to say, when she's NOT flunking out of school. Oh, RIGHT. Journalism. Sam's supposed to be actually taking classes there or something? Being focused on her studies? Whatever.

The only condition of the generous grant (and it eventually comes with cool shopping sprees, free computers, a plush house, flowers, you name it) is that Sam writes occasional letters to a mysterious benefactor, Mr. George Knightley. And man, does she write to him.

The Plot: Let's put aside the preposterousness of the Daddy-Long-Legs premise, and focus on what else that makes this story so utterly incredible, so completely foolish. I will not spoil the major events in the book, but a great deal of the plot is completely contrived. It fills me with incredulity. Reading fiction is one thing, but I need to believe that what transpires in the book is possible. This book and the events within are so completely outlandish that it beggars any amount of enjoyment due to the complete lack of credibility within. It feels very much like fiction, like a sheltered person's rendition of "tough street life." For example, our sheltered Samantha has to have the worst luck ever, because she gets beaten up by thugs and held up at gunpoint within a short amount of time. Sam befriends a tough black kid who speaks in roughened ebonics by challenging him to a run! And she succeeds in winning the tough foster kid over with her pretense at having street cred! Please.

It struck me that racing him might earn me some respect.
“And stop discriminating. You think because you’re a boy or because you’re black that you can beat me? You can’t.” I poked my finger into his chest.

CAN WE GET SOMEONE TO PLAY "GANGSTA'S PARADISE," PLEASE? It seems fitting, for the moment.

The Letters: Are frankly, unbelievable. I don't have trouble believing that you can confide in someone you've never met. I have internet friends myself, and they listen better than a lot of the people I know in real life. The problem with this book is that Sam's confidences in her letters are too much, too soon. It takes trust to confide so much in someone. Trust needs to be reciprocated. Communication needs to be two-way. "Mr. Knightley" rarely, rarely ever responds. When he does, it is in the form of a short, succinct letter that does not invite such revelations of secrets, such exposure of the soul. Yet Sam trusts him from the very beginning. She tells him all her secrets, in pages, and pages, and pages, RIGHT FROM THE START.

It is a long book, and 97% of it is composed of letters from Sam to Mr. Knightley. That is a lot of words, it is a lot of secrets, it is a lot of personal details to share with someone she does not know. Sam rarely holds back on her private life, letting Mr. Knightley know about her kisses, about her first date, about her lack of sexual experience. It is too much, I cannot believe she would be so up front about everything, considering her reticence to other people in her life, considering how little she knows of him, considering that Mr. Knightley almost never responds.

The Main Characters: Given the fact that this book is completely centered around Sam's experiences, and is narrated by Sam through her letters, I have to say that Sam completely destroys any enjoyment I could have had from the book. She grates on my nerves. Sam is a Mary Sue of the first class order. Sam is tall, 5'10. Stunning, but she doesn't know it. She is a "long drink of water," but of course, she doesn't believe it. She looks like Anne Hathaway, but she can't see it. A famous author falls for her, out of nowhere.

Sam has this terrifically annoying tendency to compare herself to literary heroines. Sam supposedly lives in books, which I can understand. What I cannot understand is her compulsion to compare herself to every downtrodden character in classic romance novels. Fanny Price. Anne Elliot. Charlotte Lucas. I hate that. I hate it when characters compare themselves to book characters.

Did Elizabeth Bennet say "I feel so much like Juliet?" Fucking no. Elizabeth Bennet would never stoop so low. Oh, right. Samantha compares herself to Elizabeth Bennet too. Please, girl, you could never compare.

Sam also has this annoying tendency to incessantly quote passages from novels at the most inconvenient moments. Actually, all her tendencies are rather stupid, but this one is particularly aggravating.

Her professor is about to flunk her? Let's spout a line from Darcy to stave him off!

“I see no passion in your writing. Only technique. It’s good, but it’s empty.”
“‘I certainly have not the talent which some people possess...,’ but I am working hard.”

Her love life is in jeopardy! Surely a quote from Pride and Prejudice will help!

“‘I beg your pardon. Excuse my interference. It was kindly meant.’” I cringed.
“Caroline Bingley? Really?” Alex paused.

The author seems to think the more quotes she includes from literary works, the more likable Samantha will become. It actually works the opposite.

For someone supposedly so lacking in confidence, Sam is completely full of hot air and filled with pretentiousness. She is a passive-aggressive friend, she looks down upon others, her friends as "Lydias" meaning all looks and no brains, or "Emmas" meaning so wealthy, street-smart, and full of confidence---but that's a bad thing, compared to the innocent, smart-but-sheltered, virtuously poor, holier-than-thou perfect fucking Sam.
Sam makes fun of a friend's marriage proposal when she confides in her because it doesn't live up to her ideas of romance.

“That’s it?” I sat back. “You’re worse than Austen. You might as well say that his sentiments had ‘undergone so material a change’ or that ‘his affections and wishes’ were unchanged. Anything is better than nothing! She never tells you what’s actually said either.”
Hannah flushed red. “Don’t...compare my proposal from my real fiancé to one of your books. This is my life and I’m inviting you into it. Don’t belittle it by quoting fiction.”
“‘I wish you all imaginable happiness,’ Hannah.” I was mad, and I threw that out just to spite her.
“Forget it, Sam. I don’t know who you’re quoting, but I can tell you are. I thought you’d enjoy my story and I wanted to share it with you, but you aren’t even here. I don’t know why I bother.

What. A. Bitch.
Sam is self-centered. Wishy-washy. She can't make a decision to save her life.

She is clueless about everything---at 23.

She cuts herself with lobster pliers at a restaurant---at 23.

She doesn't know how to shave her legs---at 23.

She doesn't know how to pluck her eyebrows---at 23.

She's hardly been kissed---at 23.

She thinks a rhinoplasty is a type of rhinoceros---at 23.

And by the end, she doesn't really grow up. AM I SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE THAT THIS GIRL IS GOING TO BE A COMPETENT JOURNALIST IN AN ALMOST IVY-LEAGUE LEVEL GRADUATE SCHOOL PROGRAM?

The answer is: "Fuck, no."

God help us all. When she graduates, I'm 100% confident that Samantha Moore is going to be a writer at Fox News.

HOLIER THAN THOU. I don’t think I could handle being a Holly Yarkov, looking at things the way she did, seeing what needs be doing and what could be done. All the things she asked of herself and of others, BIG. Was I ever her though, and have the day in and day out of my life pushed all questions like hers aside? The way things were going it felt like she was almost here with me, where it’s just the day in- day out, minus the questions. Almost. But not quite as a lot of this is a real look at the life of a person in that stage of life where things are brand new, when things there are *exciting*. Except it’s also bout how that shine’s begun to dull with each real world encounter and with each moment of her expectations not quite happening. One thing that tugged at me: the closeness she’s got with her people. How she’d had all these notions of what they’d be and how they’d be later in the when. And that? That’s so me. But then, there’s real life and it’s not quite what you expect so couple her notions of Friends and Seinfeld, with early memories of heartbreak, feeling like she’s no place where she should as well as the little (then the big) let downs from people unexpected… well, was it empathy overdose, what she said? And Holly, she makes sense, in this real authentic way… of the not too perfect, but wants it to be perfect nonetheless kind of way. Hell, every single one in this is perfectly real in how imperfect they were. Where some are more imperfect than others, of course.

Re-read from July 1 to July 2 2013. Loved it as much as a month earlier. A pretty perfect book in my eyes. Honest, real, raw, tender, funny, sad, well-articulated and open-ended on a hopeful note. I want to quote it to pieces and I want a physical copy to keep. Affordable, international edition, where art thou?

Holier Than Thou explores our early twenties: a unique time in our lives where we're just out of high school and tertiary education, working the first job, living out of home, perhaps for the first time,  maybe exploring our first 'serious' relationships. It's about Holly, who has ticked all those boxes, but is rapidly finding out the idealism we learn in high school and uni just doesn't apply in the real world.What happens when you have everything you have ever wanted, but still find yourself unhappy, wanting something new, something extra? Holly has created an identity for herself as the girl who always does right - she's taken the high moral ground and is prone to judging others for not doing the same - her work-mate Nick gives her the apt nickname Holier Than Thou. She could have easily come across as selfish, perhaps even aloof, but she, and the rest of the cast, are astonishingly realistic and relatable. Of her friends, I really liked Nick, and possibly could have loved Liam if it wasn't for the way he left. I didn't like Tim, I thought it was clear he was taking Holly for granted, and with the exception of Dan, the rest of Holly's friends weren't as supportive as I would have wanted to be. But this is the point of the book - a realisation that close friends will not always remain so.The blurb made it sound as though Holly hadn't been plagued by the death of her father and absence of a close friend for a while, but from the very first page it's clear that she has been dealing with these issues non-stop for years. She's obviously never gotten over Liam, the best friend who left for mysterious reasons, and understandably has a complicated emotional history when it comes to the death of her father. Her past is filled out for us slowly, flashbacks interleaved cleverly with the present action of the life she envisioned for herself gradually falling apart. Holly's close friends expand their social circles, her thankless job as a social worker is sucking the joy out of her and she works long, hard hours without pay and under constant threat of being fired, her relationship with Tim is changing now that they live together and both work full-time, and Nick keeps entering her thoughts in inappropriate ways.I have to note that I do not like the ending. Holier Than Thou ends abruptly, without really concluding the story arc and leaving me perplexed. I understand the author is probably tying to make a statement about the uncertainty of life, and how Holly has many years ahead of her to figure everything out, but it's very unsatisfying as a reader.Holier than Thou will make you laugh, and will possibly have you reaching for tissues! It's a perfect story about the expectations we have of living as adults in the 'real world', with an Australian tang, and will resonate with readers who, like me, are at this special place in their lives.You can read more of my reviews at Speculating on SpecFic.