What a beautifully written book. V. E. Schwab writes some gorgeous prose and noteworthy lines, and that’s what I want to share first: “She lied, but only because she can’t say her real name–one of the vicious little details tucked like nettles in the grass.” “Addie has had three hundred years to practice her father’s art, to whittle herself down to a few essential truths, to learn the things she cannot do without.” “Addie feels like a museum sometimes, one only she can visit.” “Remy […]