The Book of Broken Hearts read like a cheesy Lifetime movie, except sometimes those are more emotionally gripping. The story was supposed to have this big emotional swoopage, and it just didn't resonate with me. Like, at all. I never felt like Jude's struggle was real, I never bought the romance between her and Emilio (who I honestly found annoying as a romantic foil to Jude, but more likable as a character than Jude was), and by the 300th time of hearing Jude wax on and on about how she was never supposed to be with a Vargas boy, I wanted to take her journal of broken hearts and slap her upside the head with it.
Plus, in the end, that whole conflict comes to naught because oh yeah by now her sisters are adults and understand that just because he's related to some assholes doesn't mean he is one. So the entire novel was just piling on this "woe is me if I date this boy I like because my sisters will kill me" and it ends with her sisters being like, "Oh, he seems nice" and not really caring at all.
I tried to figure out if this would have been better without the gimmicks. I don't really know. I liked the depictions of scenery and nature, they were quite well-written and beautiful. But then every time Jude's partaking in nature she starts telling us narration like this:
"My heart bursting, my heart aching. Life. Death," and I just wanted to collect the drool of a hippo in a bucket and pour it over her emo head. It's not that you can't have a character talking about the concepts of life and death, but she's literally talking about them by saying "Life. Death," as her contemplative process. I mean, COME ON.
Anyway. I didn't feel strongly about any of the characters. Bonus to the slut-shaming of the neighborhood girl who's name I forget who only appears as a whore out to get Emilio. *eye roll* Anyway. I'm sure that the concept of this book was great, I just think its execution was sloppy and, sadly, boring. 2 out of 5 stars.
- Becca Rose
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