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The Light We Lost: Reese's Book Club (A Novel) Paperback – February 6, 2018
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“This love story between Lucy & Gabe spans decades and continents as two star-crossed lovers try to return to each other…Will they ever meet again? This book kept me up at night, turning the pages to find out, and the ending did not disappoint.”—Reese Witherspoon
“One Day meets Me Before You meets your weekender bag.”—The Skimm
“Extraordinary.”—Emily Giffin
He was the first person to inspire her, to move her, to truly understand her. Was he meant to be the last?
Lucy is faced with a life-altering choice. But before she can make her decision, she must start her story—their story—at the very beginning.
Lucy and Gabe meet as seniors at Columbia University on a day that changes both of their lives forever. Together, they decide they want their lives to mean something, to matter. When they meet again a year later, it seems fated—perhaps they'll find life's meaning in each other. But then Gabe becomes a photojournalist assigned to the Middle East and Lucy pursues a career in New York. What follows is a thirteen-year journey of dreams, desires, jealousies, betrayals, and, ultimately, of love. Was it fate that brought them together? Is it choice that has kept them away? Their journey takes Lucy and Gabe continents apart, but never out of each other's hearts.
This devastatingly romantic debut novel about the enduring power of first love, with a shocking, unforgettable ending, is Love Story for a new generation.
“It's the epic love story of 2017.”—Redbook
- Print length368 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherG.P. Putnam's Sons
- Publication dateFebruary 6, 2018
- Dimensions5.13 x 0.96 x 7.95 inches
- ISBN-100735212767
- ISBN-13978-0735212763
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Get to know this book
What's it about?
A heart-wrenching tale of two star-crossed lovers, Lucy and Gabe, whose epic romance spans continents and decades, testing the enduring power of first love.Popular highlight
We see everything through the filter of our own desires and regrets, hopes and fears.2,941 Kindle readers highlighted thisPopular highlight
The way people interpret a situation often says more about them than it does about the situation.2,308 Kindle readers highlighted thisPopular highlight
Because we only reveal our true selves to the people we care about most.1,882 Kindle readers highlighted this
Editorial Reviews
Review
“It’s the epic love story of 2017 and the ending is one you’ll be feeling for months to come.”—Redbook
"An irresistible tale of love and second chances."—People
“Extraordinary.”—Emily Giffin
“This moving story is a perfect understanding of the sacrifices we make for love and for our dreams.”—Real Simple
“Your new tearjerker has arrived: Fans of Me Before You and One Day will love/weep over this elegant novel.”—New York Post
“This read is One Day meets Me Before You meets your weekender bag.”—The Skimm
“Have your tissues ready...This book will sink its hooks into your heart on page one, and leave you scarred long after you're done.”—Bustle
“Enchanted and compelled me.”—Delia Ephron, author of Siracusa
“A wonderful and heartbreaking book....The kind of heartbreak that’s in The Way We Were, that you really love to cry over.”—NBC New York's Weekend Today
“Heart-wrenching yet beautiful.”—US Weekly
“A beautiful and devastating story that will captivate readers.”—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“Comparisons will be made to David Nicholls’ One Day, but there is something more romantic here—yet also more grounded—that will draw readers in.”—Booklist
“Gorgeously written and absolutely unforgettable, Santopolo’s novel has a beating heart all its own.”—Caroline Leavitt, author of Pictures of You
“Santopolo vividly illuminates how our personal lives and loves are changed by the common—and uncommon—events of our troubled world.”—Nancy Thayer, author of The Island House
“The perfect beach read: an engrossing, romantic, and surprisingly sexy story about the power of first love.”—Domino
“Santopolo nailed the thrill and devastation that love can cause...This book made me feel everything!”—Renée Carlino, author of Before We Were Strangers
“Evocative, raw and at times breathlessly heartbreaking...Santopolo leaves us wondering about serendipity and the existence of that one, true love.”—Karma Brown, author of Come Away with Me
“A beautiful, moving meditation on the choices we make in pursuit of love and a meaningful life, and the consequences that shape our futures.”—Bethany Chase, author of The One That Got Away
“Filled with light and hope, this is the romance we're all looking for.”—Brenda Bowen, author of Enchanted August
“I predict a global tissue shortage.”—Sarah Morgan, author of Miracle on 5th Avenue
“A remarkable love story that enthralled me, surprised me, and ultimately, moved me.”—Thomas Christopher Greene, author of If I Forget You
“Gracefully and tragically charts the course not only of a genuine and deep love, but also that of our country and of our collective identities. It is memorable and haunting, because it is authentic and so close to home.”—Nick Schifrin, PBS NewsHour Special Correspondent, NPR Correspondent
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Sometimes objects seem like they’ve witnessed history. I used to imagine that the wooden table we sat around during Kramer’s Shakespeare seminar our senior year was as old as Columbia—that it had been in that room since 1754, edges worn smooth by centuries of students like us, which of course couldn’t be true. But that’s how I pictured it. Students sitting there through the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, both World Wars, Korea, Vietnam, the Persian Gulf.
It’s funny, if you asked me who else was with us that day, I don’t think I could tell you. I used to be able to see all their faces so clearly, but thirteen years later I remember only you and Professor Kramer. I can’t even recall the name of the TA who came running, late, into the classroom. Later, even, than you.
Kramer had just finished calling roll when you pushed open the door. You smiled at me, your dimple making a brief appearance as you slipped off your Diamondbacks cap and stuck it into your back pocket. Your eyes landed quickly on the empty seat next to mine, and then you did too.
“And you are?” Kramer asked, as you reached into your backpack for a notebook and a pen.
“Gabe,” you said. “Gabriel Samson.”
Kramer checked the paper in front of him. “Let’s aim for ‘on time’ for the rest of the semester, Mr. Samson,” he said. “Class starts at nine. In fact, let’s aim for ‘early.’ ”
You nodded, and Kramer started talking about themes in Julius Caesar.
“ ‘We at the height are ready to decline,’ ” he read. “ ‘There is a tide in the affairs of men / Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; / Omitted, all the voyage of their life / Is bound in shallows and in miseries. / On such a full sea are we now afloat, / And we must take the current when it serves, / Or lose our ventures.’ I trust you all did the reading. Who can tell me what Brutus is saying about fate and free will here?”
I’ll always remember that passage because I’ve wondered so many times since that day whether you and I were fated to meet in Kramer’s Shakespeare seminar. Whether it’s destiny or decision that has kept us connected all these years. Or a combination of both, taking the current when it serves.
After Kramer spoke, a few people flipped through the text in front of them. You ran your fingers through your curls, and they sprang back into place.
“Well,” you said, and the rest of the class joined me in looking at you.
But you didn’t get to finish.
The TA whose name I can’t remember came racing into the room. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “A plane hit one of the twin towers. It came on TV just as I was leaving for class.”
No one knew the significance of her words; not even she did.
“Was the pilot drunk?” Kramer asked.
“I don’t know,” the TA said, taking a seat at the table. “I waited, but the newscasters had no idea what was going on. They said it was some kind of prop plane.”
If it had happened now, all of our phones would’ve been blowing up with news. Pings from Twitter and Facebook and push notifications from the New York Times. But communication then wasn’t yet instant and Shakespeare wouldn’t be interrupted. We all shrugged it off and Kramer kept talking about Caesar. As I took notes, I watched the fingers of your right hand unconsciously rub against the wood grain of the table. I doodled an image of your thumb with its ragged nail and torn cuticle. I still have the notebook somewhere—in a box filled with Lit Hum and Contemporary Civilizations. I’m sure it’s there.
ii
I’ll never forget what we said when we left Philosophy Hall; even though the words were nothing special, the conversation is burned into my memory as part of that day. We’d started down the steps together. Not exactly together, but next to each other. The air was clear, the sky was blue—and everything had changed. We just didn’t know it yet.
People all around us were talking over one another:
“The twin towers collapsed!”
“School’s canceled!”
“I want to donate blood. Do you know where I can donate blood?”
I turned to you. “What’s going on?”
“I live in East Campus,” you said, pointing toward the dorm. “Let’s go find out. You’re Lucy, right? Where do you live?”
“Hogan,” I said. “And yeah, Lucy.”
“Nice to meet you, Lucy, I’m Gabriel.” You held out your hand. Amid everything, I shook it, and looked up at you as I did. Your dimple came back. Your eyes shone blue. I thought then, for the first time: He’s beautiful.
We went to your suite and watched TV with your roommates, with Adam and Scott and Justin. On the screen bodies dove out of buildings, blackened mounds of rubble sent smoke signals into the sky, and the towers fell in a loop. The devastation numbed us. We stared at the images, unable to reconcile the stories with our reality. The fact that this was happening in our city, seven miles from where we sat, that those were people—actual human beings—hadn’t set in yet. At least not for me. It felt so far away.
Our cell phones didn’t work. You used your dorm phone to call your mom in Arizona to tell her you were fine. I called my parents in Connecticut, who wanted me to come home. They knew someone whose daughter worked at the World Trade Center and no one had heard from her yet. Someone else whose cousin had a breakfast meeting at Windows on the World.
“It’s safer outside Manhattan,” my father said. “What if there’s anthrax? Or some other biological warfare. Nerve gas.”
I told my dad the subways weren’t running. Probably not the trains either.
“I’ll come get you,” he said. “I’ll jump in the car now.”
“I’ll be okay,” I told him. “I’m with some friends. We’re fine. I’ll call you again later.” It still didn’t feel real.
“You know,” Scott said, after I hung up. “If I were a terrorist organization, I’d drop a bomb on us.”
“What the fuck?” Adam said. He was waiting to hear from his uncle, who was part of the NYPD.
“I mean, if you think about it academically . . .” Scott said, but he didn’t get any further.
“Shut up,” Justin said. “Seriously, Scott. Not the time.”
“Maybe I should leave,” I said to you then. I didn’t really know you. I had just met your friends. “My roommates are probably wondering where I am.”
“Call them,” you said, handing the phone back to me. “And tell them you’re going to the roof of the Wien dorm. Tell them they can meet you there if you want.”
“I’m going where?”
“With me,” you said, and you ran your fingers absently along my braid. It was an intimate gesture, the kind of thing that happens after all barriers of personal space have been breached. Like eating off someone else’s plate without asking. And all of a sudden, I felt connected to you, like your hand on my hair meant something more than idle, nervous fingers.
I thought of that moment, years later, when I decided to donate my hair and the stylist handed me my braid, wrapped in plastic, looking even darker brown than usual. Even though you were a world away then, I felt like I was betraying you, like I was cutting our tie.
But then, that day, right after you touched my hair you realized what you’d done and let your hand drop into your lap. You smiled at me again, but it didn’t go to your eyes this time.
I shrugged. “Okay,” I said.
The world felt like it was cracking in pieces, like we’d gone through a shattered mirror into the fractured place inside, where nothing made sense, where our shields were down, our walls broken. In that place, there wasn’t any reason to say no.
iii
We took the elevator up to Wien 11, and then you pulled open a window at the end of the hallway. “Someone showed me this sophomore year,” you said. “It’s the most incredible view of New York City you’ll ever see.”
We climbed out the window, onto the roof, and I gasped. Smoke billowed up from the southern tip of Manhattan. The whole sky was turning gray, the city shrouded in ash.
“Oh my God,” I said. Tears filled my eyes. I pictured what used to be there. Saw the negative space where the towers had stood. It finally hit me. “There were people in those buildings.”
Your hand found mine and held it.
We stood there, staring at the aftermath of destruction, tears dripping down both our cheeks, for how long I don’t know. There must have been other people up there with us, but I can’t recall them. Just you. And the image of that smoke. It’s seared into my brain.
“What happens now?” I finally whispered. Seeing it made me understand the magnitude of the attack. “What’s next?”
You looked at me, and our eyes, still wet with tears, locked with the kind of magnetism that ignores the world around it. Your hand slid to my waist, and I rose up onto my toes to meet your lips halfway. We pressed our bodies together, as if that would protect us from whatever came after. As if the only way to stay safe was to keep my lips on yours. The moment your body enveloped mine, that’s how I felt—safe, enfolded in the strength and warmth of your arms. Your muscles fluttered against my hands and I buried my fingers in your hair. You wrapped my braid around your palm, tugging it and tipping my head back. And I forgot the world. In that moment, there was only you.
For years I felt guilty about it. Guilty that we kissed for the first time while the city burned, guilty that I was able to lose myself in you in that moment. But later I learned that we weren’t alone. People told me in whispers that they’d had sex that day. That they’d conceived a child. They’d gotten engaged. Said I love you for the first time. There’s something about death that makes people want to live. We wanted to live that day, and I don’t blame us for it. Not anymore.
When we broke for breath, I leaned my head against your chest. I listened to your heart and was comforted by its steady beating.
Did my heartbeat comfort you? Does it still?
iv
We went back to your dorm room because you promised me lunch. You wanted to go onto the roof with your camera after we ate, you told me, and take some pictures.
“For the Spectator?” I asked.
“The paper?” you said. “Nah. For me.”
In the kitchen I got distracted by a stack of your photos—black-and-white prints taken all over campus. They were beautiful, bizarre, bathed in light. Images zoomed so far in that an everyday object looked like modern art.
“Where’s this one?” I asked. After looking for a while, I realized it was a close-up of a bird’s nest, lined with what looked like newspapers and magazines and someone’s essay for a French literature class.
“Oh, that was incredible,” you told me. “Jessica Cho—Do you know her? She sings a cappella? David Blum’s girlfriend?—she told me about this nest that she could see out her window that someone’s homework got worked into. So I went to check it out. I had to hang out the window to get this shot. Jess made Dave hold my ankles because she was afraid I would fall. But I got it.”
After that story I saw you differently. You were daring, brave, committed to capturing art. Looking back, I’m guessing that’s what you wanted me to think. You were trying to impress me, but I didn’t realize it at the time. I just thought: Wow. I thought: He’s wonderful. But what was true then, and has been true as long as I’ve known you, is that you find beauty everywhere. You notice things other people don’t. It’s something I’ve always admired about you.
“Is this what you want to do?” I asked then indicating the pictures.
You shook your head. “It’s just for fun,” you said. “My mom’s an artist. You should see what she can do, these gorgeous enormous abstracts, but she makes a living by painting small canvases of Arizona sunsets for tourists. I don’t want that kind of life, creating what sells.”
I leaned against the counter and looked at the rest of the photographs. Rust leaching into a stone bench, cracked veins of marble, corrosion on a metal railing. Beauty where I’d never imagined it could be. “Is your dad an artist, too?” I asked.
Your face closed. I could see it, like a door shutting behind your eyes. “No,” you said. “He’s not.”
I had stumbled into a fault line I didn’t know was there. I filed that away—I was discovering the landscape of you. Already I was hoping it was terrain I’d learn well, one that would become second nature to navigate.
You were quiet. I was quiet. The TV was still blaring in the background, and I heard the newscasters talking about the Pentagon and the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania. The horror of the situation rushed over me again. I put your photographs down. It seemed perverse to focus on beauty then. But looking back, maybe that was exactly the right thing to do.
“Didn’t you say we were going to eat lunch?” I asked, even though I wasn’t hungry, even though the images flashing across the television screen made my stomach churn.
The door opened behind your eyes. “That I did,” you said, with a nod.
All you had the ingredients for were nachos. So, mechanically, I sliced tomatoes and opened a can of beans with a rusty can opener while you arranged tortilla chips in one of those throwaway foil trays and grated cheese into a chipped cereal bowl.
“What about you?” you asked, as if our conversation hadn’t gotten derailed.
“Hm?” I pressed the top of the can into the beans so I could lever it off.
“Are you an artist?”
I put the metal disc down on the counter. “Nope,” I said. “The most creative thing I do is write stories for my roommates.”
“About what?” you asked, your head cocked to one side.
I looked down so you wouldn’t see me blush. “This is embarrassing,” I said, “but they’re about a teacup pig named Hamilton who accidentally got accepted into a college meant for rabbits.”
You let out a surprised laugh. “Hamilton. A pig,” you said. “I get it. That’s funny.”
Product details
- Publisher : G.P. Putnam's Sons; Reprint edition (February 6, 2018)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 368 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0735212767
- ISBN-13 : 978-0735212763
- Item Weight : 2.31 pounds
- Dimensions : 5.13 x 0.96 x 7.95 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #5,415 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #307 in Contemporary Women Fiction
- #390 in American Literature (Books)
- #2,043 in Contemporary Romance (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
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About the author
Jill Santopolo is the internationally best-selling author of More Than Words, The Light We Lost, which was a Reese Witherspoon Book Club pick, and the forthcoming Everything After (available March 9, 2021). Her books have been translated into more than 35 languages, and have been named to the New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal, Apple, and Indie Bound bestseller lists. She is also the author of the Alec Flint Mysteries, the Sparkle Spa series, and the Follow Your Heart books. Jill has traveled all over the U.S.—and to Canada and Europe—to speak about writing and storytelling. She lives in New York City and Washington, DC.
Twitter: @jillsantopolo
Instragram: @jillsantopolo
Facebook: /jillsantopoloauthor
Book Trailer for The Light We Lost: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6kbRq6i0yI8
Jill's Interview with Emma Roberts and Karah Preiss about The Light We Lost (SPOILERS!): https://www.facebook.com/emmaroberts/videos/vb.288604704496305/1543385439018219/?type=2&theater
Customer reviews
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Learn more how customers reviews work on AmazonCustomers say
Customers find the book emotional and thought-provoking with a complete twist. They also describe the writing style as brilliant, humorous, and fast. However, some find the readability downright depressing with too much frou frous. Opinions are mixed on the content, difficulty, and characters. Some find the writing clean and straightforward, while others say it's tedious and laborious. Readers also have mixed feelings about the storyline, with some finding it captivating and predictable, while other find it predictable.
AI-generated from the text of customer reviews
Customers find the writing style brilliant, emotional, and original. They also describe the book as a quick read that is moving and sad. Customers also mention that the book is carefully constructed and reverently told.
"...Please add this magnificent and soulful book to your TBR list ASAP!..." Read more
"...The prose was beautiful but I did not always need to be reminded that Lucy was in conversation with Gabe...." Read more
"...Besides being beautifully written, it is also a lovely, though somewhat sad, love story." Read more
"...The writing falls at the top of the list. The way this book is so carefully constructed and reverently told had me hooked from the very first page...." Read more
Customers find the book emotional, relatable, and beautifully sad. They say it makes them feel infinite and invincible. Readers also say the story is captivating and the ending is just beautiful.
"...A must-read!"Love does that. It makes you feel infinite and invincible, like the whole world is open to you, anything is achievable,..." Read more
"...Very poignant. Gut wrenching really.But I gave it 4 stars because I had some of the same issues as other reviewers...." Read more
"...Besides being beautifully written, it is also a lovely, though somewhat sad, love story." Read more
"...The gift of this specific, beautifully tragic, and brilliant story telling from Santopolo was just that - a gift...." Read more
Customers find the book thought-provoking, interesting, and a good read for discussion at book clubs. They also say the author beautifully reveals the messiness of life and how one decision can truly define us forever. Customers also appreciate the captivating story with few cliches and sensitivity.
"...It provided lots of great discussions, so that was a win!..." Read more
"...There are tons of literary references, but don’t shy away from this book if you don’t know them. Just keep reading — it’s worth it!..." Read more
"...Great writer and master of the word!" Read more
"...its a beautiful and captivating story with few cliches and a sense of authenticity." Read more
Customers are mixed about the storyline. Some find it captivating, with a good premise and clean, straight writing. They also say the first person perspective is easy to read and they love the emotions running through them as they read. However, others say the ending is predictable and the story is not an epic love story.
"...Simply a breathtaking story that is one of my favorites. A must-read!"Love does that...." Read more
"...That would make her a somewhat incomplete character.This story is haunting and a reminder that our emotions and our sacrifices have..." Read more
"...I thought they were selfish and sometimes manipulative. It was not an epic love story, IMO...." Read more
"...The gift of this specific, beautifully tragic, and brilliant story telling from Santopolo was just that - a gift...." Read more
Customers have mixed opinions about the characters in the book. Some find them believable and interesting, while others find them unbelievable and annoying.
"...kind of book you can read over and over again because the characters are simply so real...." Read more
"...The protagonist was not likable. The characters could end have been fleshed out more." Read more
"...Lucy was such a relatable character...." Read more
"...The book was well written enough, but Lucy is one of the most vile characters I have come across in a long while...." Read more
Customers are mixed about the difficulty of the book. Some mention that the writing is very clean and straightforward, making it easy to fall in love with the characters. However, others say that it's tedious, confusing, and leaves too many questions unanswered.
"...This book is sad. Devastating really. Infinitely overwhelming in how it builds you up and breaks you down simultaneously...." Read more
"...It's called closure, Lucy!The three stars is for the concise, clean writing, and the fact that I did have a visceral reaction to the plot,..." Read more
"The narration to “you” was intriguing but it became annoying. I thought the initial love scenes were gratuitous and overly graphic...." Read more
"...It seems abrupt and unresolved. It is the one thing that pierces the love triangle's structure...." Read more
Customers have mixed opinions about the content. Some find the book has a lot of foreshadowing, honest, and raw. They also appreciate the references to 9/11. However, others find the main character irresponsible, redundant, and self-indulgent. They say the book doesn't share any profound moral inspiration and is hypocritical.
"...giving anything away, the ending is unbelievable and it's implications are irresponsible...." Read more
"...got to about 75%, I found myself skimming through parts because it was so redundant. Does a woman really pine for a man that long?..." Read more
"...and another interesting point—rather rare, in my opinion—it has a lot of foreshadowing." Read more
"...It was an enjoyable read, however, the second half of the book was redundant. I found myself just wanting to know how it ended already...." Read more
Customers find the book downright depressing, corny, and heart wrenching. They also say it's mind-numbingly vapid, serious, and not light reading for entertainment. Readers also mention that the characters are hardly likable and borderline annoying. They say the book has too much frou frous and not enough literary meat.
"...This book is sad. Devastating really. Infinitely overwhelming in how it builds you up and breaks you down simultaneously...." Read more
"...of Gabe and Lucy's relationship was one of toxicity and emotional neediness...." Read more
"...daughter has some books with the Amazon links included; fast and easy way to shop." Read more
"I can't believe I almost gave up on this story. I thought it was a bit boring and didn't like the concept in the beginning...." Read more
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All the stars to Jill Santopolo for this gorgeous book!!
“I tried to forget that day, but it was impossible. I couldn’t forget what happened to New York, to America, to the people in the towers. And I couldn’t forget what happened between us. Even now, whenever anyone asks, “Were you in New York when the towers fell?” or “Where were you that day?” or “What was it like here?” the first thing I think of is you.”
This book touched me in ways I can’t even begin to explain! The passion, the love, the choices and the heartbreak left me utterly exhausted. Lucy and Gabe came alive for me at the skilled hands of the brilliant author. Please add this magnificent and soulful book to your TBR list ASAP!
The story of two people and their intertwined lives, 'The Light We Lost' captivated me from beginning to end. This is the kind of book you can read over and over again because the characters are simply so real. This story spans years and examines how the choices we make can change the course of our lives forever. Lucy and Gabe - first love and true love, even though time and circumstances keep them apart.
"The moment your body enveloped mine, that’s how I felt—safe, enfolded in the strength and warmth of your arms. Your muscles fluttered against my hands and I buried my fingers in your hair. You wrapped my braid around your palm, tugging it and tipping my head back. And I forgot the world. In that moment, there was only you."
Lucy and Gabe seem meant for each other, kindred spirits who seem as though they will be together forever. But Gabe is an ambitious photographer who wants to change the world. He feels compelled to follow his dreams beyond New York City, where he and Lucy share a home. And Lucy has her own life and career and refuses to give them up to chase Gabe across the world.
"Was I infatuated with you? Were we infatuated with each other? Can infatuation last this long? Or has it always been love between us? I’d like to think it has.
This story has many twists and turns and once I started, I could not put it down! Even after Lucy and Gabe part ways, and even though she is left utterly heartbroken, she still is there for him through the years, whenever he needs her.
"I saw the sorrow in your eyes, the loneliness. And I wanted to make it better, to be your salve, your bandage, your antidote. I’ve always wanted to fix things for you. I still do. It’s my Achilles’ heel. Or perhaps my pomegranate seed. Like Persephone, it’s what keeps drawing me back."
Lucy tries to be a friend to Gabe even though he broke her heart. It seems as though she is willing to risk everything for him - her career, her personal life and her friends - all for Gabe. But they truly have a once-in-a-lifetime love that seems to have no boundaries. I want to keep this review purposefully vague so that no spoilers are revealed. Yes this book is a heart-breaker but it is so rich and moving that I cannot recommend it highly enough. Regret, first love, choices, career, family - this book touches all the bases. Simply a breathtaking story that is one of my favorites. A must-read!
"Love does that. It makes you feel infinite and invincible, like the whole world is open to you, anything is achievable, and each day will be filled with wonder."
But I gave it 4 stars because I had some of the same issues as other reviewers. The prose was beautiful but I did not always need to be reminded that Lucy was in conversation with Gabe. It might have flowed more easily without all the "do you remember"s. I also struggled with the dichotomy between "God Help Me Moms" and "Expert Moms." As a professional with 2 children, I did not have the luxury of fitting so neatly into either category. Neither did many of my friends. I guess we were more Realist Moms. But it felt like the struggle between the two was real throughout the book. It was clear Lucy's love was genuine, but her passion for Gabe just seemed to make all else "God Help Me" moments. And that same struggle ruled in her marriage and that made me feel for her husband and her children. She never gave any of her relationships a true shot. That would make her a somewhat incomplete character.
This story is haunting and a reminder that our emotions and our sacrifices have consequences.
Examples of what I mean by that: I did not love the protagonist, I did not agree with hardly any of her or the hero's actions, and my heart broke a little by the end. This book is sad. Devastating really. Infinitely overwhelming in how it builds you up and breaks you down simultaneously. I found no hope, no "light" if you will in what I read and for me that's usually a major sign for loving something. So I'm pretty certain, although my thoughts are fairly jumbled about it, that I did not love this book. But I do think it's amazing.
And yes, I realize my logic is probably not the same as yours and I'm ok with that. I think this book allows for that. I think Jill Santopolo wants you to feel conflicted about this book. She most certainly can't deny she knows there's going to be a lot big thoughts and opinions once readers reach the end.
So why did I find The Light We Lost amazing? The writing falls at the top of the list. The way this book is so carefully constructed and reverently told had me hooked from the very first page. This woman is reliving her history and as readers we don't why. I had a good guess but I truly didn't know until Santopolo wanted me to know. Her construction of the plot and the memories she builds through her protagonist inspire longing, fortitude, and so much questioning of what it means to be happy and how we achieve that happiness as individuals.
The scope of the book really focuses on that idea of being content with oneself no matter how that comes across to the rest of the world. How can we find joy in everything that we do? Is too happy the same as too content? And how do we know? Where is the place we find the most fulfillment of our soul? The protagonist is always questioning and it made me question as well.
So I'm mad at this book, I think. It broke a piece of my heart. I'll never read it again. But I appreciate it regardless. The parts of romance are so whimsical and fitting. Betrayal strikes the right chords. Lust, obsession, all-encompassing love, and contentment all fight their way for the top. The gift of this specific, beautifully tragic, and brilliant story telling from Santopolo was just that - a gift. And for the excellent writing, how engaged I was, and the multitude of thoughts and emotions garnered from reading The Light We Lost make it worth all the stars from me.
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Ps: tissues needed!