“I think love is instinct driven, with the heart ruling over mind. It can’t be defined. I’ll just know it when I feel it, because it will be so bone-jarringly beautiful.”
Forget the ideal.
And don’t even try to compare this to either Bright Side or Gus because this novel is an entirely different premise altogether.
So Much More has a storyline so intricately done that you can feel the raw human emotions crawling out from the pages of the story. The story is told from three different POVs; three different insights, three different thoughts, three different personalities. This is so much more than your typical love story, it’s a life story that tackled friendship, love, honesty, divorce and parenthood. What is constant in Kim’s books is that you just digest her words. No questions asked. She lays it out there and I take it. I have no other choice but to absorb. Given, I was anxious when the story started. It took me a few chapters before I can really follow. But when the story flowed, damn did it flow. True, I didn’t shed any Bright Side tears while reading this but the emotions I felt were just as strong.
“And my heart shatters for the second time today. It’s blown apart into so many pieces, the shrapnel spread so far and wide, I know what remains will never fit back together again. Puzzles don’t work when you only have half of the pieces. Same goes for hearts.”
Amidst the sea of alpha males, rock stars, billionaires and bad boys, Kim designed the perfect male lead in this story; a husband and a father. And one with Multiple Sclerosis. There were multiple parts of the book when I wish I can just reach out to Seamus and just console him, not romantically, but just to be his friend. The love and goodness radiating out of him, despite what life handed him was solid and unyielding. He is goodness. He is positivity. He is pure but at the same time, you can see all his broken parts poking out.
“Every day when I wake up, I remind myself that the present is possibility, and the past is a lesson.”
Now, only a really talented author can turn my hate towards a character into like and admiration. Only someone who writes with true grace can make me appreciate the supposed villain in the story. (And was it just me, but Miranda reminded me of Leah from Tarryn’s Love Me with Lies?) I wanted her to be redeemed. I was rooting for her change. I was anticipating her growth. And what Kim did with her character was truly inspiring and beautiful.
“I didn’t know people could hug your soul with their soul.”
Lastly, there’s Faith and I know that she’s supposed to be the lost, beautiful soul in the story but I somehow lacked that connection with her. Yes, she is a likeable character and I enjoyed reading about her and knowing her thoughts from her POV. Her heart is beautiful, her intentions are always pure and fair and honest. But somehow, I ended the book just liking her. I was drawn to her but without the emotional attachment I felt for Miranda. Hmmm. Guess what that says about me then.
“Authenticity is rare. Either people don’t know who they are, or they’re afraid to share themselves with the world”
I highly recommend this to everyone and anyone especially if you’re looking for a read that’s low on steam, high on love and with an overwhelming web of emotions. Fear not, I do not see any ugly cry scenarios in this book but I can assure you that you will FEEL. If you want to put your highlighter to use, this is for you. This could be a real life story with the struggles of regular people and families not only focusing on the normal and beautiful but more on the broken and redeemable.
FOUR “WE” STARS!!
Love is strange. It comes out of nowhere. There’s no logic to it. It’s not methodical. It’s not scientific. It’s pure emotion and passion. And emotion and passion can be dangerous because they fuel love…and hate.
I’m now a reluctant connoisseur of both—an expert through immersion. I know them intimately.
When I fell in love with Miranda, it was swift and blind. She was the person I’d elevated to mythical status in my head, in my dreams.
Here’s the thing about dreams, they’re smoke.
They’re spun as thoughts until they become something we think we want. Something we think we need.
That was Miranda. She was smoke.
I thought I wanted her. I thought I needed her.
Over time reality crept in and slowly dissected and disemboweled my dreams like a predator, leaving behind a rotting carcass.
Reality can be a fierce bitch.
So can Miranda.
And I can be a fool…
who believes in dreams.