Well that’s fine, I didn’t need my heart whole anyway.

I knew it would hurt, I was ready, but I cried like a baby anyway. I have a thing for emotionally heavy books like this. The dichotomy of emotions that come from love, fear, grief, and guilt being so intricately woven into one novel always make me feel like it’s real life, because real life is rarely ever just happy endings. Life is unpredictable, and it hurts. The Simple Wild captured that perfectly. It reminded me a lot of “Beauty and the Mustache” by Penny Reid, in all the best ways.

There will always be a soft spot in my heart for all books the feature Alaska. It’s a gorgeous and remarkable place, one I don’t think I could ever live in but mesmerizes me all the same.