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The good guys win. Don't act surprised--it's billed as a love story after all.

At first, I loved this book because it was so lovely and loving and in love. It was almost silly-cute and completely unrealistic. Like some kind of literary ballet, complete with twinkling and tremulos. But I was only half-way through the book--hell, it couldn't have gone on like that forever! I KNEW something bad was bound to happen. And then it did. Something bad. Something really really bad. Something...REALISTIC!

What the fuck???????????

YOU RUINED MY BALLET! How dare some Mr. Right Now come in off the street and ruin the perfect courtship? How dare sex replace love? How dare Agathe get scared and how dare she have doubts and how dare she make wrong decisions? How dare real life come in, stomping around and putting dirty footprints all over my clean white pages of this work of FICTION??? And this was fresh-laid marley, too. I'm mad at you, Truth! Look what you did to Agathe! And poor Tibo Krovic!!! Only Anna Karenina might know what it is to suffer like you've suffered, ol' Tibo.

*sigh*

I'm glad the bits of magic brought me back to a willing suspension of disbelief. And the bits that stroked my hair and snuggled me and reassured me and snuck a tutu or two out from the wings--those bits were good. I think my heart stopped beating once or twice out of pure sadness, but somebody came and massaged it back to life. I'm pretty sure it was deus ex machina.

I still haven't fully recovered.