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*** 3.5 stars ***

It's been a while since I've sat down in my atrociously pink swivel chair and attempted to write a, what's it called again? Review. Right.

I took a hiatus I guess. From reading. Not by choice. It was a forced hiatus.
But now I'm back.
This book has re-introduced me to the wonder that is escapism through reading.

It's hard to say what it is that drew me in about this book.
To be completely honest, I wasn't that impressed until I reached part three of the book. The first two parts were written, for lack of better words, lazily. It seemed as if the author was trying extremely hard to look as if he wasn't trying at all. If it hadn't been for that something in Aristotle's character, I probably woul'd've given up. Marked it as another "did-not-finish". As it was, reading the book could make me relate to my more or less incredibly sucky teenage years, years where I was confused, angry, antisocial, lonely, and bored, much like the purposeless boy in this certain story. The boy who was barely managing to meander his way through the pathetic excuse that was his life.

Then there was Dante. Oh, Dante. My friend, who was actually the one who recommended this book to me (which is just a nice way of saying she basically threw the book at me and told me she would come in the middle of the night with a pointy reckoning if I did not read the effin' book) told me that Ari was the person she was and Dante was the person she aspired to be. That truly is the difference between the two. As unlikable as Ari is sometimes, he is never, ever, unrelatable, while Dante, mostly lovable, was for some reason, a very unrelatable character.

Nonetheless, it wasn't what I'd call spectacular or phenomenal or all the other amazing things that I'd heard people say about this book. It was readable, and it had a few cute quotes here and there, lines that were written so one could tack them onto a motivational poster and hang it up in their room, but inspirational quotes and the easy-to-read style of the book did little to ease my disappointment that against all odds, I wasn't enjoying the read.

Cue part 3.
Everything started to changed.
Everything started coming together. More quotable lines. The relatability factor was turned up significantly. The subtle, poetic prose of the book, the simple elegance, started speaking to me.

(view spoiler)[ On a completely different note, the last 60 pages of the book confused me. I mean, was all that really necessary? For people who have read the book, please do tell the point of all that was. Happens right around the page 300 mark. Thank you. (hide spoiler)]

For anyone who's ever read the book, it is not opinion, it is a FACT that Aristotle, as a character, develops drastically throughout the book, largely due to Dante, but also because of his parents, Dante's parents, and even his dog.
However, his development isn't as noticeable as you'd think it'd be from a first person POV and multiple defining revelations. Maybe it's because Aristotle develops not as the generic fiction protagonist in a book does, but rather as an actual person. He blooms and then he fades and dies before slowly, slowly, blooming once more. His transformation isn't a slow, steady, uphill hike from antisocial angsty boy to poetry-loving, peaceful, outgoing man. If it were, I'd literally rip out the pages of the book in disgust. No, his transformations goes through more downs than ups, and when the ups come, they come slowly because it takes time for people to change. That was turning point number one.

Another thing that differentiated this book from other coming-of-age young adult novels is that the parents and the kid have a healthy relationship in this book. Unlike The Catcher in the Rye or Looking for Alaska, the child is not whisked away to some boarding school to be thrust into great adventures and discover his true purpose and find the great perhaps.
If it weren't for the internal monologue, A&D (I'm abbreviating because I'm lazy and my laptop keys are prone to getting stuck) would truly be boring at times because it is realistic fiction that is, in fact, realistic.
Parents play a huge role in most teens' lives, whether or not we like to admit it.
Although we may complain, it usually is for the good. Not including the 1% of parents who really should go burn in hell because they are terrible parents, parents love their children, and although we may not like to admit it, they are usually right, and their guidance as it suggests, guides us.

This book is different. It is not a book that will sweep you up in a flurry, a type of book that is absolutely impossible to put down, a book about teens discovering themselves through illegal acts and late-night parties and a moment of despair. Are there illegal acts? Yes. Are there late-night parties? Yes. Is there a moment of despair? More than one, actually. But this isn't about that. Adolescence isn't about that. This book revels in driving out to the desert and watching the stars with your best friend, in realizing how crazy you are about your parents, about early-morning jogs with your dog. This book is about grappling with secrets and realizing you had the answer all along in that moment when you decide to stop caring so much about the world and start caring about that person, that person's whose face is like the map of a world without darkness.

And while Sáenz's execution did become sloppy sometimes, although there were moments when I had no idea exactly why I was continuing to read the book, although there were times when the writing exuded the terrible, try-hard poetic literature of my angsty, seventh-grade prose, in the end, yes, the book got to me. It made it's point.

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe was written for all who feel different, who are different-- people who learn how to embrace beauty, love and life.

So my scatterbrained review comes to its end and this time, I shall leave you with a very fitting quote, not from A&D, but from Ellen Page's coming out speech which I highly recommend you watch (), words which I believe Aristotle and Dante would've not only loved, but also would've understood, and for that reason, loved all the more:

"I am young, yes, but what I have learned is that love, the beauty of it, the joy of it and yes, even the pain of it, is the most incredible gift to give and to receive as a human being. And we deserve to experience love fully, equally, without shame and without compromise."