We are infinite...
This is the best of the books I have read so far. A sad, funny and heartfelt account of a naive boy growing up in the early 90s. Chbosky doesn't describe his characters outer appearances, but you see into their souls. I found the lack of description completely irrelevant, it wouldn't have fit with the style. Charlie is our protagonist, who is writing letters to someone, bearing his soul. I found it more like a diary than a conversation, much more introspective and philosophical than communicatorary. In parts it made me cry, and others snort with laughter. I couldn't put it down.
Charlie's way of dealing with the ups and inevitable downs of life really made me think. Remember the good times, they help the bad. Try not to cry unless it's important. Remember the days when you feel like the summer air. Listen and I mean really LISTEN, to songs with your friends, and feel the infinite possibilities. Don't take LSD and fall asleep in the snow. Hand made presents and those that are carefully thought about are better than anything else, and do not require a one-up-mans-ship around them. Books are to be shared. Teachers, are at the end of the day, trying to help. That's what I learned from this book.
Although the ending disappointed me, and took me by surprise and I find it impossible to think of a 15 year old boy who didn't know what masturbation was. This was set in the 90s Chbosky! Charlie does at times seem slightly too naive to be plausible, but then again Charlie isn't normal, he has been mentally ill. I love Charlie's honest descriptions of times he feels like screaming, but realises it's probably not the right thing to do. His description of Micheal's suicide is sad, touching and so vivid you can almost taste the bitter pill of his pain.
I chose not to focus on that. I chose to think of the day when I felt like summer air and spring grass, when I remembered I was infinite...
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