Matched by Ally Condie
My rating: 1 of 5 stars
There is a society in which everything is planned. And when I say “everything,” I really mean it. They plan how many children you're gonna have, what your job's gonna be, who you're going to marry, even the day you'll die (if you don't die sooner) is planned. This is the society in which Cassia lives.
When I read the synopsis for the first time I was really intrigued. Back when I read this book, I was in a dystopian face of my life. I only read those kind of books. You may recommend me a good book and I wouldn't have probably read it because I only wanted dystopia. So you can guess I was like this:
I was hoping I could get some interesting and complicated book, but what I got was far from good. I started it eager, nonetheless, that excitement suddenly faded away. At one moment, I was on page one, and ten hours later I was on page five. Really, I could spend hours reading and reading and the story never moved on. This was boring.
But that was the least of the problems. There was another one that bothered me more, and it was the insta-love.
I said the society in which Cassia lived arranged your whole life. Part of that was your husband. Well, she didn't wish anyone in specific, but she had some preference towards her friend Xavier, because she knew him, not necessarily because she was in love with him. The thing is, when her moment for her partner to be assigned came, she got Xavier, but before the image faded, she saw a glimpse of another face, one that was not Xavier's.
You know where this is going, don't you? She's interested in knowing who the guy is. So one day, she's just living her normal life and bam! The guy appears and insta-love gets in the way. They start meeting after that, the guy starts to introduce rebellious ideas in her mind, and since she's innocent and never breaks the rule, of course she cannot do anything but succumb to his charms.
Furthermore, nothing happened and the writing was insipid, so I was not left with anger, or sadness, or thrill. When I read books, I like to feel. I like to experiment anything inside me, whether it be hatred, happiness, sorrow or thrill.
That's right. I didn't feel anything. Or well, I did feel something... and it was that I had been wasting my time.
I've no idea why I continued the series, because it just grew worse and worse with each book. The second one has the middle-book syndrome and it's more boring than this one, and the last one I didn't even manage to finish. I don't do this anymore. This habit I had of continuing series I don't like is something I no longer do. Why I did that before is something I cannot answer.
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