I managed to find a book that shocked and awed me, while pulling me so deep into the character’s miserable life – yet giving me a tiny glimpse of hope to hang onto – that I couldn’t put it down.
The Color of Rain, by Cori McCarthy is stunning. The prose is gorgeous. The writing is emotionally compelling. The situation is dire. The ending is bittersweet. Everything about this book made me yearn for more. It made me want to keep reading. This book made me hope. I couldn’t stop turning the pages, begging for the main characters to get a lucky break, terrified they wouldn’t.
And it’s so dark. Not the world. There’s none of the “brown and dirty” that I often find in these kinds of books. The world was lovely, rich with color, people, and cultures. It’s what lay under all that which made it so ominous. The villain masked by a pretty face. The desperation obscured by possibilities. This book took my heart, crushed it into a knot, then threw it onto the floor and waited for things to slowly return to their proper state. It left my emotions dangling by a thread while the characters suffered things that should happen to no human, but patched me up at the end.
In other words, I was taken along for a ride. I’m just thankful I had a seatbelt on this rollercoaster. Well done, Cori McCarthy. Very well done.