There are storytellers, and there are artists in writing.Either can tell a story, but the artist tells it dramatically and with precise metaphoric detail. The words are beautiful or terrifying, the description so absolute you can feel it in your bones, no matter the mood of the description or the interpreter of the words.
The story is unique and takes its time letting you in on its secrets. Whenever I thought maybe I had it figured out, I would quickly realize otherwise. This happened several times; eventually I gave up trying, and just read until I absorbed everything I possibly could, not wanting to fool myself again. There were icky love chapters that held my attention somewhat less, but I never felt that they stole anything from the Pendomus story. After all, the main character is feeling these emotions for the first time in her life. Eerily, I think those moments even added to the feeling. These are not words that you will find me saying frequently.