I wanted to like this book. I truly did. The movie first caught my attention, and I thought I should first read the book... even knowing the bad omen that Jeremy Irons typically represents. >.> 
 Things started out looking good. Despite the accusations of it being a gender-flipped version of Twilight, I never got that sense. Here was a rare example of a YA paranormal romance told almost entirely from the 1st person male POV, set to the backdrop of small-town southern life and richly steeped in a gothic civil-war remnant mystique. The writing was competent, well-edited, and spiked with obligatory references to classic literature. But unfortunately, a lot of those novelties wore off before the story was halfway finished. 
 Lets start with Ethan. Because, well, it's his head we're imprisoned in for almost the entire story--despite a few conveniently telepathic insertions from heroine Lena (which seemed conspicuously absent at times it would have come in handy). Ethan never actually convinced me he was a guy--let alone a swoon-worthy one. Now, I'll grant you some males are naturally passive, even effeminate...but that's not where I was running into problems suspending my disbelief. I've yet to meet a 16-year-old boy so thoroughly in control of his thoughts, emotions, and hormones. He describes physical appearance and attributes nearly ad nauseam, yet doesn't seem at all visual when it comes to an appreciation for the female form. If not for the insta-love angle, he would have remained otherwise milk-toast bland. 
 Which relates to another problem that impeded my enjoyment: Insta-love. True, I'm never a fan of this plot device--paranormal or not. I can come to accept it when there's sufficient explanation, and a convincing chemistry between the characters. In this case...I didn't get either of those mitigating factors. >.> I kept hoping for some big reveal that would justify the basis of their telepathic/dreaming connectivity, but even the supernatural characters--who seemed otherwise well versed in the rules of their world--had no answers. (I THINK they were eventually trying to allude to some form of reincarnation, but I'm not sure...given none of the characters were ever sure. >.>) And the magical/electrical/life-threatening chemistry between them physically didn't make up for the blase emotional alchemy. Or maybe the ultimate problem was I never really liked either of them, and so couldn't figure out why they liked each other. >.< 
 Another issue that rubbed me wrong was the enduring sense that all but two of Gatlin's mortal born-and-raised residents are horrible, shallow, mindless, and bigoted--to a dazzlingly one-dimensional extreme. The overwhelming ignorance is lightened only by the hero's wonderful (yet dead) mother and her long-time librarian friend, who were of course non-native and educated at universities like Duke and Harvard. Now, I'm all for promoting "higher" education...but there came a point about 2/3rds of the way through where it all started to sound downright pretentious. Especially when it came layered in with such an inordinate number of southern-hostile stereotypes. (And this is coming from a Yankee, by the way. >.>) 
 Ultimately, it was the pacing that decided the star rating. The tension remained low for much of the book, and there was an abundance of elaborately-described, yet mundane activity that didn't feel necessary. Lots of waiting for unexplained stuff to happen. But I suspect with all of that piddling around cut out, and given some halfway-decent special effects, it would still make a decent movie. I'm just not enthralled enough to invest in reading farther into the series.