3.5 Stars 
 I don't think I've ever been so glad to be wrong about something. I have to admit, I started out reading this because I was convinced I'd hate it. After all, its fans were driving me crazy, and as far as I could tell from the overview it was just another gothic/urban fantasy romance novel. But as I like to know what I'm talking about when I decry something, I decided to read as far into the book as I could stand. 
 At first I skimmed, convinced in my bias that I was already wasting my time. And then...I started reading. And I couldn't stop. I went back and re-read what I'd skimmed, and by the time I finished I was bewildered that I'd actually enjoyed myself. The story, the setting, the structuring, and the writing style were all very much up my alley. Emotional and even lyrical at times. Not astoundingly brilliant, as far as literary works go--but entertaining, viscerally moving, and somehow capable of clinging to my memory like peanut butter to the roof of my mental mouth. 
 I didn't stop there, oh no. 
 So maybe the first book was pretty good, but surely the author would disappoint me in the next book or two by progressing the tactfully sensual into the irreverently sexual. But by the time I got to the fourth book I finally accepted that she had somehow been candid and true to the teenage hormone-driven emotional overload without skipping down the easy, predictable route that most callously do. While the fourth book seemed to deviate from the first three significantly, I found I enjoyed it nearly as much. Ultimately, I'm glad it's become such an icon for the current generation. It's nice to know there is something of influence in the culture that doesn't encourage the prevailing confusion over the difference between sex and love.