I think I wanted to enjoy this book more than I actually enjoyed this book. It had the potential to be a heart breaker of epic proportions, given the synopsis, but I just felt too little of a connection to the characters or the story. 
 The book opened and I was incensed and intrigued from the first line: 
 "I've read many more books than you. It doesn't matter how many you've read. I've read more." 
 I initially cast the protagonist as pretentious and unlikable. My dislike from the first page developed into warm endorsement by the second. Pity and heartbreak came on the third. 
 Because Maddy, our protagonist, is sick. Like really, really , life-long illness type of sick, and has spent every one of her seventeen years of life indoors. And this has been an existence she could cope with, until the arrival of a new family next door. In particular, the arrival of the new family's son, Olly, next door. Which is when she begins to question everything; everything everything. 
 The book contained enough to initially ensnare my attention - a beautiful cover, a heartbreaking synopsis and an engaging and conversational tone to the writing. I liked the diversity of characters and I liked them all as individuals, in their separate existence. I loved how we were introduced to Maddy's books before herself and it broke my heart that Maddy's name was first learnt from her patient card. There was a strength in Maddy that really captivated me: she had a broken body, but her heart was still whole. I felt hollow reading it and was beginning to dread the ending from the first chapter! 
 I loved how sweet the relationship was between Maddy and her mother. It was as sweet as vanilla cake with vanilla frosting... but it soon became as sickly as the four slices of said cake that Maddy eats on her Birthday. And maybe it is at this point that the book became sour for me. 
 And if I disliked their relationship, then I abhorred Maddy and Ollie's incessant, teenage-angst filled romantic encounters and anecdotes. There were some sweet moments in between all the angst but I felt, on the whole, it was a rushed and unbelievable case of insta-romance. 
 Yoon's writing was just beautiful, however, and I really don't think I have given it enough credit in this review. If I was rating this book on that alone, I would have given it 5 stars. But, alas... 
 I hate it when a comparison is made between different books, but I also believe it is the author's job to make me forget that any others exist whilst I'm reading. I couldn't help myself comparing this book to John Green's The Fault in Our Stars and contemplating its supremacy. Whilst I didn't exactly dislike the book, I felt the impact and potential of it was so much greater than the outcome.