Wicked was the most disappointing book I've read in a very long time. It had been recommended to me a number of times, and after absolutely adoring the musical I decided I would finally see if the book was just as entertaining. 
 Long story short, it wasn't. There was a golden period in the book, in the high school years, where I genuinely enjoyed the things that were happening. If the book had just been that, this would be a very different review. As it is, it falls far short of its potential. The plot gives you the impression that it has direction, that things matter, that something might actually be resolved and give these events some meaning. The plot is lying. None of these things happen, and by the end I was so thoroughly disheartened that I couldn't believe I devoted so much time to reading it. 
 In a way, I almost feel unfair for finding it so completely unfulfilling; if the musical didn't exist, maybe this book would come off better. But because the musical DOES exist it will always be vastly superior in every possible way. I give the author kudos for allowing the musical to happen in the first place, because I love that musical more than I can say, so at least his vision inspired the right people in the end. But as it stands, I have no desire to ever read the sequels. 
 In sum, I would not actually recommend this book to anyone, but I give it two stars instead of one because the author can write, and that I've read books that are worse. Everything he does is definitely intentional, and the book reads as though it follows his plan to the letter (even though I would personally argue with the logic of it at every step). And there ARE people who enjoy this book. I won't refute them this. I'm glad they like it so much, and I respect that. I'm just very, very much not one of them.