Five stars is a big deal. It's an honor badge, a frikkin A++ on a 26 letter grading scale. That doesn't make sense but whatever. The point is, I don't give out five stars easily. There are goals that need to be met while reading to even consider the possibility. 
 The book has to make me feel. It has to make me happy and sad and angry and anxious. I want to laugh out loud one minute and then have my stomach tied up in knots the next. It may be greedy to expect that all from one book, but we're talking about five stars, here. 
 It also has to stay with me long after I've read it, and the fact that I am currently typing this review on my damn phone while my husband sleeps next to me proves that it has done exactly that. 
 It's not like this was a work of literary art. Twenty years from now, I'm not sure I'll remember the characters names or the plot. If someone asks me what my favorite book is, I won't be saying Good. It didn't necessarily change my life, but it did make me want more. It made me clasp my Kindle in a death grip, my knuckles turning white from the force. It made me skip to the last page just so I could know what happened because I felt liable to go insane. 
 It made me root for a story that isn't real and believe in characters that don't exist. That's all anyone could ever ask from a book.