It's Leonard Peacock's 18th birthday. He has big plans, plans that involve using his grandfather's Nazi WWII pistol to kill a classmate, and former friend, Asher before killing himself. But first he has to say goodbye to the four most important people in his life: the elderly neighbor with whom he watches old Humphrey Bogart films, the student he listens to practicing their music at lunchtime, his Holocaust teacher, and the home-schooled evangelical Christian for which he harbors a crush. Along the way we learn more about Leonard Peacock, and what has brought him to this moment. 
 While we gradually learn more about Leonard Peacock, through his point-of-view, the details revealed in a slow-building masterful way, I don't necessarily like who I see. I recognize Leonard Peacock. This book leaves me feeling glad I was never inside their head. I went into this book conflicted, especially about how I was supposed to feel about a character that starts us off relishing in the thought of committing such an awful action. I was ready to be sympathetic to him, knowing that his targeting of killing Asher specifically hinted at a horrible history of some kind there. And there was. 
 And yet, I couldn't always get on board with Leonard. I felt bad for him, sure. Even before knowing what happened with Asher, his home life was no walk in the park. He was obviously unhappy, approaching life with a cynical air that included following miserable adults to work to see how bad it could get. Leonard feels superior to his classmates, something not all that surprising in both high school and from someone in his frame of mind. I think what ultimately turned me off Leonard was the way he interacted with Lauren, the home schooled Christian girl. He was attracted to her, but when she turned out to have a boyfriend he became angry with her. His questioning of her faith was maliciously aimed rather than stemming from a place of curiosity. Finally, when it seemed he finally was being emotionally honest with her, he kissed her, even after she had told him she was saving that for marriage. Regardless of beliefs it seemed a way to bring her down, and I think in a way he relished in having power in even that one area of his life. 
 Even Leonard's letters from the future, a task assigned by his teacher in hopes of providing a promising tomorrow to look forward to were tinged with pessimism. The letters themselves threw me as a narrative device. We don't find out about the assignment until much later, bringing things together nicely. Before that I was left somewhat floundering as we left things emotionally intense modern YA novel for missives from some unknown, dystopia future. Overall, they interrupted the flow of the novel and weren't particularly engaging, neither did they offer me much hope for the future (although that may not have been the point). 
 Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock left me with many mixed feelings, but it also got me thinking, and that's never a bad thing. Neither are we obligated to like a character to need to hear their story.