Have you ever had a delayed reaction to something? You don't react when it actually happens, but later, the enormity of what has happened and the emotions you have because of it sort creep up behind you and hit you in the back. Not to your head, because you're always conscious, but right to your spine, so you feel the hit. 
 That was my experience with Fall for Anything. When I finished it, I was like, "Yeah, good book: steady plot, interesting characters, good writing, some shocking moments at the exact right times. Yeah, solid read." But I wasn't emotionally attached. I just wasn't - something didn't click. 
 And then I started writing my review, and I was really surprised at the emotions that sneaked their hands around my waist from behind. And then I realized precisely how much I liked Eddie. And how much I wanted to absolutely punch almost everyone around her, including her catatonic mother. And then I would find her dad's grave, dig him up, and punch him, too (hey, he left her in horrendous situation - completely pro-Eddie, here). We won't talk about what I wanted to do to her mom's best friend. 
 Wow, does that sound angry? Yeah, I was angry. What Eddie went through was bullshit, pure and simple. Unfortunately, it happens. In short, dad checked out permanently, mom was present but um, vacant, you could say, and mom's unwelcome best friend (Beth) checked-in, but not for Eddie, the 17 year-old in this story. Oh no, she checked in for mummy WHO SHOULD HAVE DONE BETTER! 
 Basically, everyone (save one person) abandoned Eddie in the book. And then Eddie's grief high jacked her own better judgment and sense of clarity (thanks, daddy-o). 
 Excuse me why I go take friggin' deep cleansing breath (I hate you, Beth). 
 Okay, good now - let's get back to the basics then, shall we? 
 Right from the start, Eddie simply wasn't a character I could pity. I actually think she'd be pretty pissed at me if I did. It got me thinking, "When did pity become a bad thing?" After all, it's akin to sympathy, and feeling a heartfelt, emotional connection with someone isn't usually a bad thing. I think pity is different because the word has developed this connotation of being a face value emotion. It's like saying, "Oh, that's such a shame. Well, call me next week - I have to fix dinner now." Feeling pity for a character like Eddie would've been like leaving a casserole on her doorstep, but never actually being there for her. It's thinking someone won't be able to claw back to hope, and you're already looking at them like they're washed up. Pity is too defeatist and shallow an emotion to offer up to someone who has been through a personal hell and just wants answers. 
 Eddie's father has left her in a severe state of mental anguish with absolutely jack to hold onto. When we first meet Eddie, I don't think she even knows how deep the pain runs - it's literally to the point where she's numb, and she's experiencing psychosomatic symptoms. If her mom was with it, maybe she could've have gotten Eddie into grief counseling, but that was a no-go. To make matters just peachy, her best friend has moved in to ***motivate*** her mom back to life - think a female version of Richard Simmons with a more militant attitude and less compassion, but she would completely whip out some jazz hands if she thought it would help Eddie's mom. I could appreciate it, if she wasn't so harsh towards Eddie. 
 Cherry that sundae of sadness with Culler. Yes, please do say that name with an italicized emphasis and disgusted sneer - out of the people who used Eddie and/or her mother's loss for personal gain (although they lied to themselves and called it something else), this guy was the worse. He could've been a great, big brother type for her in a perfect world, or picked the road of aloof kindness, but life's about decisions, no? And Mr. Artsy Photographer made his. He was the variable in this book, the what-if monkey wrench who turned into a. . . well, I won't tell you what he did, obviously. Drop me a line when you find out and we'll have a character roast. 
 And, oh Milo, bless that guy for being Eddie's personal lighthouse. She needed a rock Unfortunately, both she and Milo were both dealing with grief, and that clouded both their decisions. The choices that Eddie made from her grief, from her father's selfish, selfish decision. . . he would've died twice had seen the circumstances his daughter put herself in. Grief can make you do crazy things, but you are searching for peace so hard that the decisions seem rational and needed. Eddie felt she needed to do something because the actual truth of why her father took his own life had no rationale to it - it wasn't something she could face, especially since he had rational reasons for staying (like being there for her). Eddie wanted steady ground to stand on. The things she did were stupid and naive, but no, I can't bring myself to blame her. After all, would I have done any different, being 17, physically abandoned by one parent and emotionally by another? That's the real trick about this book - most of the characters were authentic. So believable. Even when Eddie was doing something crazy, it still felt real. If you had to switch shoes with her, you might find yourself doing the same. That's the sad part: I still don't know if she's going to be okay. I don't think we're meant to. 
 I didn't cry while reading this book. Like I said, there was a detachment there that kept me from really sinking in. But, if Eddie were real, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from checking on her at night, just like Milo did. I didn't completely connect with her, but I sure did care about what happened to her. 
 Okay, now I'm tearing up a bit. 
 Yeah, I recommend this book.