I had this book out on semi-permanent loan from the library as a sixteen-year-old, because few other books I'd read dealt quite so well with what it was to be a teenager in love: I adored the descriptions of Carlos's room and sympathised madly with Ella.

Coming back to it nine years later, there are definitely some notes that jar. I find Ella too young in outlook for someone as grown-up and independent as Carlos; and I think the racism aspect is handled clumsily.

I didn't have particularly high expectations of this book - I bought it to read on the plane - but even so, it was disappointing.

I put off reading this for a long, long time, simply because of the hype surrounding it and how excellent everyone seemed to think it was. And - turns out 'everyone' was right. A lovely story well told. What really won me over, though, was that the molecular genetics mentioned was not glaringly inaccurate. Make of that what you will!

I got the impression that I was supposed to be more shocked than I was by what said best friend actually did. Other than that, I found this to be a rather realistic account of what can happen when a friend's mental illness is out of control and an enjoyable - if quick - read.