The Way I Am Now: A Disheartening Journey of Missed Opportunities
When a sequel to a beloved book is finally released, it can spark a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, anticipation, and hope. For years, I had been waiting for the follow-up to The Way I Used to Be, eager to dive back into Eden and Josh’s story. Sarah Everett’s The Way I Am Now promised healing, growth, and a satisfying conclusion to their saga. Yet, upon finishing, I found myself grappling with an overwhelming sense of disappointment.
The premise held such promise. Eden’s journey was one of trauma and resilience, shedding light on significant themes like healing and self-discovery. The anticipation laid in the open-ended conclusion of the first book, leaving us yearning for Eden to navigate her life beyond high school, dealing with the scars of her past, from her painful experiences of sexual assault to the trials of young adulthood. Instead, what we received felt more like a missed opportunity than the catharsis I had desperately hoped for.
One of the most glaring issues was the questionable focus on character development. Instead of exploring Eden’s psychological journey, The Way I Am Now spends a staggering 70% of its pages with Josh, effectively sidelining Eden’s growth. While I, too, adored the sweet moments of their rekindled romance—the flirty text exchanges, shared glances, and the tender pining—these moments came at the cost of deeper exploration into Eden herself. As much as I rooted for their relationship, I longed for equal emphasis on Eden figuring out her trauma, navigating her relationships, and truly reflecting on her past decisions.
Everett’s writing style is as flowing as it is engaging, drawing you into the world she has crafted. However, the pacing felt uneven. The book was marked by abrupt time jumps that left crucial developments unexplored and vital character arcs unresolved. Questions swirled in my mind—how did Eden resolve her relationship with Mara? What concrete steps was she taking to heal? The narrative veered off course, shifting focus without providing the necessary framework to understand the whys and hows of her journey.
The romantic elements, while endearing, should not overshadow Eden’s necessary evolution. If romance is indeed the key to healing, we must also see the steps that lead to it—not just the love but the learning, the pain, and the growth. The lack of a balanced portrayal left me feeling frustrated; we needed to witness Eden confronting her past and realizing the depth of her mistakes, rather than merely drifting into the arms of a boy who loved her.
In closing, The Way I Am Now may find its place among readers who wish to revel in young love and sweet moments, but those searching for a profound exploration of trauma and resilience might find themselves disheartened. I wished so deeply for Eden’s story to flourish, to be a narrative of courage, growth, and maturity. Unfortunately, it felt as if I was reading someone else’s love story—Joseph’s—rather than the necessary evolution of Eden.
Recommendations: If you’re a fan of contemporary romance and enjoy dual perspectives filled with sweet tension, maybe it’s worth your time. However, if you’re seeking a nuanced exploration of healing or character growth, you might want to tread lightly.
As always, I’m grateful to my friend Hoda, whose companionship made even this mixed bag of a book more enjoyable. Here’s hoping that Eden will someday find her way back into our hearts—with the growth we all wanted to see. 💖
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