But after the first dozen chapters, I began to think she might be the Borderline Personality Disorder kind of crazy.

But once that bit of morbidity is belayed and the mystery resumed, the pacing drops to sometimes dangerously put-downable levels.Īt first I thought Margo was the fun kind of crazy.

For a while you’re on edge, strung along by the fear that Margo has killed herself and she means for Q to find her body. There’s lots of middle lag to push through. Up until then, the plot could be described as a night of madcap pranks, followed by a long and angsty adolescent scavenger hunt. And the road-trip part wasn’t so much a planned adventure as it was a frantic act of impulse. But whether or not Margot wants to be found (literally or otherwise) is a recurring question.įor a book that’s often touted as road-trip centric, I was a little disappointed to find that the actual road tripping occurred in only the last few chapters. He does so, almost obsessively-with the help of a few semi-cooperative friends. Quentin quickly gleans the impression that she’s left a trail of convoluted proverbial breadcrumbs for him to follow. Having been “in love” with Margot (or, let’s face it, simply infatuated with the idea of her and not knowing the difference) since grade school, Quentin reluctantly joins in her pranks and is eventually rewarded by quality time with the mysterious diva-of-deviousness. Quentin, a self-proclaimed “well-adjusted” high school senior of middling popularity, is suddenly commandeered one night by his fascinatingly eccentric classmate and neighbor, Margot-asked to act as her accomplice in a series of delinquent acts of vengeance. I will never be able to forget the name: Margo Roth Spiegelman.

John green towns