Book Review: Breaking Nova

I received this book from Forever (Grand Central Publishing) in exchange for a review, and here it is!
nova
Published 3rd September 2013 by FOREVER

MY REVIEW:
“Do you ever get the feeling that we’re all just lost?…Just roaming around the earth, waiting around to die.” – Landon

Jessica Sorensen is a powerful writer who knows how to play with her plot, and work her characters till they become her puppets coming to life. When an author is a master of words, he/she wields the power to stir up emotions stronger than one has ever felt before by pulling the strings on her Pinocchios.

Sorensen’s prologue takes her readers to the psychology behind why the lead characters behave the way they do, and I was drawn to Nova’s sadness and Quinton’s tragedy. So much darkness enshrouds the book that its impossible not to feel moved. For the record, this is the first review in which I’m raving about an author’s ability to create an atmosphere, and not so much on her characters!

“There’s a strange kind of serenity that comes with silence, but maybe that’s because it’s nearly impossible to achieve. Not only do I have to shut out the outside noise, but I also have to tune out the noise within me…”

Nova and Quinton are forced to deal with very harsh, very real issues. Nova’s serious OCD is punctuated by the post-traumatic stress from discovering her deceased boyfriend’s body. Quinton’s self-destructive behaviour stems from guilt over the deaths of his cousin Ryder and girlfriend Lexi.

“One, two, three. One, two, three. I can’t seem to get the counting and the obsessing out of my head. I’m always drowning in it and the memories of that god awful day that I can’t quite remember, but can’t quite forget. It owns me. I just want to feel alive, but all I feel is numb. But then I meet Quinton. He makes me feel alive and for the first time in my life, I can breathe.”

As the tragic heroes collide, so do all their fears, scars and insecurities. Each seeking solace in learning about their pasts and finding a way to move on, neither knowing how and where to take this further. When Tristan, whose sister was killed in Quinton’s accident, confessed that he likes Nova and wants Quinton to back off, the latter gives in to his guilt and packs up his feelings for Nova…briefly.

Ultimately they can’t stay away from what promises to be the start of a long arduous healing and crashing process for the two of them. Breaking Nova is the first book, and with the epilogue, we catch a glimpse of Nova’s attempt to save Quinton from himself, as she sinks further into her own depression.

As dark as everything sounds, I beg to differ that this is a depressing novel. Instead, its enlightening aspect outshines the gloom, throwing the psyche of 2 very dark minds into perspective. I’m definitely looking forward to the sequel.

If Breaking Nova was ever to be made a movie,
NOVA REED: Minka Kelly
Minka-Wallpaper-minka-kelly-1724531-1280-800

QUINTON CARTER: Adam Gregory
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SYNOPSIS:
Nova Reed used to have dreams-of becoming a famous drummer, of marrying her true love. But all of that was taken away in an instant. Now she’s getting by as best she can, though sometimes that means doing things the old Nova would never do. Things that are slowly eating away at her spirit. Every day blends into the next . . . until she meets Quinton Carter. His intense, honey brown eyes instantly draw her in, and he looks just about as broken as she feels inside.

Quinton once got a second chance at life-but he doesn’t want it. The tattoos on his chest are a constant reminder of what he’s done, what he’s lost. He’s sworn to never allow happiness into his life . . . but then beautiful, sweet Nova makes him smile. He knows he’s too damaged to get close to her, yet she’s the only one who can make him feel alive again. Quinton will have to decide: does he deserve to start over? Or should he pay for his past forever?

Psychoanalysis of Strangers

We all derive false impressions upon first sight.

I see an old lady with a jewellery pushcart
and think how pitiable to be working at her age.
She must be terribly in need of money, or perhaps her children have left her.
My mind goes wild thinking of possibilities to define her situation.

Don’t we all have that disgusting habit of filling in the gaps
for our knowledge of somebody else’s life?

You can’t have imagined
this could have been all she dreamt of in her younger years.
A simple side-walk business, working in her most comfortable knitted dress.
Occasionally in her Sunday best,
selling beautiful handcrafted creations to a much younger version of herself –
a stressed-out young office lady in town on a precious weekend.
The old lady could love these welcome deviations
from high-powered business-suits,
high-rise offices and even higher heels
she had been so painfully accustomed to.
She’s finally able to live her dream at 85 years old.

Whoever stops to think about an old lady on a pushcart?
She’s nobody to you
except the intriguing know-it-all smile that comes with age.
As if there’s a certain familiarity,
a sense of knowing who I am and what I’m thinking as I look at her.
She’s somebody who’s seen a great deal of things,
enough to recognize a blank notebook waiting to be filled.

My idea of a great afternoon –
sitting in a cafe
with good coffee, too much chocolates
and a pile of books.

When I need excitement, I get it in extreme doses,
which is why I love roller coasters
too loud music,
and laughing insanely over the smallest things.

Will I be the same
Ten years
Twenty years
Fifty years down the road
Would I still recognize myself when I see my own reflection in the window glass?
I’d have outlived the old lady,
But will I have outlived myself,
dried out, wasted and still empty?
Or will I be filled with age and years,
smiling to girls who saunter pass on lazy Sunday afternoons,
having lived the life I dreamt,
while still thankful for sunrise
in handing out the opportunity to seize every minute by the ticking hand
till we pause to catch our breaths and enjoy the beauty of sunset.

The old lady doesn’t care about curious stares.
She goes on with her life.

lovee
It’s a scientifically proven fact for passing automatic judgements…
our own little psychoanalysis of strangers.
Ultimately perceptions can only take us so close to,
but never right into,
the heart of what’s real.

♛ Scarlet Carousel | Prologue

{Prologue} Reina Yamaguchi’s

1999
Nagoya

To most children, the boogeyman and clowns were stuff of nightmares. But she had long associated fear with the sickly sweet scent of candy floss, and vibrant colours.

In the nebula of her subconscious, colours haunted her dreams and taunted her waking hours. When she allowed herself to close her eyes, her memories were a ricochet of psychedelic bullets. She felt each one pierce her skull, as inextricably painfully as a real bullet would. 

She was 6. The arms that had caught her then were strong, muscular, enveloping as they wrapped round her waist like fiercely protective vines. Smiling in expectation of her mother or brother’s comforting features, she turned, only to come face to face with a stranger’s menacing smile.

She hadn’t known fear, thus she couldn’t cry. She hadn’t known danger. Her beam lingered, as did her trace of innocence. Her lithe little body knew nothing of fight nor flight; she was physically, emotionally unguarded.

Naivety was only to be carried away like an object of trade while those who were supposed to be there for her watched from a safe distance, bidding their guiltless goodbyes.

carousel

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Scarlet Carousel
Searching for the centre of the universe, the centrifugal force that holds everything together.
Each spinning out of control, yet inevitably riveted.
Is this a journey with an end, or does the weight of the world settle in places where the spinning never stops.
Where then will the spiral lead them?

To be continued…

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xoxo
Viktoria Jean