I did enjoy the book in some parts, the characters were well done. There is a lot about Charlie’s experience that I relate to, but I don’t think just relating to some character necessarily says something about how good a book is.
The sideline about him reading books and writing essays for his English teacher was weak as piss. He doesn’t talk much about the books or his essays on them, except that he likes the books and he wrote the essay. I get he’s a high schooler, but he could at least give us some half-baked mess of an opinion. That also makes it really difficult to believe the exchange between Charlie and his English teacher where he calls Charlie the most gifted writer he’s ever known. It reminds me of MTV Daria; we are told she is this great writer, but we never see her do much writing. I dare say, some parts with Charlie is written by a motivation of the author to vicariously experience recognition as a great writer. Chbosky has said before that Charlie is semi-autobiographical after all.
It’s revealed right at the end of the second last chapter what was causing Charlie’s PTSD, which he suffers through this entire book. I think it should have had more time to develop. It would completely uproot anyones life what happened to him, but instead we blitz past it to a feel-good callback ending. It’s kind of sappy.
The story was touching at times, but much of it is just a drag. Maybe if I read it a few years ago, I’d have thought differently.