of all the books i have read, the one that has managed to present human desire and a deepness of life in the most honest, intense manner is What I Was, by Meg Rosoff.

I borrowed the book from my cousin Carmen. She told me that it was a good read, but flipping through it I'd dismissed her words immediately. Too much description. I was an Oscar Wilde fan. I adore swift, deadly verses that the intelligent of this world use to shut the other guy up. Simple and full of truth. What I Was seemed to me a long-winded, old man's tale. Or, as they say, a 'grandmother's story' Ironic, really, this phrase, because your grandmother probably has better stories to tell than your contemporaries.

Anyway, the first thing that caught my eye (or mind) in the story was the ending.

SPOILER ALERT! SCROLL DOWNWARDS AND DO NOT READ THIS PART IF YOU PLAN TO READ THE BOOK AND DONT WHAT IT SPOILED.

First twist: The boy whom the narrator was so obsessed with shared his name: Finn.

Second twist: The boy is really a girl. The narrator only found out when the nurses and doctor told him, after he'd help send the girl to the hospital. The blood he thought meant a horrible disease was actually menstruation. That was really... Well, interesting.

So after that, I began to read... Slowly.

I can't bring myself to finish the book in one sitting, because it was too full of emotion. Not the exclaimation-mark, passionate kind. It was something like an icy fire, or a calm, wide sea- very flat, but at the same time, you shiver when you really think about the power the sea has. This book has that kind of a power, which I think is honesty. Meg Rosoff is to the point.

So if she was so to-the-point, then how come it's so full of description? It is both. By being short and frank, Meg Rosoff could fill up each paragraph with meanings that go beyond imagination.

For me, personally, almost every page required me to stop and digest everything. I just can't keep on reading without stopping. I think it's because I'm very afraid of missing out one part of it. So much of it is precious. Who knows what I would miss?

Two things in particular I adore about this book.

One is the issue on the mediocrity of life. It is something that I have often wondered, and worried, about. I don't always, though, because of God. Mediocrity is something very fascinating to me. This book touches on how people just live to exist.

Many people don't think about this much. I bet you don't. Most people are living too comfortably to notice anything beyond their circle, to think about death, if I may say so. Too numbed by the routine of life to worry about it. Too comforted by 'whatever will be will be' to try and find out. A nice orderly queue, punctuated by graduations, marriage, child-birth...

I don't condone extremism, but neither am I too happy about shallow lives. You may feel insulted at the word 'shallow'. What would I know about lives that I have never lived? Well, I would say, ask people if they think their lives are boring, with no purpose, unhappy... You'll find yourself some shallow lives. Take note though, I'm not saying shallow 'people'.

The second thing, and also the theme of the story, is a person's intense desire for something.

That sounds pretty normal, but when anything is intense, it isn't as boring as you think it is. I have yet to figure out the real desire of the narrator concerning the boy Finn, but already at their first meeting I was sucked into it:

Love? Lust? Envy?

The narrator had described himself as a boy who is, frankly, of no value. Not smart, not handsome, not athletic, not popular. But us, as the readers, can see very obviously that the narrator possesses the ability to see beyond the solid mass of norm people know as life.

If he'd believed in God, he would have thanked Him for letting him be the loser he was. Because you don't miss what you have.