So, I enjoyed Casey McQuiston’s original book, which I hadn’t expected to, given the unlikely premise. But I loved the movie even more, and I’ve been thinking about why that might be.
Leaving aside the great loveliness of Alex and Henry, and the wonderful representation of people from different ethnic and cultural groups, what I liked best was the clarity of the storyline. In the book, the secondary cast is larger and all the characters are more complex (except perhaps Henry). In the movie, one event led seamlessly to the next. Events were foreshadowed in ways that writers can only dream of…the calculating way Miguel Ramos looks at Alex would take a better writer than I to communicate in words.
Every single one of my books runs into the sand at one point or another. I describe it as writing myself into a corner. Getting out of the corner involves a lot of staring into space, scribbling in my notebook, and deleting thousands of perfectly good words. What I am always trying to achieve is that single narrative thread — often with deliberate side turnings and rabbit holes, but a main plot line that moves inevitably from beginning to end. The RWRB movie does that beautifully.
That must be the reason I’ve watched the film many times. Mustn’t it?