“Evan is alone. His
best only friend, Ariel, is gone. Even is feels responsible. And in her wake, Evan is left with nothing a guilty conscience and never-ending insomnia.
But then, while walking to school one morning, Evan finds an envelope in his path. Inside is a photograph. Of nothing. Except the spot where he is standing.
The next day, Evan finds another envelope. In the exact same spot as before. Inside is another photograph. Of him. Looking at the photo from the day before.
Evan’s not sure what to think. Is Ariel back? Are these photographs her way of
tormenting him for reminding him of what he did to her? Or worse–has someone else found out what he did and is toying with him as punishment? Either way, he will not be able to sleep rest until he finds out who is responsible.
As the cryptic photos keep surfacing, Evan’s paranoia amplifies, and the feeling that he never really knew Ariel at all starts to
paralyze dominate his life thoughts. Will he uncover the truth before he loses his mind his grasp on reality?”
I have to wonder if whoever wrote the book synopsis actually read the book. Because, let me just clear this up–
Ariel is not Evan’s only friend. The second photograph he gets is not of him looking at the photograph from the day before. And the insomnia thing isn’t as important to the story as it is to whoever wrote the book synopsis. I think it’s only even mentioned in passing in one of the chapters.
That said, the book wasn’t bad–even with the misleading synopsis. But the damage has already been done: I was already expecting a story outlined by said synopsis.
I must confess though that I liked how David Levithan introduced the idea of there being a different version of a person for each relationship they might have. Hence the book’s title. Unfortunately, I don’t think the author fully explores this idea as we get caught up with the main character’s quest to find out who is tormenting him.
Had the story been mind-blowingly awesome, I might be singing a different tune. But Levithan’s Ever You, Every Me isn’t particularly intriguing (or interesting) once you take out the “another photograph. Of him. Looking at the photo from the day before.” Suddenly, it’s just another young adult book that deals with teenage angst and guilt.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But–
This book just didn’t do anything for me.