“Two hundred years ago, there was a storm.” Just throw my 2017 anticipation list away, because Strange the Dreamer was all I needed this year. Not A Court of Wings and Ruin, not Tyrant's Throne, not Skullsworn, not All the Crooked Saints, not The Chosen, not anything. I don't see how anything I'll read in 2017 can beat this. Yet, this book feels unratable, because how do you rate perfection instead of just feeling at a loss of words because of its awe? This book is so much greater than five stars. In fact, the last time I felt this was back in 2015 with The Name of the Wind, and the same feeling of guilt from giving other books five star ratings is here again. This isn't the type of book to come around often. The feeling while reading this is indescribable, but the closest word choice would have to be pure bliss. This is that rare type of book that, while reading, is a constant reminder of why you fell in love with reading in the first place. “On the second Sabbat of Twelfthmoon, in the city of Weep, a girl fell from the sky. Have you ever loved a book so much that it completely fills your soul, warms your heart, and heals your broken pieces?
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