Love and Misadventure by Lang Leav (Book)

I am not sure since when my blog turned into a kind of book recension website. I do not have any intention to turn my blog into one, actually. It’s just that I’ve been reading quite some books lately (nothing related to my studies unfortunately 🙈🙈🙈 #shame).

Anyway, Love and Misadventure is the third Lang Leav’s book I’ve read. I should have probably read it first, since this was her first book. But I did not get hold of the book before now, so… 🙂

Overall, I like this book, but not as much as Memories. Probably because I have read some of the poems in Memories? But I think it’s also because I feel that the poems are not as dramatic, sad, and dark as I had hoped (yes, I am a very dark person 🖤). But it’s still worth reading, though. I will give 3.75 stars out of 5 (strange score, I know 😂⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️).

And… here’s one of my favourite poems from the book:

Just Friends

I know that I don’t own you,
and perhaps I never will,
so my anger when you’re with her,
I have no right to feel.

I know that you don’t owe me,
and I shouldn’t ask for more;
I shouldn’t feel so let down,
all the times when you don’t call.

What I feel—I shouldn’t show you,
so when you’re around I won’t;
I know I’ve no right to feel it—
but it doesn’t mean I don’t.

– Lang Leav, Love and Misadventure


I learned that writing is the consolation prize you are given when you don’t get the thing you want the most.

– Lang Leav, Sad Girls


Vännen av Joakim Zander (Bok)

Det här är mitt första inlägg på svenska. Tänkte bara på att försöka. Hur det än går till. 🙂

Jag fick tag på den här boken först som ett läsprov (eller vad det än heter). Jag fick de första 2-3 kapitlen när jag beställde en annan bok och jag gillade den direkt. Spänningen, främst. Så jag bestämde mig att läsa klart och det inte var en besvikelse.

Ärligt talat är det ganska svårt för mig att beskriva storyn men det var fullt av twist and turn. Ibland undrar jag om allt det här är möjligt, men vad vet jag om underrättelsetjänsten? Så om du gillar såna här spänningen, måste du definitivt läsa boken!

Fyra av fem stjärnor till boken! En annan bok som jag inte kan lägga ned! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️


Sad Girls by Lang Leav (Book)

“What if I’m making a huge mistake?”

“Then make it. You can’t go on living a lie.”

– Lang Leav, Sad Girls

This is the first time I read Lang Leav’s novel. I was a bit sceptical at first because I knew that she was such an amazing poet. I was afraid that I wouldn’t find the same beauty in the words that she put as a novel, as it was in a poetry. But I was desperate. The past few days had been so difficult for me. I needed an escape. And the title seemed apt, so I decided to give it a go.

I first read the excerpts from Google books. I should say that as I grew older, it was hard for me to find a book that I couldn’t put down. And this book is one of the very few. I was hooked. I decided to keep on reading and it did not disappoint.

To be honest, it was scary to find how many quotes from the book actually reflect what I had been feeling. And just when you thought you’d get a happy ending, things took a darker turn. *Basically you knew you were screwed when you read something happy just 10 pages before the end of the book. Oh and surprisingly, this was one of a few books which I did not jump on the last page and read the ending.

All in all, I would give this 4 out of 5 stars (should probably write that in Goodreads as well). A bit cliche, perhaps, with light language, but I like it anyway. It was beautiful.


About poetry

It’s been so long since I read a poetry book, but I just borrowed this one from the library. It’s called Memories by Lang Leav. I’ve heard about her works for years, but never really read it until now. And that’s probably a good thing because had it been, say, 4-5 years ago, I would certainly still be drowned in the sea of sadness and misery.

I used to like to write a poem. Or in an occasion or two, a song. But I did not do it so much now. Why? You might wonder. I don’t know. It seemed like the moment I got the most inspiration was also the moment when my heart broke the most. And it’s strange because there’s a prose in the book I am currently reading, that tells me exactly the same thing:

As a little girl, she would drift in and out of libraries filled with dead poets and their musky scent. She held them in her hands and breathed them in – wanting so much to be part of their world.

It wasn’t long before Emily began speaking to her, then Sylvia and Katherine; their voices rang in unison, haunting and beautiful. They told her one day her poetry would be written on the ghost of trees and whispered on the lips of lovers.

But it would come at a price.

There isn’t a thing I would not gladly give, she thought, to join my idols on those dusty shelves. To be immortal.

As if reading her mind, the voices of the dead poets cried out in alarm and warned her about the greatest heartache of all – how every stroke of pen thereafter would open the same wound over and over again.

What is the cause of such great heartache? She asked. They heard the keen anticipation in her voice and were sorry for her.

The greatest heartache comes from loving another soul, they said, beyond reason, beyond doubt, with no hope of salvation.

It was on her sixteenth birthday that she first fell in love. With a boy who brought her red roses and white lies. When he broke her heart, she cried for days.

Then she met you, and you brought her dandelions each day, so she would never want for wishes. She looked deep into your eyes and saw the very best of herself reflected back.

And she loved you, beyond reason, beyond doubt, and with no hope of salvation.
When she felt your love slipping away from her, she knelt at the altar, before all the great poets- and she begged. She no longer cared for poetry or immortality, she only wanted you.

But all the dead poets could do was look on, helpless and resigned while everything she had ever wished for came true in the cruelest possible way.

She learned too late that poets are among the damned, cursed to commiserate over their loss, to reach with outstretched hands – hands that will never know the weight of what they seek.

~Dead Poets by Lang Leav

I was talking with one of my best friends about heartache and misery. It might sound strange to you, but there is certain kind of miserable feelings that we missed now that we’re more grown up. That kind of misery when you fell in love with the wrong person, made a bad decision, being hurt, hurt the one you love… You know, things that stemmed from having too much drama in your life. I said half-jokingly that we should probably create more drama if we’re longing for such feelings again. But we agreed that it’s probably better if we don’t. After all, life moves on and we’ll have more things to feel miserable for in the future.

I still envy the poets and people who could put their feelings and thoughts into a string of words and knit them into a literary work. I still wish I could do that.



Love Locks Bridge Salzburg