I had to weigh in on this book when I saw that it had a 5-star rating because of one review. Here's a dissenting voice: I loathed it. Hated the experience of reading it, hated the characters, hated the writing style.
None of the characters are at all likeable. As soon as you begin to even consider liking one, you get to hear the person's thoughts or see some action that renders them vile. People here just sort of exist, just slide through life, without dreams or ambitions or desires. They take what is handed to them--friends they dislike, stagnant relationships--without liking these things, but without even considering the possibility of taking action to change them. As much as I hate perpetuating stereotypes, I'd have to say that all of the protagonists act and think like stereotypical bored teenagers. Of everyone mentioned in the book, I can only think of one peripheral character whom I liked even a little, and that only because she showed enthusiam occasionally--and in a pivotal scene, two of the book's main characters bonded over making fun of her.
The writing bored me, literally, to tears (which writing has the power to do when you absolutely have to read it for a class). I could not have cared less for her obsessive descriptions of rooms--attempts at characterization through listing, for pages and pages straight, each item lining the walls of someone's personal space. One such description went on for four entire pages. Pages simply listing objects in the room. Imagine an entire book filled with long, dry lists acting as descriptoins of mundane places inhabited by people you don't care about.
If this still seems like something you'd be interested in--well, get it out of the library anyway. It's not worth buying on spec; it's only worth buying if you already know you find something redeeming inside. This was one of the flat-out worst books I read on my way to my English degree, and I can comfortably say that I found nothing to redeem it.