Some reviewers are comparing it to the style of We Were Liars, which I can definitely see:
But, the problem is that I love poetic prose to a certain extent, though not when I feel the metaphors and language aim to cover up a case of not much happening. My first thoughts were positive and something along the lines of: I am going to love this. In Wink Poppy Midnight, the writing is the novel's strongest point, offering up a weird mystery in a style that feels as whimsical and enticing as magical realism. At one point, I thought I was getting it, but then… huh? There would be wolves and tricks and lies and cunning and vengeance in our story.
"We were like the three Fates, weaving the story together, threads of gold, red, and midnight blue.
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