I recently finished Jojo Moyes’ Me Before You trilogy.
I read the first book back in 2014. I tried to read the second soon after, but I never got past Lou’s recovery at her parents’ house. That was mostly because of how much I loved Lou and Will together. Losing him gutted me for years. Those kinds of losses are hard for me to wrap my head around. The whys circle endlessly. Why did she have to meet him? Why did she have to love him? And ultimately, why did he choose that after meeting her?
I related deeply to Lou’s character in the first book. She was going through the motions of her life, always feeling out of sorts, always a little misplaced. That was me back then. Honestly, that’s still me. I hadn’t worked through the pain when I tried to pick up book two.
Before I had children, I had a dog named Pumpkin. She was a Labrador mix and absolutely wonderful. After a couple of years, we had to give her up for adoption. I was completely shattered, but there was no other option. The night before taking her to the shelter, I slept with her on her giant dog bed and cried myself to sleep. The next day, I watched her walk down the corridor, turning back to look at me. My heart broke.
About a month later, I called to ask about her. I was told she had been euthanized because the shelter believed she had Stafford Terrier in her, and that was their policy. Those words gutted me. I could not understand. The whys surrounded me. It took years before I could talk about it without crying uncontrollably. Even now, more than twenty years later, tears come just typing this.
I hold on. I hold on to things. I hold on to love.
And that is why I love Moyes’ series.
I love what she does with Louisa. I love how Lou grows up right in front of us. Book two is not simply a continuation of book one, despite the title. It felt like a different book entirely, even though Lou remains at the center. There is a surprising twist that takes on a life of its own and introduces a whole new layer to the story. There are genuinely funny moments as Lou navigates her grief and slowly learns how to live again. I especially loved the community she finds through her grief support group.
Book three continues where book two leaves off. In fact, the second and third books could almost be read as one long story. The escalation of events is intense, entertaining, and at times overwhelming in the best way. At one point, I spoke out loud to Jojo Moyes, who was not in my house or my room, promising never to read another one of her books if the story went where I feared it was going. I cried. I laughed. I got so angry I was ready to throw the book across the room as the final chapters barreled toward Boxing Day.
It ended right.
And I was glad.
I have two more of her books waiting on my shelf, and for once, I am looking forward to opening them.
If this post spoke to you…
Share it with someone who might need it, too. Whether it’s a quiet encouragement or a new way of seeing things, these reflections are meant to be passed along.
|
Martina Griffin is a Catholic convert, writer, wife, and mother of four. She writes about faith, motherhood, beauty, books, and the quiet ache of transformation. A lover of popcorn, deep questions, and old classics, she shares her heart at Big Bowl of Popcorn—one post at a time. Instagram | Facebook | Email Me |
Don’t Miss a Post
Stories of faith, motherhood, and becoming—delivered straight to your inbox.
Leave a Reply