Review of Start a Fire. Runda druga (Hell, #2) by Pizgacz
I dove into Start a Fire. Runda druga with a spark of curiosity, hoping for a compelling continuation of what was, in my opinion, a rather chaotic first installment. Having read the first book, I found myself wrestling with the decision to press on—was it really fair to my nerves and precious time? Yet here I am, reflecting on my journey through the story of Victoria Clark, an experience that has illuminated just how complex (and often frustrating) her character is.
From the outset, Pizgacz’s writing felt disjointed, which made it challenging to engage with Victoria. The protagonist’s character seems to oscillate wildly from one chapter to the next, leaving readers unsure of her true motivations. I found myself asking, who is Victoria? One moment she exudes arrogance; the next, she claims to be sensitive and altruistic. This inconsistent portrayal detracted from my ability to connect with her, especially amidst the heavy themes of toxic relationships explored throughout the book.
The plot itself picks up speed compared to its predecessor, introducing rebellious moments and emotional knots that you expect from a story delving into complex relationships. However, much like the first installment, the writing struggled under its own ambition. There’s a telling vs. showing issue that crops up repeatedly, reminiscent of a cliché teen drama where critical elements are over-explained rather than unfolded organically. One particular annoyance was the incessant mention of Nathaniel Szej’s “dark eyes”—62 occurrences, to be exact! It feels excessive and becomes a running gag rather than an assistive detail, blurring the line between atmosphere and redundancy.
On the note of relationships, while Pizgacz tries to capture the nuances of Victoria’s toxic connection with Nathaniel, I found myself faced with frequent moments of incredulity rather than empathy. Victoria’s friends Mia and Chris exhibited almost mechanical support, which felt unconvincing given the serious nature of her situation. The struggles surrounding toxic relationships demand depth and authenticity, yet their portrayal felt watered down, lacking the gravity the topic deserves.
Despite this, there were fleeting moments of strength in the narrative, especially concerning the glimpses into the past of Victoria’s brother, Theo—a plotline that momentarily resonated with me. These moments hint at the potential the book could have unlocked, and ultimately led me to feel that it could have been more than what it presented.
While I wouldn’t readily recommend Start a Fire. Runda druga to everyone, I can see how it may appeal to fans craving drama-laden narratives with complex relational dynamics. If you enjoy characters that challenge your patience and plots that lead to a jumble of emotions, then this could be a read for you. As for me, the experience was a rollercoaster, punctuated by moments of hope and frustration, but ultimately reaffirmed my recognition of the power of cohesive storytelling.
In conclusion, the experience of reading Pizgacz’s work both intrigued and challenged me, capturing the tumultuous path of not just Victoria but of relationships themselves—a reminder that while we may not always find what we seek in a story, the journey itself can be just as telling.
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