Cecelia Ahern's PS, I Love You

So I started reading Cecelia Ahern's PS, I Love You and I learned that it's one of those books you kinda have to read alone cos I found it to be sad. I don't know if it's cos of hormones or the author's better at tugging the heartstrings than I thought. (Which is why I could never buy chick lit for myself; the exception being the Bridget Jones books).

It's basically about a young woman who had lost her husband to cancer and how she copes when she gets letters from him after his death.

Found myself shedding tears as I read it whenever the dead husband is mentioned, which was plenty, which didn't help my coughing fit in anyway. Kanasai.

Then I thought about the movie and thought that it was bloody convenient that they got Gerry Butler to play the dead husband Gerry (shit you not - I'm gonna guess it's why he got the gig) and glad that I didn't stoop to watch it first before reading the book, even if it WAS Gerry Butler playing a dead guy. The movie was pretty Americanised and not sad to hear that it bombed. Hey, Hilary Swank needs a bombed movie or two, okay?

All in all, it's one of those books I could never bring myself to read again anytime soon.