This book was definitely not my cup of tea. I didn't care for the writing style, which was carefully, purposefully, inanely immature. Rowell also had an overabundance of eighties pop culture references, like she couldn't go five pages without reminding us that THIS IS SET IN THE EIGHTIES, GUYS.
But, perhaps most importantly, I just didn't care for Eleanor and Park's relationship. I couldn't empathize with it. I can't even fathom knowing someone for only a month or so and then declaring that you live for them, like Eleanor did Park, or that you love them, like Park did Eleanor. Maybe it's because I'm not hyper-romantic, but it's not a relationship dynamic that works for me. You don't go from barely talking to loving one another ten or twenty pages. That's just ridiculous.
I'm a bit bummed. I heard a lot of great things about this book, but it was just kind of boring to me. Even the parts that were supposed to add some depth to the characters--Eleanor's abusive stepfather, Park's racial insecurity and neglectful dad--just didn't do much for me. The home scenes felt a bit contrived, exactly like they were put there to make the plot a little more than awkward handholding and X-Men references.
If you like corny, sugar-sweet romances, however, this might be just your kind of book.