I devoured *The Lost Bookshop* in just two rainy afternoons—curled up with tea, completely forgetting the world outside. The way the three storylines (Opaline’s 1920s defiance, Martha’s modern-day bookish loneliness, and Henry’s academic obsession) tangled together felt like watching constellations form. That moment when Martha hears a book *whispering* to her? Goosebumps.

But let’s be real: Opaline frustrated me. Yes, her pregnancy realization scene was raw and stunning ("joy like sunlight, then shadows of doubt"), but her 'rebel without nuance' vibe got old fast. Still, when her plot collided with Henry’s research in Chapter 22? Chef’s kiss.

The magic system—books that vanish/reappear, margins scribbling new clues—made my inner bibliophile squeal. Though that 1928 Lawrence book appearing in 1922? Oops. My highlight: the dusty shop’s scent practically wafted off the page (‘vanilla spines and rebellion,’ as Martha says). Perfect for readers who want Narnia meets *Midnight Library*, with less existential dread.