This might be one of those books where five stars is a knee-jerk reaction and it really should be four, but I’m going to go with my heart and give it five because I really, truly loved some parts of it. I’ll be the first to admit that it was undoubtedly cheesy at times, but somehow I honestly didn’t care. I went into it with such low expectations that I think even pure, flaming garbage would’ve impressed me a bit, but this was a lot more interesting and twisty-turny than I hoped! I had no idea what to expect, so the wibbly-wibbly, timey-wimey stuff took me by surprise and honestly got me so riled.
First of all, the bad: Albus sucks. He was a truly unlikeable main character. Scorpius, however, was not. Secondly, some of the dialogue is cheesy. Majorly. Especially the “meaningful” moments between Dumbledore (or his portrait, at least) and Harry, as well as between Delphi and her … ahem … relative.
The good: This book made me like Harry. Yes, I love Harry Potter, but I’ve never actually liked Harry Potter. He’s always been a boring character for me, for the most part, but Cursed Child had me wanting to give him a big ol’ hug. In one especially heartbreaking scene, while Harry blames himself for all that’s happened to Albus and Scorpius, he says to Ginny, “How many people have to die for the Boy Who Lived?” It tore my heart out and made me take back every bad thing I’ve ever thought about him. My poor precious magical forty-year-old bean.
While some parts weren’t convincing, and while I do wish that the playwright had left more to the imagination rather than laying all of the characters’ feelings out in the open — I’m one of those people who likes subtlety, and the writer had very little, unlike Rowling — the book as a whole flowed really well and it was fast-paced and exciting. Overall, way better than I expected, and a lot better than all those liars saying it was a total dumpster fire.