Let me start by saying this book is pure magic. From the moment I cracked open 'The Lost Bookshop,' I was transported into a world where books whisper secrets and forgotten shops hold life-changing stories. The dual timelines—1920s Opaline and present-day Martha/Henry—are woven together so skillfully, it's like watching a literary tapestry come alive.

The good? Oh, where do I begin! The way Evie Woods writes about books makes you want to smell the pages (yes, I actually sniffed my paperback while reading). That scene where Martha first enters the mysterious bookshop? Chills. And Opaline's struggle for independence—while occasionally heavy-handed—has moments of raw authenticity, like her visceral reaction to pregnancy that had me highlighting entire paragraphs.

Now for the reality check: The ending does feel like someone hit fast-forward. After 300+ pages of exquisite buildup, the resolution comes at you like a speed-reading champion. And Opaline? Lovely character, but her 'I'm not like other girls' vibe gets repetitive faster than a bookstore espresso machine during NaNoWriMo season.

Here's when this book shines brightest: rainy afternoons when you're craving escapism, or when you need reminding why you fell in love with reading. That moment when Henry discovers the truth about 'A Place Called Lost'? I may have gasped aloud on my commute (earning weird subway stares).

The verdict? Despite its rushed finale and occasional tropes, this is that rare book you'll press into friends' hands saying 'You HAVE to read this.' Just be warned—you'll emerge desperate to hunt down your own magical bookshop... and maybe side-eye ordinary libraries forever after.