An uneven, anti-climactic but still thought-provoking read about teenage sexuality and friendship.

This is more like 3.5 stars for me, mostly for the ending, which just fizzled out, after a strong beginning, strong middle, even strong leading up to the end . . . but the end was a nope. Rounding up though, because I’m just magnamimous like that.

The Bermudez Triangle (I refuse to ackowledge its new title)  follows Nina, Avery, and Mel, who have been best friends since they were small children. In the summer before their senior year, Nina goes away to a college prep program in California, and Avery and Mel . . . fall in love. When she comes back home, all three have to navigate around the new dynamics in their relationships. Nina feels like an outsider. Avery and Mel struggle with coming out (or not coming out) as a couple in their high school. And while Mel has pretty much always known she was gay, Avery only becomes more and more confused as the book goes on.

I loved Mel. Loved her to bits. And although she frustrated me, I really liked reading about Avery’s struggles with her sexuality, trying to define who and what she was. The more confused she became, the more true to life it felt. Nina was interesting at first, and her struggle to fit herself back into the triangle of her previous friendship was pretty solid, but her romantic drama got more tiresome as the book went on. By the time the story was over, I didn’t care who she ended up with in the slightest. In fact, I don’t even remember how her story ended.

The ‘meh’ of Nina for me was only a small problem, and until I got to the ending, I was ready to give this a solid four stars. And then somehow, the book managed an ending that was both cliche and incredibly anti-climactic. Without spoiling anything, the ending resolved the action of the plot, but not the emotion. I felt almost no resolution at all upon finishing the book. I’m not sure exactly why I felt this way, and it’s not like the ending ruined what came before it, only undercut it and made it feel less important somehow. It’s like if you watched a magician do a pretty great magic show for forty-five minutes–cutting edge illusions, low-key setting–and when it came time for the last trick, supposedly the best trick, the magician pulls his hat off his head, pulls a rabbit out of the hat, and then just sort of wanders off. The rabbit hops around for a while and then disappears. All of that? And then *that*? What was the point?

Anyway, most of the book was really very good, and I shall try and remember it fondly.