I finally got around to reading this, after having loved Divergent so very much. I'm like that with series, though. If the books were all there to be read immediately after finishing the first, I would read them, immediately. But after a year, I'm just not that eager, anymore. Which is a shame, because really, reading a second book years after the first one means that I've forgotten a lot, and I can't remember what it was that I loved so much.
And maybe that's what happened here. I didn't love Insurgent. I liked it. It was fun. It was fast-paced, I was interested, I was curious, but I wasn't invested. I wasn't worried about the state of the relationship between Tris and Four, though clearly, I was supposed to be. I didn't care enough about the characters who were in danger, even the ones who died, for it to hit me in the gut. I was missing that heart-pounding sense of urgency that has the pages flying. I feel like this was a book I was meant to read in one sitting, or to only very reluctantly put down when the real world called, but I spread it out over a few days, and I wasn't thinking about it when I wasn't reading it.
I think I'll be reading Allegiant, when it comes out, because I'm curious about what'll happen in relation to the Big Reveal at the end of Insurgent. But I'm not on tenterhooks, you know? And I wish I were.