This is a book about a suicidal quadriplegic whose parents hire a girl to come hang out with him and keep an eye on him and put up with his being a cranky jackass.
And it's much less maudlin than it would be if it were that Lifetime Movie, and once they get over hating each other, they do have some pretty great faux-hate banter, and Louisa does some condescending and boneheaded things with excellent intentions, and Will is like omg srsly, which is what I imagine people with disabilities are constantly thinking about other people's misguided attempts at helping, so THAT part is insightful.
And even though I saw the end coming, I felt all the feelings ANYway, and without the sense that some puppetmaster was lurking in the back, ham-fistedly tugging on my heartstrings (The Art of Racing in the Rain, I am talking to YOU).
You can't just keep killing dogs and expecting me to cry, Books.
This one is perfectly good, like the internet says. I find I have so little to say about books that are basically great. Eight and a half caterpillars, then.