When I started this book, I thought it was hilarious. It was hilarious, the whole way through. Alcatraz is so unpredictable and serious in his humor, and I loved it. But what I did not expect at all was to be crying a fourth of the way through the book... and half of the way... and three quarters... you get the picture. As much fun as Alcatraz pokes at "important" and "meaningful" books, this one is actually quite meaningful itself. Sure, there's the whole thing about magical sand and nonsensical powers and a librarian cult that runs the world, but there's also a foster boy struggling with abandonment, coming to terms with himself and what he really feels about the people he loves... and the people he never got a chance to love. It felt like a triumph just reading it.