The Shadow of the Wind, by Carlos Luis Zafon

This book was a little too melodramatic for me. I was initially charmed by the setting, and was prepared to wander down the alleys and sit in the cafes of Barcelona along with the protagonist. But then there was the part about him falling in love with the truly awful-sounding novel. And maybe adolescent boys in Spain, during Franco's rule, were very different from adolescent boys in the United States, in the 21st century, but this kid seemed way too self-possessed and self-reflective to be true. I was completely on board for the more fantastical magical stuff, but honestly there was very little else that seemed remotely plausible. A quarter of the way into it, I was wondering how soon I'd be done. So I stopped.