BOOK REVIEW: Deja Who, by MaryJanice Davidson

There’s something about Deja Who that I could easily connect to watching a four-car pile-up; you know you should stop watching (or in this case reading) but you just can’t turn away. Now I’m going to preface this review with a disclaimer: I used to love MaryJanice Davidson. In the beginning, I loved Betsy and, despite what some reviewers say about Fred being a carbon copy of Betsy, I loved Fred.

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