Girl Detective

Toys and books go in and out of favor without notice. Its hard to pick what is going to be a good inducement for 3yo Drake to go up for “nap” time, get his diaper changed, put on clothes, leave the house, or any number of other things that seem pretty basic, yet require lengthy negotiations. I was fairly sure that Mercy Watson Fights Crime, the third book in Kate DiCamillo’s easy reader Mercy Watson series, would be a hit. I was right. It is Drake’s new favorite book, supplanting Dooby Dooby Moo.

Mercy is the pet pig of Mr. and Mrs. Watson. She is very fond of toast with a great deal of butter. One night, she hears the sound of the toaster sliding across the counter. She goes into the kitchen to find out who’s making toast, only to discover a burglar. All the characters from the previous books appear. As usual, Mercy is in good favor at the end with everyone but her neighbor Eugenia, and everyone enjoys Mrs. Watson’s toast. Chris Van Dusen’s retro illustrations perfectly capture the simplicity of the stories, and contribute in no small way to how funny they are, and how endearing Mercy is, even though Eugenia is right–nothing with this pig is as it seems. In this series, DiCamillo has set aside her penchant for the sad and difficult. This book, like its predecessors, is a sweet, silly romp that’s fun to read aloud.

Dooby Dooby Moo is the latest entry in the Click Clack Moo books. Spurred by instigator Duck, the animals enter a talent contest at the fair. Farmer Brown knows something is going on, but he doesn’t figure it out until too late. As always, the humor is sweet, there’s good repetition for the read aloud, and Betsy Lewin’s illustrations are charming and funny. My 3yo Drake loves it, especially the singing phrases of the animals, which include Dooby Dooby Moo, and which we’ve heard many times over the monitor as he “reads” to himself in his room. Less successful are the footnotes in small type. They seem meant to be funny, yet I didn’t find them amusing. They only distracted me from the story, which I found rather slight. Dooby Dooby Moo is good, but my favorites remain Click Clack Moo: Cows That Type and Duck for President.

In which Angela and Vincent are brought back from elimination to make everyone else more anxious. I thought the producers might do something like this, but I talked about it with the group I watch with, I didn’t write about it here. So you can mock me mercilessly and not believe, but I won’t pretend I came up with the idea myself–I loved and remembered it from when The Morning News did it during their Tournament of Books.

The results of PR3’s Zombie Round paralleled that of The Morning News: the former losers were still eliminated. I was surprised that Angela and Vincent didn’t try harder. Both their outfits were not near their best. It’s the people who listen to both Tim Gunn and the judges who do well. Tim told Michael his dress was see through, then Michael used his extra fabric to line the dress. Good listening, Michael! (Can you tell what stage of toddler development we’re in at our house?)

Laura spent the episode exhausted and in tears. She realized, and was worried by, her lack of a previous win. I know many viewers think she’s heartless, but I suspect, as with Jeffrey, that a lot of her surface brashness is just that: surface. Her comment from a few weeks ago, when she admitted she was pregnant again and said she’d just throw the kid on the pile, sounded more like an attempt to cover trepidation with humor than true indifference. Her comments to Angela belittling the win that enabled her to return were tough, but fair. Angela’s win was a team effort. Laura was part of that team, and the final outfit had more of Laura’s aesthetic than Angela’s, as did the Angela’s Audrey Hepburn dress the following week. Angela was at her best when she designed like Laura.

While I agree that Laura’s dress was the best of the bunch, I’m not sure I agreed with the judge’s comments that it was MUCH younger than what she normally did, or that it wasn’t designed for her. That dress, with its empire waist, would have made a stunning maternity dress if she’d put a little give in the belly. Michael’s was elegant and a departure from his usual hip-hop twist, but what was with his model? She looked ready to fall over. Jeffrey and Uli were chastised for doing their same things. And Kayne, poor Kayne, who tried to do something classier, listened to the good advice of Michael, but couldn’t get far enough away from his penchant for glitz and drama. He was a good sport, though, as he was during the recycling challenge. He knew he’d misstepped, and he admitted it. I admire that openness and honesty, even while I agree it was time for him to go. Kayne, goodbye and good luck.

There are four designers left, and I think it’s become a battle for who will be second to Michael. Last week, I felt certain that Laura would be the next eliminated after Kayne; now I think it could be Uli, or even Jeffrey. But I’m going to predict Uli. She is either not listening to the judges, or not able to deviate from her flowing patterned styles. Both Laura and Jeffrey seem more able to adapt to the judges’ advice to do something different.

Check out the kind folks at Blogging Project Runway, who have lots of fun things to read about the episode.

#55 in my book challenge for the year is The Film Snob’s Dictionary by David Kamp and Lawrence Levi. A slim volume packed with definitions of key phrases, films, and people beloved by so-called Film Snobs. The book not-so-gently mocks Film Snobs, and takes pleasure in knocking down some of their sacred cows. It’s a weird conceit, since it’s not a compendium of actual good things, but rather things that some people think are good and that authors sometimes agree with, or sometimes not. For example, there is no Truffaut entry but there is one for Office Space, a film that only snobs “get”. While of dubious utility unless you’re soon to be attending a gathering of Film Snobs, it is clever, entertaining and informative. Its short entries make it an idea bathroom book.

#48 in my movie challenge for the year was our first family movie, Cars. All four of us went! Drake sat on G. Grod’s lap, and I had baby Guppy in the sling, where he mostly slept. Drake was attentive for the first hour, and rather wiggly but OK for the second. Cars was a long movie to pick as his first theater experience, but he did great. He mentioned popcorn several times the next day, and his Lightning McQueen and Sally cereal-box cars have been favorites ever since. I really enjoyed the movie as well. The animation was well done and I liked how the characters looked like the actors who voiced them. I thought it was a sweet story that wasn’t saccharine, and I only wish Owen Wilson could find a live action movie role so good.

If you missed season one of Bones, don’t fret. Most of the stuff from the season two premiere about her family happened in the season one finale, which is recapped here.

Just to be clear. Bones is a good show. By that I mean that if I have to get up to go to the bathroom, I pause the Tivo. I am somewhat bummed if I miss an episode. But I get over it quickly. House, on the other hand, I like a lot. Hugh Laurie is just dandy as the cranky diagnostician. I know lots of people love Grey’s Anatomy, but I only have room in my life for one medical diagnostic show.

I did my annual haunting of Target and Barnes and Noble until the Entertainment Weekly Fall TV issue came out. I read it cover to cover in 24 hours, but am only planning on watching one new show, Aaron Sorkin’s Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. Nothing else stands out for me this season.

In our house, we’ll be setting our Tivo thusly for the major networks this fall: Monday, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip; Tuesday: Bones; Wednesday, House and Veronica Mars; Thursday, My Name is Earl and The Office.

I did not think I would sign Drake up for preschool this fall. He just turned three a few weeks ago, and has regressed from any small progress using the toilet. I’ll deal with it in a few months, I thought, or next year. But then not one but two experienced moms waved their hands at my concerns, so I looked into it and was amazingly not penalized for my procrastination and able to sign him up for a program close by.

All weekend we talked about Drake starting school. This morning, as I struggled to get Drake, Guppy and me out the door, Drake was quick to do several things he usually balks at or refuses altogether: turning off the stereo, leaving behind his balloon, putting on a jacket, going out the door, getting in the car, and giving me back my (locked) cell phone. We arrived and met the teacher, who got out a bucket of trucks. Drake didn’t look up when I said goodbye, which I did twice.

When I picked him up, he was happily finishing his snack, and threw away his cup at the teacher’s request. He ran to give me a big hug, then we went home, where I marvelled that perhaps he was far more ready to start preschool than I’d thought.

Then he refused a diaper change, picked at his lunch, spilled his milk all over the kitchen (and Guppy), and is currently not napping, as is usual these last weeks. So things are back to normal. But the morning preschool was a success, so I’ll see how things go next time and beyond.

Twice, I have noticed Ugly Dolls–simply shaped, large-eyed, not-very-plush stuffed toys that come in various bruise-reminiscent colors–at friends’ houses. Both moms said the Ugly Dolls were gifts, and that the toddler recipient was largely immune to their charms. That has also been the case in our house. Our Ugly Doll(s), Bop ‘n’ Beep, gets more attention from me than from Drake. I think the doll is adorable in a jolie/laide kinda way. Drake, though, goes for the more traditional friends, like this giraffe, who was a gift for baby Guppy. My husband G. Grod surmises that the attraction of Ugly Dolls for adults is in their irony and backward cuteness, while toddlers don’t yet have the context to “get” them. I’ll be interested to see if the toddlers gain an appreciation for the Uglies when they’re older. Until then, though, I’ll take the advice of one of my friends: who needs to spend upwards of $13 at Paranoid Parent for a toddler crib pillow when we already have an Ugly Doll?

Three-year-old Drake has a habit of stating a question that he wants us to ask him. I went to get him up the other morning, and he said, “Is my nose itchy, Mom?”

“I don’t know, is your nose itchy, Drake?”

Sigh. “Yeah.”

Or he’ll ask a question that is more of a statement. “Mom, do you need a truck sticker?”

Apparently, that means that I do. I went out the other night, and returned home only to find I’d been out in public with a mass excavator sticker on my back.

He also is very clear sometimes about what kind of attention he wants.

“Mom, will you talk to me about playing with the cars?”

Or he’ll invoke a third party in one of his loveys.

“Mom, will you talk to Daisy about the trucks?”

He’s also getting very direct and demanding. I went into his room to get him up the other morning, and he greeted me with, “Don’t talk to me, Mom! Go back in the hall! Don’t come in my room!”

I covered my mouth to stifle a grin, as well as signal that I wasn’t talking, then backed slowly out of his room.

His capacity for imagination is growing, too. He takes his Ikea plush snake and spreads it out on the couch, and says it’s a car, then sits with his other loveys, asks me to get in the car, and says we’re going to their house, where there’s a pond for the fish and the ducks, and a meadow for his sheep. He says they’re going to play with cars there–do you see a theme, here?

And even though my husband G. Grod doesn’t carry a briefcase, Drake picked up his truck box the other day, clutched it in his fist and announced that he was going to work. I asked him how he was getting there.

“The friends’ car,” he announced matter-of-factly, and with a certain weariness, as if I were stupid for not knowing something so obvious.

#54 in my book challenge for the year is a re-read of one of my favorites from last year, Bangkok 8, in preparation for the sequel, Bangkok Tattoo. I have the mistaken impression that re-reading will help me slow down and savor books. Knowing the ending helps me recognize all the clues are in place, but I think it also abets me in going through a book faster, since I don’t pause to puzzle things out. It’s a Buddhist noir murder mystery about a Thai policeman out to avenge his partner’s death. The atmosphere and sense of place are stunningly well drawn, while the asides about Buddhist practice and Thai culture are fascinating and mind-opening. I’m sure some could argue convincingly that the author goes light on the sex trade and its implications for women. My guilt over enjoying it in spite of its unPCness may lead me to track down a book on prostitution in Asia, Casting Stones.

The weird thing that bothered me about this book was the page numbers. Not only are they in a barely legible font, they’re at the top only on odd pages that don’t start a chapter. I would much prefer to have legible page numbers in the bottom margin on every page.

Another weird thing is that Drake loves to pull this book off the shelf. I don’t know if it’s the bright pink cover, or the snake, or the big number 8, but he goes after this book all the time.

#47 in my movie challenge for the year was the darkly funny Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Robert Downey, Jr. is excellent as a thief who is mistakenly whisked to Hollywood, where he gets tangled up in noirish murder and mayhem. Joining him are his childhood sweetheart (played by Michelle Monaghan. Suggestion: cast an acress Downey’s age, rather than ELEVEN YEARS his junior. Just sayin’.) and his gay agent, played by Val Kilmer. The dialogue is superfast and hilarious. The movie is full of clever asides, and deprecating, self-referential voiceovers. It’s good, not-so-clean fun.

#53 in my book challenge for the year was The Explosive Child, which our pediatrician recommended at Drake’s 3-year checkup after observing his interactions with us, and noting he had an “oppositional” personality. I like our doc; his approach is very factual and scientific. He’s definitely old school, though, so I take his advice with that in mind. From other parents and my own observation, most three year olds are oppositional, with low flexibility and frustration points. They’re testing boundaries, and learning how to share and compromise. I think the book is directed at parents of older children who still exhibit the type of tantrums more typical at three. As the doc warned, the parent and child examples in the book are extreme. Nonetheless, I found the book useful for its advice and reminders. One of its themes is that children do well if they can, so if they’re not doing well, it’s likely a lack of ability to handle frustration, not an unwillingness to behave. That’s why sticker charts and timeouts are not universal solutions. It also broke down parent/child negotiations into three types: parent enforces will, parent and child collaborate on problem solving, parent decides not to pursue issue. The case studies were a good reminder that many blowups happen when both parent and child are being inflexible, or when a parent is rushing a child through a transition faster than the child can adapt. The book’s focus is for parents to learn, and teach their children, collaborative problem solving. This requires both parties to bring a concern to the discussion. While I can certainly lay the groundwork for this, getting my 3yo to articulate his concern is far beyond where we are right now, which is largely just “No” on his part. The book was quick to read, and it made some good points that I still recall a week later, so it was worth the investment in time, even if it’s not exactly suited to where our family is right now.

Our viewing group was unanimous: we were thrilled to see the delusional Vincent go. We cringed when he fawned over Catherine Malandrino. We flinched when he cursed at Jeffrey, who (for a change) wasn’t even doing anything obnoxious. We groaned when he said his design “made him hot,” and averted our eyes at the sight of him in a tank top. Laura had it right when she said he was obsessed with his pattern, and professed to want feedback, but really wanted compliments. None were forthcoming, though. Tim Gunn scolded him for his wanton use of glue. Malandrino’s response was merely “No” over and over. Michael Kors snorted that his model was effectively topless. Richard Tyler was horrified by the floral “thing” on the back of the dress. (Then again, wasn’t he the designer of one of those dreadful suits Diane Keaton wore to an awards show within the past few years?) Laura was called to task for her plain dress; it looked old and done. Kayne was taken to task for his over-the-top top. Michael was taken to task for his weird bodice details. And Uli didn’t win because while hers was good, Jeffrey’s was great. He did something bright, fun and daring. Uli’s was none of these things. Manolo the Shoe Blogger astutely notes that several of the designers design for themselves and fit it for the models.

I predict that Kayne will be next out, and Laura after him. Their designs are getting worse, while Jeffrey’s are getting sharper. I think Michael is a shoo-in to win, and that Uli and Jeffrey will join him for the final three.

Guilty Pleasures:

The Superficial
Go Fug Yourself

Guiltier Pleasures:

Perez Hilton
D Listed

If I don’t lay off the celeb gossip soon, my head may explode. Then I really wouldn’t get anything done.

Did you notice? President Bush’s summer reading list contained almost no books by, or about, women. By contrast, my summer reading list had 18 books by women and 10 by men. The books were about boys, girls, men, women, a baby, a pseudo-hermaphrodite, plus a china bunny, more than one mouse, a dog, and a tiger. Unlike me, he read non-fiction. I finished 28 books, one more than he did, though my list was about 3/4 young adult titles, so my books were likely shorter than his.

Once, I noted how fun and smiley a friend’s six-month-old baby was. My friend said her mother warned her that six months is a dangerous time. Most six-month babies are cute and interactive, they don’t cry or spit up as much, and they usually stay where you put them. They sleep longer at night, so the crazed feeling of sleep deprivation and any miseries of colic have usually passed. My friend’s mom noted that it’s at this point that a couple with their first child often feels like they’re getting it. They’re loving parenthood, and it feels a good time to try for another kid. Don’t be fooled, though, the mom cautioned. Six months is the calm before the storm: crawling, teething, stinkier diapers, and the need for discipline are just around the corner, and you don’t want to go into that with first trimester fatigue and nausea.

I don’t recall what the mom advised as a better time to try to get pregnant again, but I have never forgotten her practical advice. I think of it lately, since my husband G. Grod and I are very much enjoying baby Guppy, nearly seven months old. He smiles, he laughs, he gurgles, he coos, he rolls, but he’s not quite crawling yet. We have no plans to further expand our family, but if we were on the fence, I can see how Guppy’s current beguiling ways could push us over to the other side. I’m going to enjoy this time while it’s here, and miss it when it’s gone.

As usual, one trip to the Minnesota State Fair wasn’t enough for me. My second trip was with a friend, and without kids. I was positively giddy with freedom. We visited the craft barn to see the baking, knitting and quilts; the fine arts building to see the painting, photography, and children’s book art from the Kerlan Collection; and the agriculture building to see the orchid displays. Everything was fun to see, but perhaps nothing more than the freakish whimsy of the Sock Monkey dresses, 1 and 2.

I was pleasantly reminded that the fair is not _just_ about food. Even though we live in the city, I’m suburban in my food focus at the fair, according to this article on Slate. My friend introduced me to a new favorite: corn fritters with honey butter (outside the Food Building). I also had lemonade, fried cheese curds, Thai sausage on a stick in puff pastry, 1919 root beer, a frozen mocha on a stick, mini cinnamon rolls, and mini donuts. Going once with the family and once with a friend felt like just enough State Fair time. As with blush, I suspect “just enough” is probably the perfect amount.

At the start of the year, I gave myself a book challenge–at least 50 books, with most of them from the backlog at home, instead of new purchases or library whims. At the start of the summer, I gave myself a challenge within a challenge, since I thrive so well on these arbitrary goals. I joined the forum at Amanda’s Weekly Zen, though I was too late to join the official group on her site, fantasized about a big goal, then whittled that down to a more realistic one that centered on young adult novels, and I started to read.

Between June 1 and August 31, I read 28 books. I read the twenty books on my original list, plus eight extra. I learned a few things from this summer challenge. If I set a reasonable goal, I can stick to it and keep focused. Without it, I would have gone down different reading paths. That wouldn’t have been bad, but it wouldn’t have contributed to my dual hopes of reading some of my home library and reading a lot of YA. In the end, I read twenty children’s/YA novels, and eight adult novels. I found that good children’s and YA books differ mainly from their adult counterparts in length and vocabulary. Bad YA is poorly written, or plotted, or has a contrived or unearned ending. There’s a publishing boom in YA right now, and I think the prevalence of trashy, poorly written,or even just slightly sloppy, books contributes to the incorrect perception of YA as an inferior subcategory of novels. I also learned that while it’s fun and interesting to join in different online book discussions, it takes up time and diverts me from my goal of reading more of the unread books gathering dust on my shelves.

Post summer, I’m going to cut back on the YA, and I’m going to re-commit to reading things already on my shelf. I’m also going on some of the reading tangents I wanted to this summer, like Jane Eyre-related books. At bat: re-reading Bangkok 8 by John Burdett. On deck: Bangkok Tattoo, the sequel. In the hole: Persuasion by Jane Austen. Pinch hitter: The Last of Her Kind by Sigrid Nunez.

Here is the Summer 2006 list. All have reviews listed in the 2006 Book Challenge link at right. I have starred my favorites. The two I disliked most were The Finishing School and The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

*King Dork by Frank Portman
Sense and Sensibility by Austen
Catcher in the Rye by Salinger
Scott Pilgrim, Vols. 1-3 by Bryan O’Malley
The Abbess of Crewe, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, and The Finishing School by Muriel Sparks
*The Prop by Pete Hautman
I Am the Cheese, and We All Fall Down by Robert Cormier
Tam Lin by Pamela Dean
*Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Because of Winn Dixie, *The Tiger Rising, The Tale of Despereaux, and The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo
*Magic or Madness, and Magic Lessons by Justine Larbalestier
Baby by Patricia Maclachlan
*Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
Intuition by Allegra Goodman
Monkey Island by Paula Fox
The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Steven Chbosky
Satellite Down by Rob Thomas
Sloppy Firsts, and Second Helpings by Megan McCafferty

#52 in my book challenge for the year, and #28, the final book of my summer reading challenge, was The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Twin Cities author Kate DiCamillo. I re-read her first three novels earlier in the summer. I am pleased to have read them in order, because I see a clear progression in her work, from the bittersweet, rather slight story of a girl and her dog in Because of Winn Dixie, to the concentrated sadness tinged with darkness of The Tiger Rising, to The Tale of Despereaux, which was longer, and true to fables in its darkness and its addresses to the reader. Despereaux had several complicated characters who were neither entirely good nor bad. It went beyond sadness to show aspects of evil. The story did not end happily ever after. But it did end much more happily than it began, and with growth and increased self-knowledge for most of the characters.

Edward Tulane is DiCamillo’s saddest, darkest book yet. Like all her books, the writing is lyrical and the ending redemptive. Edward is a china rabbit and the favorite plaything of his owner. Proud and vain, he has no idea of his good circumstances until he loses them, when he goes overboard into the sea. Edward’s fortunes rise and fall, and he is found by a series of people who give him different names, and from whom he learns different lessons. The circumstances of some of his owners are terribly sad, and even worse are some of the things done to them by others. Yet what sustained me as a reader, and Edward, through the story was hope. And both Edward and I were rewarded in the end.

I admire that with each book, DiCamillo is stretching. In Edward, she created a non-sympathetic main character, who is transformed through adversity. Just as Desperaux could be read as both a story and a fable, Edward Tulane is both a story and an allegory with religious undertones. Edward’s tale is marvelously complemented by Bagram Ibatoulline’s detailed paintings and pencils; they set a tone of depressed realism different from the calculated make-believe of Desperaux. Edward Tulane is not a story for the very young, or for someone looking for a light read. It is a book that respects its readers by showing a range of human behavior and experience. Like some of the other well-written books for children I read this past summer (like I am the Cheese and We All Fall Down by Robert Cormier, Baby by Patricia MacLachlan, and Monkey Island by Paula Fox), Edward Tulane does not pretend the world is happier or less challenging than it is. But it reminds readers that happiness and meaning often are learned, not given.

Interestingly, DiCamillo has also recently written chapter books about a pig named Mercy Watson. Mercy Watson to the Rescue and Mercy Watson Goes for a Ride are easy readers that are funny, and decidedly silly. My three-year-old son Drake loves them, and we’ve read them many times. I wonder if perhaps the humor of the Mercy Watson books helped DiCamillo to counter some of the darkness required in the writing of Edward Tulane. So if a tale of suffering redeemed doesn’t sound quite right at the moment (or ever), check out the Mercy Watson books for an entirely different reading experience.

#s 50 and 51 (woo hoo! I hit my goal of 50 books) in my reading challenge for the year, and #s 26 and 27 in my summer book challenge (so I read more than half my books for the year this summer), were Megan McCafferty’s first two Jessica Darling novels, Sloppy Firsts and Second Helpings. McCafferty is most notorious lately because several sections of these books were plagiarized by Kaavya Viswanathan. I have decidedly mixed feelings about these books. Some parts I love. But other parts nagged at me, and made me feel guilty for tearing through the books at a breakneck pace, and putting off other things. (”Mom, play with cars with me.” “In a minute, honey.”)

Jessica is a smart high school girl who is devastated when her best friend moves away. In Sloppy Firsts, she tries to come to terms with this, as well as with her growing crush on bad boy Marcus Flutie. She also navigates the typical American high school obstacles like nagging parents, friends who aren’t friends, and a demeaning summer job. Second Helpings continues the story, picking up the relationship between Jessica and Marcus that ended so abruptly in the first book, and continuing the story through high school graduation.

What doesn’t work: While the first book has a satifying story arc for Jessica and her absent friend Hope, it leaves the reader completely hanging about Marcus. This is not an ending, but an open door for the sequel. The second book is not plotted as tightly as the first. Her sister coming home for her pregnancy was not explained and seemed to be a plot device, as was the commitment of her grandmother to a retirement home, which was stereotypically full of sassy, smart seniors. Jessica and Marcus, over the course of the two books, follow a predictable relationship arc: good girl and bad, experienced, older boy meet cute, tension builds, they fight about something stupid, the separation is drawn out because of misunderstanding, and they get together in the end. And while these books are shelved with adult books in a bookstore even though they are young adult novels, when Jessica finally does have sex with Marcus, the details are coyly omitted, though there has been frank talk about the sex life of others throughout both books. The device of writing monthly letters to her friend wears thin over the two books. I, like her friends in the book, just wanted her to get over Hope’s departure and move on.

What works: Jessica’s voice is strong, smart, and funny. The romance between her and Marcus may be cliche, but I liked it anyway and was glad to see them get together. Jessica grows and changes over the course of the book, most notably in relation to her parents and to some friends at school. The inclusion of a brother who died of SIDS provided good grounding for the characters. These were believeable and complex characterizations and didn’t feel gratuitous. Her acerbic observations are dead on, whether she’s analyzing herself or others, especially at a summer program for “gifted” students. Her resurrected friendship with a childhood friend, her changed friendship with a footballer, and her encounters with her crush Paul are all funny, touching, and real. There is a great deal of sharp social commentary as well on high school life.

In the end, they felt more like guilty pleasures than substantive reads. I will read the third book, but I’ll get it from the library first.