Book Chick

 Last night, my daughter was practicing some skills she’s been learning in kindergarten: same and different, sorting, patterns. She held up two dolls and said, “Mommy, what’s different about these two girls?” just like she was a little teacher. I glanced over from where I’d been sitting next to her, reading The Help and noticed she was holding up a Caucasian doll and an African-American doll. Here we go , I thought, our first discussion about race relations . “Well, they have on different colored shirts,” I noted. “What do you see that’s different?” “Very good, Mommy,” pronounced my little instructor. “What’s different is, one girl has ponies in her hair and the other has a barrette.” I simply looked at her for a moment, stunned and proud. “But they’re both little girls, right?” I asked. “Yes, that’s why they’re the same.” Growing up in the south, race is something that has always been a sensitive subject for me. Fortunately, my mom felt very strongly that her chi...

While I am completely in favor of a good read-for-pleasure-not-for-thought-provocation novel, Beth Harbison’s book was more along the lines of a get-sucked-into-the-abyss-of-high-school-ridiculousness read. While I enjoyed the narrative trips back in time, the plot remained painfully predictable, while at once seeming to tackle issues a little too lofty for its capricious tone. The characters were so underdeveloped that they were unlikeable. I found myself not really caring if the heroine succeeded in her love quest since I knew little more about her than the flashbacks of a bossy and materialistic adolescent. Worse than a trip down memory lane, this book absorbed all of the absurdity of the teenage years (and the adults who are stuck there) and none of the joys. Book Chick Rating: Y Y