Forgotten in the recesses of the computer was a review of a book I bought back in August, when I went to hear the author talk about it, get it signed, and not so incidentally run into Missy Peregrym from Rookie Blue, one of my bucket list actresses. . . but let’s not get started on that; this is about the book, plus I already wrote about the joy of meeting her.
Caprice Crane’s previous four books have been what you might call modern day romantic comedy, which as a guy I don’t particularly mind because it’s heavy on the comedy. Sure, they always end up together on the last page, but getting there is the fun. In her first book the characters hated each other and then fell in love. . . of course. In the second, still my fave, she had to decide between two guys, an easy choice once she got her memory back. . . and doesn’t that note entice you to wanna read it? The third was about a couple falling in love again—the guy’s fault, of course—and the last was. . . well, all about luck.
But here, in Confessions of a Hater, we finally get a switch in the formula. Not only does it involve teenagers, which technically makes this a Young Adult book—my first—but there’s very little romance in it; it’s more about a girl and her relationships with her friends and family, and what happens when she finds her older sister’s diary and uses some of its lessons to make herself over into one of the cool girls. Thankfully the humor is still full blast, making it well worth reading.
So, as always, the bulk of my review is made up of some of my favorite lines.
We start with a quote from the diary that generates the plot:
When anyone asks you if you hooked up with a guy, just roll your eyes and laugh. This way you simultaneously avoid looking like a prude or a slut.
It was a warm afternoon, and we occupied the children’s swings in the park, twisting the chains we hung from into impossibly tight spirals and then kicking up our feet to spin like Tasmanian devils.
This reminds me of the moment I fell in love with Caprice’s writing, in her first book, where the two girls have to get out of a truck in the middle of Noo Yawk traffic–it’s a lot funnier than that–and she writes: I grab her hand at the front of the car, and we Frogger our way to the sidewalk. She talked about how good she is at dialogue, had to work at description, but I say mission accomplished.
I’ve always had a hearty appetite. Basically, every minute of my life is a countdown to when I’ll eat next. The way I feel when a waiter brings my food is probably similar to the excitement of a dude on Maury who just got told he’s not the father.
And this is the tame example of what you might call “I can’t believe she went there!”
Tearing down others to make yourself feel better is like burning down your neighbors’ houses to make sure you have the nicest home on the street. You end up alone and the view sucks.