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A review by sarahetc
Plain Bad Heroines by Emily M. Danforth
2.0
I got to about page 460 before I quit.
Not sure what was going on here, or with me, or the particular alchemy of me attempting to read this book at this time. I recall looking at the description and thinking it was not something for me. At least, right now. Nevertheless, it came up in the pick list, so I had to get it and started to read it. It started off well! It was a very interesting dessert bombe of a book: a novel about a book, about girls and a school who read that book, and about a girls in a movie about a book about the girls and the school with the book. See? Like an ouroboros of fictive non-fiction ghost stories. It was neat. There were footnotes and for once, they were funny. There were great characters, across massive timespans. Some of them even turned out to be deliciously annoying and awful. And I'm here to say it's been a long time since I had a good hate-read.
But then shortly after halfway, something fell apart. The story contracted and lost momentum. I could not stand to read another word about Alex versus her Imaginary Version of Sara Dahlgren (even when the parallelism between Libbie, Alex, and Sara was so neon hot analogous to Harper, Audrey, Merritt). I started skipping chunks of the past, because at least the present was interesting and spooky. Until I had to read 6 more pages of strangers fawning over Harper while Merritt tried to figure out what was going on without ceding any of her contempt and Audrey waffled over what Bo would do or say.
And I had to quit. I have no idea how it ends. This is the worst review ever. Maybe it was great! Maybe everyone got theirs and Brookhants really was terribly cursed and everybody died of yellow jacket stings and eating poison flowers. Maybe the Mary McLane book is out there now, lurking in wait for the next generation. Or maybe it was all a happy ending and the Wonder Triplet Power of H, M, and A somehow gelled at the last minute and remediated everything with Lesbian Love and Acceptance. I kind of wish both.
But yeah, something wasn't right, didn't work; became a chore and a time suck, had to set it down. If you can dig it, go for it.
p.s., my favorite part of the book:
I don't know about you, but I would watch THE HECK out of that.
Not sure what was going on here, or with me, or the particular alchemy of me attempting to read this book at this time. I recall looking at the description and thinking it was not something for me. At least, right now. Nevertheless, it came up in the pick list, so I had to get it and started to read it. It started off well! It was a very interesting dessert bombe of a book: a novel about a book, about girls and a school who read that book, and about a girls in a movie about a book about the girls and the school with the book. See? Like an ouroboros of fictive non-fiction ghost stories. It was neat. There were footnotes and for once, they were funny. There were great characters, across massive timespans. Some of them even turned out to be deliciously annoying and awful. And I'm here to say it's been a long time since I had a good hate-read.
But then shortly after halfway, something fell apart. The story contracted and lost momentum. I could not stand to read another word about Alex versus her Imaginary Version of Sara Dahlgren (even when the parallelism between Libbie, Alex, and Sara was so neon hot analogous to Harper, Audrey, Merritt). I started skipping chunks of the past, because at least the present was interesting and spooky. Until I had to read 6 more pages of strangers fawning over Harper while Merritt tried to figure out what was going on without ceding any of her contempt and Audrey waffled over what Bo would do or say.
And I had to quit. I have no idea how it ends. This is the worst review ever. Maybe it was great! Maybe everyone got theirs and Brookhants really was terribly cursed and everybody died of yellow jacket stings and eating poison flowers. Maybe the Mary McLane book is out there now, lurking in wait for the next generation. Or maybe it was all a happy ending and the Wonder Triplet Power of H, M, and A somehow gelled at the last minute and remediated everything with Lesbian Love and Acceptance. I kind of wish both.
But yeah, something wasn't right, didn't work; became a chore and a time suck, had to set it down. If you can dig it, go for it.
p.s., my favorite part of the book:
* Carlos Burr's review of Big Yard, Quiet Street happened to contain Bo's personal favorite ... of his style: "Think Wes Anderson directing a remake of The Shining, only set it in suburbia and ask Shirley Jackson to consult."
I don't know about you, but I would watch THE HECK out of that.