HeartlessHeartless by Marissa Meyer
My rating: 1 of 5 stars

This book is SO bad. It’s a steaming, putrid mess of a book, and it doesn’t deserve any love. I expected so much better from Marissa, but this is what I got. THIS. I put off reading this book for so long, worried that it wouldn’t be as good as the lunar chronicles. I should have thrown it out when I had the chance.

First off, even though Cath is supposed to a sympathetic character, she was so simperingly stupid and unthinkingly callous that I despised her. I understand that she’s all pretty and all (though what does that really mean when one is surrounded by almost entirely Wonderland creatures), but her vanity and pride is too evident. I know that her “best friend,” Margaret, isn’t an entirely nice person, but the emphasis placed on her less-than-appealing looks are bound to give some girls (who may feel they fit the description too closely) serious body issues. Why does this sniveling bitch, Catherine, feel it’s her duty to condescend on Margaret when she attracts a suitor? There are like five quotes in which Catherine turns up her perfect shapely little nose and sniffs pityingly, while thinking things like “though why anyone would be attracted to Margaret, I have no clue.”

In that vein, why the HELL is Jest attracted to her? Besides the baking, she has nothing interesting about her, and she’s such a vain little jerk. There’s a serious case of instalove here, and Jest is one of those “too perfect for words” tropes with no personality and a dazzling array of skills, plus some “dry” (unfunny) humor that he somehow spews while smirking soulfully.

Call me jaded, but there’s no plot. Okay, so there’s some pumpkin eater villain guy and a Jabberwock (seriously? why???) that sometimes attacks, but the main plot point is that the king wants to marry Cath, but Cath wants a bakery and Jest and for some reason the vapid little girl can’t think for herself and just say “no.” Sure, her parents would be mad, but they got mad about the bakery, and she gets herself into a huge inexplicable mess by just staying silent. (view spoiler) There’s literally SO many chances, and 300 pages of this book are made up of just her complaining and complaining and complaining and never doing anything.

There’s so much more to complain about. The only character here I cared about even A LITTLE was Hatta, because he at least had a motivation that made some sense, and he did something about it, and he made cool hats. I can’t believe I finished this eyesore, but I felt obliged. Up until the last page I held out the hope that maybe it could get better, but it never, ever, did. So Marissa, I will not be reading Renegades, even though I have a signed copy. I don’t want to go through that again.

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First Book Post

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe (Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, #1)Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I read this book at the perfect time in my life. Ari’s growing pains resonated with my own and I found myself drawn in to the vividly depicted story.

My favorite part of the author’s writing is that he manages to accurately convey emotion without explicitly saying it. Instead of telling us Ari is angry, he has us use context clues and dialog to figure it out. The fact that we can easily follow what the characters are doing and WHY, without being led by hand to the correct conclusion is the mark of a good storyteller.

This book is a masterpiece. I don’t cry at many books, but this one left me sobbing like a baby.

I have so many more praises to sing, but I don’t have all day to write.

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Hey Guys!

Hi guys! I know I’ve been out for a very long time, and I just got back from vacation in Germany! I went and stayed in Bonn for two months with my little Havanese, and who do you think I saw there? That’s right! Luke! He wanted to rekindle the old flame, but I stayed well away from him… but who knows? Maybe this will kick things off!

Sorry that this post is a little short– I’m really jet-lagged!

Lucinda Banks (part 4)

I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been keeping up my blog. But I’ve had a lot on my plate.

I think you, dear reader, would like to hear about it. So I’ll tell you.

First, the biggest news: Lucinda and Luke are no longer married. She decided she’d had enough of him cheating on her, and so she filed for a divorce. She has the kids in her custody, and I think Luke isn’t doing very well. I’ve heard rumors he’s out of his job and living in a seedy housing development in upstate New York.

Not that I feel for him, of course. This divorce has led Lucinda and me back to each other, and I couldn’t be more grateful. We hang out almost every day now, and I’ve finally told my old tea-drinkers good riddance. I feel awful for ever implying that I hated her and I even though hard about deleting this blog, but my feelings back then are part of the story.

Second, the bad news: My darling Archie died last year. Sugar and he were really close and I believe the little dog is still mourning. Patch is a little better behaved, but I still feel a large hole where my sweet Arch once was. I’m thinking of maybe getting another dog. I know. Once a dog lady, always a dog lady.

This is Lollipop, signing off!

Lucinda Banks part 3

This last story concerns a certain Luke Reagan. It takes place when I’m 15, and bringing Luke home to meet my family. Lucinda here is 13.

The second he stepped in the I could see Lucy’s cheeks get red. I already knew what was coming. He grinned at her and stuck out his hand.

“Hey, I’m Luke. Have I seen you somewhere before?”

She smiled demurely back and took his hand. Lucy had always been gorgeous, a svelte brunette that I would fully admit was prettier than I.

“I’m Lucy. You’ve probably seen me around with my friends.” He nods at this, staring at her. I frown. This is not how I envisioned my day going.

Thankfully, my parents came in to save the day.

“Hi, Luke! We’ve heard SO much about you! Do you like split-pea soup?” I rolled my eyes. Typical embarrassing parent behavior.

Throughout dinner, Luke and Lucy couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other. I was getting increasingly jealous.

Finally, after we were all fed, I had to shove him out the door from where he was talking to Lucy.

“C’mon Luke, it’s Lucy’s bedtime. I mean she’s only thirteen, and she can’t keep care of herself.” Luke made a face.

“You’re underestimating her, Laura. She’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, bye.” I said, and closed the door.

He’d sometimes meet up with her, just her, and I’d find myself feeling jealous. I’d calm myself down, but it was all I could do to not confront him about it.

Maybe they were dating all that time and I didn’t know.

Until next time, this is Lollipop, signing off.

Lucinda Banks part 2

2. Monchhichi Dolls

Back in the 80’s there was a small Monchhichi craze at my school. I decided that I had to have one. I begged and begged my parents, but they were adamant in their refusal.

“It’s not your birthday, Lolly!” They would say. “We’re not paying 10 dollars for a doll when you already have so many!”

Of course, I was heartbroken. Here little ol’ nine-year-old me was, and I wasn’t getting what I wanted. Traumatizing.

I spent my days at my friend Mimi’s house, where we played with her seven (SEVEN!!!) Monchhichis. I would play happily for hours, glorying in their freckled faces and inviting blue eyes. Then, every day when I got home, I would cry and cry and cry.

It got so bad that I started cutting out pictures of Monchhichis that I drew and playing with them whenever I wasn’t at Mimi’s. It was really an obsession, and I laugh at myself now, but back then it was really important to me.

I taped all these Monchhichi pictures to my Christmas list, along with the word written in huge letters:


My parents got the point, but they still held out on me. All I got for Christmas was a sweater and a board game that had a note that said “Better than a Monchhichi” on it. It was infuriating. Who were they to not allow me to have one?

One day my sister (who was seven at the time) went off to her friend Amanda’s house and came back with a wad of cash. My ‘rents and I were shocked. She told us that she had done the Heimlich on Amanda’s little brother, and his parents, in gratitude for saving his life, gave her money.

Two days later, while getting into bed, I felt something hard under my pillow. I picked it up, confused. Lying there was a sailor Monchhichi doll with a handwritten note that said:

“Now can you please stop whining about them? – Lucy.”

Of course I did, and I’ve never forgotten what she did for me.

Until next time, this is Lollipop, signing off!

p.s. After I wrote this I felt so nostalgic that I bought myself a Monchhichi! fBuh-bye now!