Monthly Archives: February 2010

If Book Covers Could Talk: In Love Again

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Courtesy of The Closet

Liz: Hi Todd!

Todd:  Hey Liz, you sure look pretty.

Liz: Thanks. Randy Mason made a time machine, and I traveled to the future to a place called Urban Outfitters, and got this dress.

Todd: Wow! Who are we posing for?

Liz: I don’t know, but keep smiling!

Todd: Well, that won’t be hard, I am so glad my family moved back to Sweet Valley and now we are super rich! Too bad I go to Lovett Academy, the snooty prep school. The kids here have names like Campbell Rochester, hang out with celebs like Michael Jackson and take seminars on ancient Greece. Since we don’t go to the same school anymore, I rarely get to see you.

Liz:I know! It’s so hard!

Todd: THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!

Liz: Who said that? Jessica? Enid?

Todd: Oh never mind. We should spend every waking moment together after school, going to Secca lake, where you can give me a b-

Liz:…book to read that expresses how much I love you?

Todd: Sure…yea, I guess. That’s what I meant.

Liz: Oh Todd, but this is so hard! By being with each other, we are neglecting our other commitments! The Oracle will fall apart without me!

Todd: Well then…maybe we should break up.

Liz: Oh Todd, you really mean it? It’s just like when you were here!

Todd: I know, but this may be awkward, because Courtney, the girl whom I rejected for you, has decided to take her revenge out on us by convincing her radio-producer father tio sponsor a battle of the area schools to see which school is best. There will be a geography bee, really races, and rope climbing. Oh, and a trivia bowl. Because those things prove the best school. All the schools will agree to this, and the entire event will take place at Lovett Academy. All the schools will get a week off, of course and somehow coincidentally, we will end up doing the same event- rope climbing. Only you will be on the SVH team and I will be on the Lovett team. And the competing against each other will serve as a metaphor for our competing commitments and lifestyles that keep us apart. Only Courtney will loosen your rope, causing you to fall snd almost break your neck. This near-death experience (your 15th) will cause me to see how much I really do love you, and I will convince my parents to let me enroll back in Sweet Valley High, where I really belong.

Liz: But Todd, that seems so unlikely to happen!

Todd: I know, right? It’s so far-fetched!

Liz: I mean really, a geography bee? Of course it would be a spelling bee! Who do you think I am, an idiot?

Todd: No, of course not. Now shut up and let’s get to the Dairi Burger so I can hand feed you some french fries and lick the salt off your fingers.

Back in the Trenches: Sweet Little Lies

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Lauren Conrad has another bestseller. And I’m going to put a gun in my mouth.

Luckily, guest poster Lauren (not Conrad) takes one for the team and reviews it. As she would say “Go unpro!” and read her blog The Unprofessional Critic.

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It’s Saturday night, I’m at my favorite bookstore, and much like Lauren Conrad on a bad hair day (except dorky, bespectacled, and well, not a perfect size two), I’m praying I don’t get recognized.

See, I used to work at this very bookstore. And my hot punky former coworker, well, still works there. And I really didn’t want him ringing up my Lauren Conrad novel.

Last July, I guest-blogged my thoughts on LC’s first literary masterpiece, L.A. Candy. I promised ihatewheat that I’d follow through with the follow-up, Sweet Little Lies. . . only it wasn’t so easy this time. For one, it’s not my birthday or Christmas, so I actually have to spend money on this one. Money that will no doubt go toward Lauren’s manicures, when I can’t afford to get my own nails done.

And I run the risk of Hot Hipster Former Coworker looking at my purchase when he should be looking at my boobs.

I took a deep breath, stepped up to the register, the words “it’s for an ironic blog!” on my tongue and threatening to burst forth . . . and was rung up by a very polite individual who no doubt was still rolling his eyes in his mind.

All for y’all. And okay, I was morbidly curious too.

For me, L.A. Candy was the literary equivalent of a Marshmallow Peep, now available year-round as chicks, snowmen, or truly frightening Pepto Bismol-hued monster hearts. Sweet and fun to ingest, but largely forgettable and best in small doses. Also, as my college roommates and I discovered one night when we were bored, would probably blow up if we microwaved it long enough.

Forget Marshmallow Peeps: Sweet Little Lies was the literary equivalent of dog crap coated in granulated sugar. I used to eat granulated sugar straight up, but even when covered with grainy white goodness, a turd’s a turd. I’m not sure if Lauren’s still maintaining the “I wrote this all by myself because I’m a big girl” facade, but something went wonky here. I’m thinking her L.A. Candy editor lost the will to live somewhere along the way, or quite possibly burned the hell out after burning the midnight oil to make L.A. Candy into something readable, and this one Lauren actually DID write on her own.

For the love of God, someone get me a ghostwriting job because I could rock the shit out of the Lauren Conrad book franchise. Or at least make them readable enough so I don’t have to turn to Joyce Maynard every 30 pages to avoid developing a self-injury habit.

Lauren Conrad gone wild. It ain’t pretty, folks. If not a sugar-coated turd, Sweet Little Lies is like those really nasty chocolate bunnies that are actually hollow and give you a really bad stomachache. She is a moderately literate closetmonkey.

But she doesn’t know that:

I bet posing with the lollipop was her idea. Because no one ever (*cough* Fleetwood Mac *cough*) has equated sweetness with lying. Just like florals for spring, LC is downright groundbreaking.

A brief recap of L.A. Candy: When we last left our fair heroine, wannabe event planner turned reality star Jane Roberts, she had cheated on her alcoholic douche of a boytoy Jesse (aka “Flenser”) with Jesse’s friend and roommate, aspiring actor Braden (Chody). Except the paparazzi–did you know that paparazzo is the singular form of paparazzi? Kimiko taught me that!–somehow found out, and Jane ended up escaping to Cabo with her costar, the fake-titted and blonde-brained Meidi, I mean Madison. Meanwhile, Jane’s book-smart yet HAWT BFF/roomie/reluctant reality show participant Scarlett was left behind with airheaded PR girl Gaby (Spadrina).

Believe me, this plot is friggin’ War and Peace compared to that of Sweet Little Lies. So much that I’m not going to outline the whole thing for ya. Think of it as agony-sparing. Let’s just say that . . . stuff happens. Flenser gets drunk. Jane gets sanctimonious. Madison gets manipulative and is a big huge liar as well as a plastic surgery-addicted hobag (who doesn’t make crappy YouTube videos because there’s such a thing as defamation and Lauren didn’t want to get sued). Spadrina is a dumbass and I bet she’s got a wonky eye. Chody makes a brief appearance with his whorish lovah Willow. I think someone gets punched.

Really, the only interesting character in this cerebral abomination is Scarlett, who learns to love (aw) a cute cameraman named Liam who can match her classic lit for classic lit. If Lauren or her entourage knew anything, they’da made Scarlett the main character. She’s like the Lila of this franchise: dark-haired, sassy, wealthy and waaaaaaay the hell more intriguing than boring-ass Jane.

Also, can we talk about how freaking naive Jane is? The only way I could understand her utterly sheltered and pop culturally uninformed little mind is if they had made her a cavewoman with her own language like Nell (1994 movie references FTW!). It ain’t 2000, kids: unless you’ve lived in solitary confinement for the past decade, you have a basic understanding of how reality TV works. You’re miked most of the time. Stuff is staged. If there’s not an actual script, then conversations are guided. And there’s editing editing editing.

Jane, on the other hand, is SHOCKED to find that her coworker Hannah (aka Shitney) was (GASP) hired specifically for the show and (GASP) is pushing a producer-mandated agenda.

Oh, and Madison gets blackmailed. By an anonymous source who has pictures of her with GLASSESand BROWN HAIR. NOOOOOOO!

Madison WISHES she was as cool as this brunette bespectacled lady.

The overarching theme of Sweet Little Lies is this: Lauren really, really, really hates Heidi. But she can’t murder Heidi in her sleep because truTV doesn’t get as many viewers as MTV, and Lifetime Television for Women is an entirely different demographic. So instead, Lauren rips the Madison character a new unbleached a-hole. Even in 300 pages of characters less dimensional than an environmentally-unfriendly grocery bag, Madison stands out as heinously one-note. She’s not only a sociopath masquerading as a party girl heiress, but a homewrecking prostitute, depending on married older boyfriends for income. She sells photos of Jane to tabloids in exchange for coverage, and lies about it. The only time there’s an iota of sympathy for Madison is near the end when she wishes she had a real boyfriend. And that’s just screwed-up in itself.

Now for the shitshow you’ve all been waiting for: QUOTES!

· . . . she had about a million things she’d rather be doing than attending some lame launch party for Cut (pronounced “cute”), a new clothing line by the Japanese-American pop star Mika. Apparently Lauren is unaware that this guy exists, that he’s fabulous, and that HIS MUSIC HAS BEEN FEATURED ON HER FRIGGING SHOW.
· Madison, requesting a nail color at her manicure: That really deep red. I think it’s called Poison Apple. Because “Trashy Disgusting Bitchcakes” would be considered inflammatory in a court of law.
· Ooh, a Proust reference! If Scarlett didn’t feel so crappy, she would answer the professor’s questions about the madeleine . . . Scarlett loved the idea of sensory experiences invoking memories. Lauren name-checks Wuthering Heights as well, but that doesn’t count because it was in a Twilight book.
· The red-haired girl was what’s-her-name, Willow, who was not Braden’s girlfriend, exactly, but more of a friend with benefits. (The arrangement was likely his idea, not hers.) Because normal women don’t want that kind of arrangement EVER. We prefer codependency and cheating, Liz-and-Todd style, with the occasional kidnapping (but only if frozen pancakes are involved).
· “No thanks,” Madison replied. “I’m trying to lose a few pounds.” And you could stand to lose more than a few pounds, she thought, eyeing Jane’s figure. Body snark, body snark, who’s got the body snark?
· Airheaded Gaby: I’ve got a fifth sense about stuff like that. The follow up quote, It’s like I have ESPN or something! was cut, as was the part where Gaby fondles her boobs in the rain.
· Aaaand the bastardization of “best friend forever:” Jane was her BFFN [explained earlier to be Best Friend for Now], or more accurately, her BFFC (best friend for cameras)–not her real BFF. Madison didn’t have real BFFs any more than she had real BFs. This is about when I threw my third manuscript out the window, because if this is what’s selling I truly don’t have a prayer.

My point? Sweet Little Lies isn’t fun-bad. It’s BAD-bad. I started drinking about halfway through and still didn’t enjoy myself. You’d think that someone mired in the reality-show experience could put together a convincing fictionalized tell-all, complete with disguised salacious details.

Nope. Shitty chocolate bunnies, y’all.

Ponies and Abortions

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…is not the name of my nu-metal band, but basically what happens in our final installment of the Caitlin series. Yes, for nine books, we’ve seen our beloved Caitlin go from a spoiled boarding school brat, to a missionary saving children from the horror of coal mining, modeling, running a business, and evil lawyers. And though we get a whole book detailing Caitlin’s nauseating brie-and-wine picnics with the evil Julian, this last books seems to skim through the most important aspects of her life.

Anyway…hit it, Rick!

Caitlin is back at Ryan manor, after deciding to take over Ryan Mining. Jed has decided to move there too and they will start a business breeding thoroughbreds. Ugh. So in other words, fuck you, poor people. We buy expensive horses to make more expensive horses. How’s that welfare? Oh but of course they are not staying in the same room! They are not married yet! Plus, Caitlin is still president of the company, which means putting on stylish silk pantsuits and signing documents.

Caitlin and Jed decide to go to a horse auction to start their plantation of animal slaves. They find the horse of their dreams, named Magic Man, but they have to bid on it, and they bid one million fucking dollars. I guess those kids at the summer camp at the mining town don’t need that money. Better yet, instead of having the animal continually raped so they can make money, they decide that they are also going to train the horse to be a racing horse! How awesome! And before you tell me to get off my soap box about animal rights and how these horses like it because they are born to run, let’s just remember that horse who won the Kentucky Derby last year who was shot immediately after because its ankles were broken. FROM RACING.

Oh, can I mention that all the serving staff at Ryan Manor are still there? It’s easy for me to judge those with live in help, but is it fucking necessary? Jeeves the driver/butler whoever has to sit around all day waiting until Caitlin decides she wants to go into town to get her nails done and rush out. And she still has a cook. For two people? because for every meal they need ceviche (I don’t even know what that is, btw) and creme brulee for dessert? Jesus, make your own fucking sandwich Caitlin. Better yet, buy a million dollar horse and kill it and eat it.

So Jed and Caitlin stop fighting for five minutes to have their beautiful fairytale, WASP-y wedding. Then we jump to the next chapter and they are lying on the beach on their honeymoon! What? No fair! Or as Claire Pike would say (nofe air! nofe air!) We don’t get to see their wedding night? I call major bullshit. I mean, I wanted to hear about how Caitlin emerged wearing some cheesy garter thing and the Jed jumps on top of her, grunting and pumping away, and Caitlin laying there like a scared starfish not even understanding that she was supposed to be getting anything out of it. Caitlin tries to say “Jed, I love you baby” but then he says “shut up, I’m almost there!” Perhaps I have thought about these details too much.

Anyway…on their honeymoon in Hawaii, Jed wants to try surfing but Caitlin is dubious because she is afraid that Jed will get hurt. He has a near miss and since I have taken ninth grade English, I can recognize this complicated literary device called foreshadowing. That’s deep. Later on at home, Jed wants to enter a surfing contest at Virginia Beach. Caitlin also finds out that she’s preggers, and debates telling Jed so he won’t try surfing. She refuses because, why should she busy her husband with such womanly things?

Jed wipes out, hits some rocks, or stubs his toe I don’t even remember. He’s rushed to the hospital and he’s paralyzed from the neck down. (Where is Jack Sheppard when you need him?) He doesn’t want Caitlin to stay with him out of pity with himself. But wait, what’s the point of being white, rich and WASP-y if you can’t use your connections? Dr. Westlake, Caitlin’s inappropriately-affectionate father, knows of a doctor doing some ground-breaking spinal surgery who can save Jed. But it’s…evil Julian! Class, that’s called irony. Kind of like when Friends was funny and Joey got fired from his soap opera gig as a brain surgeon and his character was thrown down an elevator shaft, and “the only person that could save me…was me. I guess that’s supposed to be some sort of irony or something.”

So in order to convince Jed to get the surgery (apparently he’s scheduled for the next day, fuck all those people on the waiting list. They’re probably deemed too ugly to get the surgery) Caitlin tells him about his spawn-to-be. Jed agrees to do the surgery, but if it doesn’t work he tells Caitlin, he will annul their marriage and “there will be no baby”. What? Is he going to hire someone to run after Caitlin with a wire coat hanger? Was that over the line?

Oh yea, Julian Stokes has changed, Jed heals, and like two weeks later he’s walking around Ryan Acres with their perfect little baby. Caitlin gets another horse and Magic Man wins a race. Julian and Caitlin’s friend Ginny gets engaged, and so do Melanie (Jed’s sister) and Caitlin’s lawyer. They toast to their future. A future of boring dinner parties and antique shopping.

Ok, is it time to talk about Caitlin’s wedding attire? I like how her veil is made to show off her teased bangs. And is that Jed or her father?

On another note, thanks to everyone who alerted me to the news about Sweet Valley Confidential. Sure, I am excited, but I’m not going to believe it until I see it.

Teen gambling is a serious issue, you guys.

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I think by book 51 the SVH ghostwriters had covered most of the pressing issues facing teens in the 1980s, and it came down to teen gambling and teen pregnancy. Of course, no one dared to do anything that had to do with sex, so it was someone’s job to make a moral tale for all about the dangers of gambling.

It can be dangerous. Remember what happened to Brandon Walsh? He went overboard with gambling on basketball games and eventually….his rich friend bailed him out. Yea, it can be bad.

Ronnie Edwards, who no one likes because he was mean to Enid and is not a Todd or a Bruce, is having problems at home with his single father. You know what that means- a life of dysfunction. He’s been dabbling in gambling and his bookie, Big Al, has given him lots of loans, like a Mustang convertible to drive. He’s showing the car around to everyone and metaphorically swininging his dick around. No one cares. Some guys try to beat him up for his car and Jeffrey and his super strong soccer legs come to bail him out. Suddenly Jeffrey is Ronnie’s best friend. Or Ronnie thinks.

Big Al, the bookie, specializes in taking bets on high school sports. Is this normal in the bookie world? I don’t know. If you are a bookie, fill me in. Ronnie owes a lot of money to Big Al, and Big Al sends his henchmen Max to rough him up a bit. Jeffrey starts to feel bad for Ronnie and considers throwing the game. Then Liz comes sniffing around to judge Ronnie and Jeffrey becomes mildly annoyed with her. Isn’t Jeffrey always sort of mildly annoyed with Liz? That’s why we love him.

The big soccer game. Liz has a person-in-need-boner, so she keeps an eye on Ronnie during the game. She sees Max come in and lead him away. Liz follows them to an abandoned warehouse (Sweet Valley seems to have several set aside for gang fights and torture). When Liz goes to a pay phone to call the police Max kidnaps her and holds she and Max captive. Liz, for whom death threats are a typical Saturday activity, thinks fast and they are able to knock out Max, and escape back to the soccer game in time to tell Jeffrey that he doesn’t have to throw the game. The police come to arrest Big Al and everyone runs off to celebnrate by binge-eating at the Dairi Burger. Except for Elizabeth and Jeffrey, who need time to make out.

In a side story that someone started and then never really came up for an ending with, Jessica, starts designing jewelery. And she uses a lot of feathers and big pieces of metal. How Claudia Kishi of her. Everyone loves them so she decides to bring them to a boutique to sell, and the boutique owner asks for more. Liz charges $900 worth of materials on her mom’s credit card, but then, as you can guess because you are not an idiot, the boutique does not want them anymore. So, Jessica took a GAMBLE on buying the supplies thinking her stuff would sell, but GAMBLING does not pay off. See how that worked? Gamblers never win, people. That’s the lesson of the day. Alice gets tiffed and makes Jessica promise to pay her back every week until she pays off her debt. Yet, as we know in the next book, she’ll probably charge a slutty gold lame dress from Lisette’s because of some dance coming up.

Do I even have to tell you that this one was a total stinker? The only thing that saved it for me was this exchange between Jeffrey and Ronnie:

Ronnie ran over to his side like a sick puppy. “Hi Jeff!” he said. “How did it go?”

“It’s Jeffrey,” Jeffrey snapped. “No one calls me Jeff.”

You heard it hear first. Do NOT call him Jeff.

That and there were about a dozen mentions of students and classmates never mentioned before. I may need to update the roster.