48 MORE TO GO
FOREVER
By Judy Blume
I read this book, not for the joy of reading, so much as it was the book my book club chose to read. Now, before you go all, "WHAT THE HECK?!?!?" on me, please know that this book choice was born from a very humorous conversation that I am not at liberty to discuss in this blog post. Just know it was funny.
At any rate, I love Judy Blume, and so I thought I would love this book.
Not so much.
God bless you, Judy Blume, but I intensely disliked this book for all the whiny, prepubescent-ness it oozed. And maybe that is the crux of the whole argument for why I so intensely despised it ... because I was an almost 38 year old reading a book that only a 14 year old could relate to.
I vividly remember all the other Judy Blume books I've read ... Hello, God, It's Me Margaret? Loved that book! It resonated with me. I remember reading Tiger Eyes, a scandalous book my mother would have torn from my hot, sweaty little patties had she known I was reading it (sorry, Mom), and I remember dog-earing the "good parts" to refer back to later. HA! I don't remember either being insipid and whiny and UGH!
But then again, it was a different time, a different age, and I was a different person.
So, perhaps, I wasn't meant to read Young Adult books as a quickly aging (according to my sister) woman. Maybe, this book would have been magical when I was younger, say some 24 years ago (stifle the gasp of horror).
I mean, after all, I'm still trying to figure how The Who got to be such old farts. When did that happen?
By Judy Blume
I read this book, not for the joy of reading, so much as it was the book my book club chose to read. Now, before you go all, "WHAT THE HECK?!?!?" on me, please know that this book choice was born from a very humorous conversation that I am not at liberty to discuss in this blog post. Just know it was funny.
At any rate, I love Judy Blume, and so I thought I would love this book.
Not so much.
God bless you, Judy Blume, but I intensely disliked this book for all the whiny, prepubescent-ness it oozed. And maybe that is the crux of the whole argument for why I so intensely despised it ... because I was an almost 38 year old reading a book that only a 14 year old could relate to.
I vividly remember all the other Judy Blume books I've read ... Hello, God, It's Me Margaret? Loved that book! It resonated with me. I remember reading Tiger Eyes, a scandalous book my mother would have torn from my hot, sweaty little patties had she known I was reading it (sorry, Mom), and I remember dog-earing the "good parts" to refer back to later. HA! I don't remember either being insipid and whiny and UGH!
But then again, it was a different time, a different age, and I was a different person.
So, perhaps, I wasn't meant to read Young Adult books as a quickly aging (according to my sister) woman. Maybe, this book would have been magical when I was younger, say some 24 years ago (stifle the gasp of horror).
I mean, after all, I'm still trying to figure how The Who got to be such old farts. When did that happen?
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