Book 55: The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd (2003)



This book used to be so popular that I thought it would somewhat be worth reading. Not at all. This is yet another book about a fourteen-year-old girl with her teenage hangups – written by an adult who may have forgotten how it’s like to be a child. Jodi Picoult’s My Sister’s Keeper at least has an interesting premise (albeit an annoying set of font types), but The Secret Life of Bees is just dull. Maybe if I didn’t have any other books to read I would continue reading and finish it. As it is, I already borrowed many many books I actually want to read.

Movie 14: Grease 2 (1982)



I’m seeing the pattern in both Grease and Grease 2 here: uncool kid falls for cool kid; uncool kid has to change to make it work. I’m not sure if that’s the reason these movies were popular, but that’s just wrong. The dancing is less ridiculous than it is in the first movie, but I liked the songs in the first movie better.

For no reason at all I remember when my eighth-grade teacher mentioned something about a gang called Grease before we started reading The Outsiders. I wonder if she was referring to the gang in this movie. None of us really got it though.

Book 17: Peeps by Scott Westerfeld (2005)



I read Scott Westerfeld’s other/first book So Yesterday earlier this year and enjoyed it immensely. I thought it was both cute and clever despite the slow beginning. That’s why I tried to remain patient when I was reading Peeps. After a while, however, I just had to give up.

First, I don’t like the premise. Call me old-fashioned or something-phobe, but I become uncomfortable when I read a book about a teenager who is sexually active and doesn’t seem to regret it in any way. Yes, even if the main character is actually nineteen – an older teenager who’s legally an adult.

Second, what works in So Yesterday just doesn’t work here. The main character of that other book is in high school. In high school, it is only appropriate – if not expected – to label yourself as something or other (e.g., “hunter”). Coming from a nineteen-year-old, though, such bizarre classification just seems annoyingly childish.

Someone who has the mentality of a fifteen-year-old and is promiscuous just doesn’t get my sympathy, m’kay.

Book 16: Playing in Traffic by Gail Giles (2004)



The writing style is too chunky, and the characters take themselves way too seriously. ‘Nuff said.