Book #15 Prep by Curtis Sittenfield
Thursday, April 28th, 2005 by Miss Laura
I must have read a review on this title, because I had special ordered it. However, when it came in I couldn’t recall the why or wherefore. I started reading it, and was like OH! I love this kind of book – it must have a murder twist like Secret History or The Basic Eight. I didn’t want to ruin whatever the edge was so I refused to even read the back cover or the dust jacket flap. I just scooted to the edge of my seat and focused on the book.
The first half was enthralling. A great set up with character development so intense I felt part of the main character. Not a skeevy part like a soiled sock as I would in a boy teen novel, but a nice part like a swatch with one of those little protectors on it so the face doesn’t get scratched up.
Maybe it would have been different if I hadn’t been so sure there would be some grizzly fantastic twist. As it was though, the second half was flat.
There was no murdering of the obnoxious broke preppy boy who tortured the incest twins.
There was no bludgeoning with a croquet mallet and a sharp tongue.
There was NO NOTHING.
The horrible situation the main character had to get out of was one of embarassment in front of her compatriots, but it happened one week before she graduated. NOTHING. The only violence at all was the force with which I threw the book upon finishing it.
“Long life wore away everything that was not essential. Some old men finished their lives as little more than the sum total of their memories, others as nothing a pair of grasping pincers, or a set of bitter axioms proven. It would please him well enough to amount to no more in the end than a single great organ of detection, reaching into blankness for a clue.” —
“The reading of Dawn is a strain upon many parts, but the worst wear and tear fall on the forearms. After holding the massive volume for the half-day necessary to its perusal (well, look at that, would you? “massive volume” and “perusal,” one right after the other! You see how contagious Mr. D’s manner is?), my arms ached with a slow, mean persistence beyond the services of aspirin or of liniment. I must file this distress, I suppose under the head of ‘Occupational Diseases….” Dorothy Parker’s Review of Theodore Dreiser’s Dawn
Whoot! This is my favorite one thus far -so much that I wish people could read this one first as an introduction to the series. As always, it was supremely witty.