I do not like the current slew of she-who-dies-as-the-biggest-bitch-wins books being offered to our teen daughters as of late. I do not like them, Sam I Am. Don’t know what I’m talking about? I give you the Clique Series, the Clique Summer Collection Series, the Gossip Girl Series, the It Girl Series, and the Private Series.
This was taken off the back cover of one of the Gossip Girl books: “If we aren’t careful, S is going to win over our teachers, wear that dress we couldn’t fit into, eat the last olive, spill campari on our rugs, steal our brothers’ and boyfriends’ hearts, and basically ruin our lives and make us mad in a major way.” Let me just repeat part of that so we all understand the driving force behind this plot. “If we aren’t careful, S is going to… …wear that dress we couldn’t fit into.” That’s right. The girls in this book are so shallow that the angel of death swooping through their sad little world will not be wielding a flaming sword, but a size 2 Giorgio Armani. Give me the good old days when the worst a parent had to worry about was books about pre-marital teen sex.
I’m not naive. But I am petty. I can’t change any of this. I can mock the hell out of it.