I have this habit of reading one book by an author I like and then going on to (re)read that author’s entire oeuvre. That’s how I end up with five Patricia Cornwell thrillers in a row on my reading list (or Agatha Christie mysteries, or Fannie Flagg novels, or…). And Meg Cabot (or, more accurately, her books) is no stranger to that habit of mine. This post is all the evidence you’ll need.
It usually starts with a Heather Wells mystery. Although Heather’s life is nothing like mine (she’s a former teen pop sensation living in New York, working as an assistent dorm director in which murders just keep happening), she’s spunky and funny and awkward enough to read true. Plus, an added bonus, I like my parents a lot more when I compare mine to hers: mine have never been in jail and/or run off to Argentina with all the money I made as a teen pop sensation.
After I burn through the “Death Dorm” novels, I usually move on to the Boy series, featuring adorable, semi-awkward female protagnoists and cute, semi-nerdy male ones.
Boy meets girl, girl likes boy, boy and/or girl gets into trouble but true love prevails in the end. (You know it’s true love because the people involved end up getting married or living together really quick. There’s no need to get to know each other if it’s true love, right?) My dating life has never even remotely resembled the ones in these books but I love them anyway.
These books I’ve read at least four times each. The others in this post, not so much. I include them just to be complete (and show you the extent of my obsession).
I’m not generally a fan of vampire fiction. So it might just be my bias here. But I barely got through the first book and then only my deep if somewhat shameful love for Meg Cabot got me to finish Overbite.
Actually, I don’t object to the supernatural. I just object to the gendered perspective these books present, and the writing style, and the plot, and what it says about love…okay, just about everything. But, I will say this: I suffered through all three Twilight books, and these are much better. Take that as you will. (Please don’t hate me if you liked Twilight. To each her own.)
I think this just might be the worst book I’ve ever read. The only reason I didn’t give into my impulse to throw it across the room multiple times was that I was reading it on a plane and other people don’t like it when you throw books, at them or otherwise. The plot is ridiculous and all hardships could have been avoided with a little common sense.
There you have it, my take on Meg Cabot’s novels. You’re welcome.