Love the Book…Hate the Title

The best part about being sick but not too sick is having lots of time to read. I just finished One Crazy Summer, which I had read before but didn’t much like. I hated the title, and I found two of the main characters unbelievable. Delphine was way too responsible, competent, and nearly perfect for an eleven-year-old. And there was her cold, selfish mother. I didn’t buy them. Hearing and reading so many positive reviews, I thought I’d try it again. And indeed I liked it better this time. As I lay in bed blowing my nose, I found myself thinking about the book long after I closed it. And I decided that I didn’t believe in those characters not because of the way they were written or described but because I was lucky. I never had to be so responsible and perfect nor did I know anyone else who was. My mother and the mothers I knew were not selfish and cold. But that’s because I was lucky, we were lucky, not because the characters were unbelievable. I had to step outside, far outside, my own experience to accept the situation and the characters. And isn’t that opportunity the mark of a good book? Read it and tell me what you think. But I still hate the title.