main leads were likeable (though the female lead was a cross between tough and damsel-in-distress). the book itself was often cute, but then more o2.5
main leads were likeable (though the female lead was a cross between tough and damsel-in-distress). the book itself was often cute, but then more often than not too corny. unfortunately, the excess of drama that was thrown into the mix, existed just for the hell of it. had it been toned down a bit, i would've gladly rated the book somewhere between 3 and 3.5 stars. as it stands, fans of the movie legends of the fall or maybe even little house on the prairie might like it, though! it's got civil courage, horse breeding, racism against native americans, parent-child-conflicts etc. etc. [ recommended by katrina lumsden ]
*********************************************** "i could have explained." "maybe you would have if i hadn't been so busy calling you names." anne's voice was a husky whisper. "i'm sorry, really. i wish i could promise it won't ever happen again, but i can't even do that. i'll try. trusting seems to be the hardest part."
bantering between the sisters: My mood does not improve at dinner. Mrs. O’Hare’s fish chowder is as awful as I’d anticipated: salty and ill seasone1.5/5
bantering between the sisters: My mood does not improve at dinner. Mrs. O’Hare’s fish chowder is as awful as I’d anticipated: salty and ill seasoned. She’s an excellent housekeeper but a poor cook. I spread fresh butter on thick slabs of sourdough and ignore the bowl in front of me. Tess holds Father’s bowl in her gaze, and a moment later he’s declaring it a wonder. I frown at Tess until Maura kicks me under the table. I kick her back harder, and she jumps in her seat. The bread in my mouth turns to peppery ashes. I gag and reach for my glass of water. “All right, Cate?” Father asks, looking up from his miraculous chowder. “Fine,” I choke. Maura gives an angelic smile. She knows I won’t fight back magically, I never do, but I’m hard-pressed not to lean across the table and slap her.
i'm afraid i do not share the same enthusiasm like many of the other readers who read this ... book. it started okay, but turned out making me so mad!
i'm afraid i do not share the same enthusiasm like many of the other readers who read this ... book. it started okay, but turned out from corny to cornier. *shakes head*
especially the unnecessary epilogue had me groaning in despair and anguish. the book equaled (most of) those cheap-cheesy adult romances out there, only the sex happened between the lines. elkeles stripped the book of its remaining dignity!
You know these times, when everything is freezing around you, making you freeze and shiver like a leaf as well? All you want to do is curl up somewherYou know these times, when everything is freezing around you, making you freeze and shiver like a leaf as well? All you want to do is curl up somewhere warm and drink from a mug ... delicious, hot chocolate? This book is that mug with delicious, hot chocolate.
I had a fun time with all the characters and the pranks they played on each other were enjoyable to read too, though I'm glad it wasn't me. Marcus was a little boring, but the other characters (especially Tally & Blake *bigSmirk*) made up for that.
Quotes worthy of quoting
"If someone found out they only had one day to live, they should totally move to Hog’s Hollow, because here every day feels like an eternity."
“It’s mostly my dad I miss.” ( ... ) Tally looks up at me. “It’s hard,” she says sympathetically, and I just nod. “Know what else is hard?” Blake asks. We both look at him. “Listening to you two sometimes.” “What do you mean?” Tally asks. “Girls are so dumb.” Tally squints at him threateningly, but he continues. “With guys it’s simple. When I hang out with my friends, we just chill. You two are all with the ‘Oh, I wonder if so-and-so likes me.’ ” Blake makes his voice high when he says it. “Is that supposed to be me?” Tally asks. “Yes, you.” Then he points at me. “And Penny. All of your kind.” “Are you as offended as I am?” she asks me, pretending to be insulted. I nod. “I’m going to end this thing,” Blake says. “Tally, do you take Penny to be your friend?” She looks at me and says, “I do.” “Penny, do you take Tally to be your friend?” “I do, too.” A tiny spark glows inside of me, one that I didn’t even know had gone out. “I now pronounce you two friends,” Blake says. He kicks the ground to make their glider swing. “Now can we please talk about something more interesting?”...more
A whimsical and refreshingly honest coming of age story about the blossoming sexuality of a teenage girl, based ofilm pairing:
TURN ME ON, (GOD)DAMMIT!
A whimsical and refreshingly honest coming of age story about the blossoming sexuality of a teenage girl, based on the novel by Olaug Nilssen.
15-year-old Alma (Helene Bergsholm) is consumed by her out-of-control hormones and fantasies that range from sweetly romantic images of Artur, the boyfriend she yearns for, to down-and-dirty daydreams about practically everybody she lays eyes on. Alma and her best friend Sara live in an insufferably boring little town in the hinterlands of Norway called Skoddeheimen, a place they loathe so much that every time their school bus passes the sign that names it, they routinely flip it off. After Alma has a stimulating yet awkward encounter with Artur, she makes the mistake of telling her incredulous friends, who ostracize her at school, until Sara can’t even be seen with her. At home, Alma’s single mother is overwhelmed and embarrassed by her daughter’s extravagant phone sex bills and wears earplugs to muffle Alma’s round-the-clock acts of self-gratification. Throughout, the complexities of Alma’s burgeoning sexuality are compassionately rendered by Systad Jacobsen with a frankness that always rings true, as does first-time actress Helene Bergsholm’s funny and moving performance as Alma.
Laced with warmth and quirky humor, Turn Me On, Dammit! is a light-hearted take on a story that is told so often about boys and so rarely about teenage girls. [ click ] [ review ]...more
Hanna's father is an old, wealthy guy known for his real life soap & her mother earns her living through her website. Hanna tries to blend in withHanna's father is an old, wealthy guy known for his real life soap & her mother earns her living through her website. Hanna tries to blend in with the shadows. She lives with her mom & they have financial issues, so she has a part time job, where she meets her "soulmate" Josh (only he doesn't know it yet!), who's perfect & the annoying Finn who's the total opposite, anything but perfect.
"You know," Finn says, leaning over my terminal, "One day you're going to ask me out. We're meant to be together. It's fate. Like peanut butter & jelly." "Like peanut butter & jelly? For real? Finn, when's the last time you ate?" "I am kind of hungry", he says, blushing again. "but I'm telling you, you and me-" "Meant to be stuck sitting next to each other. Believe me, I know that. Now go get your soda & eat something. And never mention anything involving fate & sandwiches again."...more
**spoiler alert** well, the whole behind the back kissing and sort-of flirting is not my kind of thing.
i can see understand how sarah fell in love wi**spoiler alert** well, the whole behind the back kissing and sort-of flirting is not my kind of thing.
i can see understand how sarah fell in love with ryan. but how about a little self-control? it's okay to crush on someone from afar, but not if he or she's not "single ready to mingle". sarah's not the only one at fault though!
seriously? two months? he seriously needed nearly two months time to make up his freakin' mind? ryan should have broken up his relationship with brianna a long time ago. he didn't do that, which makes him a coward. he liked sarah from the beginning and still picked brianna. sarah deserves someone who picks her first.
now that I think about it ... this read a lot like a young adult version of Something Borrowed.
BOTH books can be summarised as follows: [maid of Honor/main character] likes her bff's [soon-to-be groom/boyfriend]. he likes her back. boyfriend cheats on girlfriend to be with the girl he likes. cheated [soon-to-be bride/girl] finds out. they go separate ways. END OF BOOK(s)....more
matthew mcconaughey represents a certain type of romantic-comedy hero that i’ve come to loathe. th
ending/romance: bleh everything else: thumbs up
matthew mcconaughey represents a certain type of romantic-comedy hero that i’ve come to loathe. the man-pig. the bad boy. the douchebag. the guy who has to be tamed or fixed – or by-true-love cured. when it’s not matthew mcconaughey in this role, it’s gerard butler. or josh duhamel. it’s always somebody who looks good with his shirt off because that’s what this character has instead of redeeming qualities – a really spectacular chest. it’s supposed to be disarming, i think. but it’s not.
for me, there’s nothing romantic – or even darkly irresistible – about a roguishly handsome guy who treats women like kleenex. when one of these characters comes on screen, i always want katherine heigl to run the other way as fast as she can. (it’s always katherine heigl, isn’t it? someone in hollywood loves watching katherine heigl fall in love with lower primates.)
this stereotype – the guys who hates women until he finds the right one – isn’t just gross; it’s kind of a dangerous lie. i’ve never met a creep who was just one kate hudson encounter away from being a great catch. it’s insulting to men, i think, to imply that they need kate hudson to turn them. that they have to be tricked into wanting love at all. and it’s insulting to love to imply that this is the point. falling in love isn’t about turning a bad person good.
When she was little, Hadley used to sneak into Dad's office at home, which was lined with bookshelves that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, alWhen she was little, Hadley used to sneak into Dad's office at home, which was lined with bookshelves that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, all of them stacked with peeling paperbacks and hardcovers with cracked spines. She was only six the first time he found her sitting in his armchair with her stuffed elephant and a copy of A Christmas Carol, poring over it as intently as if she were considering it for her dissertation.
"What're you reading?" he'd asked, leaning against the doorframe and taking off his glasses.
"Yeah?" he asked, trying not to smile. "What story?"
"It's about a girl and her elephant," Hadley informed him matter-of-factly.
"Is that right?"
"Yes," she said. "And they go on a trip together, on a bike, but then the elephant runs away, and she cries so hard that someone brings her a flower."
Dad crossed the room and in a single practiced motion lifted her from the chair--Hadley clinging desperately to the slender book--until, suddenly, she was sitting on his lap.
"What happens next?" he asked.
"The elephant finds her again."
"He gets a cupcake. And they live happily ever after."
"That sounds like a great story."
Hadley squeezed the fraying elephant on her lap. "It was."
"Do you want me to read you another one?" he asked, gently taking the book from her and flipping to the first page. "It's about Christmas."
She settled back into the soft flannel of his shirt, and he began to read.
It wasn't even the story itself that she loved; she didn't understand half the words and often felt lost in the winding sentences. It was the gruff sound of her father's voice, the funny accents he did for each character, the way he let her turn the pages. Every night after dinner they would read together in the stillness of the study. Sometimes Mom would come stand at the door with a dish towel in her hand and a half-smile on her face as she listened, but mostly it was just the two of them.
Even when she was old enough to read herself, they still tackled the classics together, moving from Anna Karenina to Pride and Prejudice to The Grapes of Wrath as if traveling across the globe itself, leaving holes in the bookshelves like missing teeth.
And later, when it started to become clear that she cared more about soccer practice and phone privileges than Jane Austen or Walt Whitman, when the hour turned into a half hour and every night turned into every other, it no longer mattered. The stories had become a part of her by then; they stuck to her bones like a good meal, bloomed inside of her like a garden. They were as deep and meaningful as any other trait Dad had passed along to her: her blue eyes, her straw-colored hair, the sprinkling of freckles across her nose.
Often he would come home with books for her, for Christmas or her birthday, or for no particular occasion at all, some of them early editions with beautiful gold trim, others used paperbacks bought for a dollar or two on a street corner. Mom always looked exasperated, especially when it was a new copy of one that he already had in his study.
"This house is about two dictionaries away from caving in," she'd say, "and you're buying duplicates?"
But Hadley understood. It wasn't that she was meant to read them all. Maybe someday she would, but for now, it was more the gesture itself. He was giving her the most important thing he could, the only way he knew how. He was a professor, a lover of stories, and he was buildng her a library in the same way other men might build their daughters houses.