What was I saying? Oh, yeah.
WTF IS WRONG WITH THIS BOOK.
It's by the "author" Zoey Dean, who, as previously mentioned, is a pseudonym for a company that churns these books out for the sole purpose of making money and selling the rights to make TV shows out of them (e.g., Gossip Girl). So I wasn't expecting much. But somehow it still fell short.
PLOT: Mac is the daughter of a famous talent agent and has model siblings. I don't mean they're perfect: I mean they're actual models. Where's Mac's dad? Who knows? Boys have no purpose in this book other than to be obsessive crush fodder, so the only time we see one is when one of the girls is agonizing over how to get him to fall in love with her. Oh, no, hold on. I found Mac's dad. He's mentioned in the third person on page six. He's a screenwriter, and his name is Lanyard. How the hell could I forget a man named Lanyard?? Oh, that's right, because he never shows up again.
Anyway, Mac feels like a nobody in her family of over-achievers and makes up for it by being a controlling beyotch. Her entire life centers around scheming how to be elected social chair at her middle school. Although I have to say, she'd probably be good at it, since she's used to planning every aspect of her friends' lives (who, since they have essentially no identity, I'll call dancer-friend and surfer-friend). She plans their outings and parties, picks their clothes, and gets them to sync their iPhones (as a sane human being, I had no idea what this meant before this book) so "Mac could keep track of her friends and let them know where to be and when." (p.3) Amazingly, this is never brought up as a problem. Mac's friends/codependent groupies are more than happy to let her tell them what to do, and are totally helpless without her advice. And it's not like they just put up with it to get invited to exclusive parties or rub shoulders with the rich and famous -- these girls are the children of celebrities as well. They must just be gluttons for punishment and/or totally stupid. I'm so glad I never had a "friend" like this when I was a kid. I don't care how many premieres she got me into: bitch would've had gum in her hair and a wedgie by day two.
Mac's rival for the position is a girl named Ruby, whom Mac and the clones hate because she a) is as rich as Mac, b) is as bitchy as Mac, and c) used to be chubby, but comes back from Paris weighing fifty pounds less. Yep, really. Fat jokes galore. It's never too young to teach kids the value of being thin and pretty. Later on, one of the girls works with Ruby and actually becomes friends with her, but of course that can't go anywhere because what would Mac say?
To prove she's not just a pint-size harpy and worthy of the position (why is this junior high office so important to her? Oh, you'll see. You'll see.), Mac decides to become a talent agent like her mom, despite the fact that she's barely old enough to see a Harry Potter film in theaters without an adult. So she picks up a girl on vacation from Iowa (who is naturally, like, a total rube who thinks gingham dresses and Cons are cute) and sets out to make her a star. The book basically goes from there and culminates in an ending where everything works out Mac's way, despite the fact that in the real world nothing like that could ever happen. I'm pretty exhausted by trying to care about this plot anymore, so let's just get to some terrible quotes and unbelievable situations that place this book squarely in the shlit category.
Ch. 1: Six upper-class brands mentioned in the space of four paragraphs. Reeeeeee-diculous.
Ch. 2: Iowa girl's mom wins the money for the vacation in a 4th of July apple pie bake-off. Really. 'Cause that's what people do in the Midwest, right? I guess the Iowa Lottery didn't convey the proper spirit of disregard for middle America.
Ch. 8: Mac partially reveals why becoming social chair is so important: "You know how fun it is to be popular and be invited to all the boys' parties? Well, if we're not top-tier, you can kiss all that buh-bye." How could anyone write this kind of dialogue without laughing out loud? This would be hilarious satire, but she means it for real. On the same page, dancer-friend mentioned being a ballerina en pointe in fourth grade. This would never, ever happen, unless you like the idea of destroying your bones and ruining your feet forever. In that case, have at it.
Oh, here we go. The real reason Mac's obsessed with the upcoming election. It's because this one middle school position will effectively determine the rest of her life. Bet you didn't see that coming. I'm going to do you a favor and condense her shallow and nonsensical argument into this simple flow chart: don't win social chair --> DIE ALONE.
Here's the expanded version: don't win 8th grade social chair --> won't be cool entering high school --> won't become prom queen (it's pointed out by dancer-friend in a rare moment of sanity that their school won't have a prom queen, but she totally gets steamrolled by crazy ranting Mac) --> won't be cool in college --> won't marry someone from college or have a career.
In one of the maybe two LOL moments of the book (both unintentional), Mac whines that "everyone knows that 70 percent of people marry someone they meet in college and make their most important future professional connections." Excuse me while I change, because my shirt is drenched in tears of mirth.
Ch. 16: I'm sorry, but what store accepts a credit card from a thirteen-year-old, even in Beverly Hills?
This chapter also includes the line where I had to stop reading and take a calming breath, before throwing the book across the room: "The silence was broken as a man with a dyed-black bowl haircut walked over and stood in front of Mac... He looked like Wilma from Scooby-Doo."
*crickets chirping*
Who the hell is Wilma?? Do they mean Velma? In that case, this is a great description, except that Velma's a hair is brown... and not a bowl cut. Are they serious with this? Where is your fact checker, Zoey Dean? Even assuming this series is written by thirty-somethings, how the hell do you mess up the name and description of a classic cartoon character, especially one that resurfaced in a 2002 movie?
Perhaps I'm being unreasonable here. Maybe these writers weren't allowed to watch TV as children, so as adults they tend to mix up the characters that comprise the American cartoon consciousness. Maybe they just mixed up Velma with Wilma from The Flintstones. Except that she's a freaking redhead.
I give up.
This guy later on develops a weird German accent, despite being Italian: "Vash 'er and bring 'er back to me!" (He's the hairstylist, naturally. The Italian hairstylist wearing a satin corset.)
Later there's a birthday party. A "Sweet Thirteen" birthday party. Moments into it, I lost the will to live.
Mac drags Iowa girl to a tea bar (aka, place that only sells tea) to go over her audition, prompting this gem in IG's mind: "It seemed very sophisticated and yet... boring. She secretly hoped [surfer-friend] and [dancer-friend] would show up and they'd all go get pancakes."
DON'T WE ALL.
Ch. 24: Surfer-friend has a crush on a surfer boy. She asks him to put sunscreen on her back. Later on, while wearing a backless dress (a totally appropriate choice for a thirteen-year-old), it is pointed out that he strategically used the sunscreen to burn his initials on her back. Instead of vowing to avoid this psychopath forever like a saner girl would've done, surfer-friend thinks this is totes romantic: "What else could that mean, except that Austin wanted the world to know she was his?"
Dafuq did I just read?
I think it means he's a thirteen-year-old boy and possible future sex criminal, but that's just me. Call me crazy, but I wouldn't find it all attractive if some dude tagged me like a Chicago boxcar.
Towards the end, the friends have a huge blow-up. Surfer-friend and dancer-friend do their usual sleepover without inviting Mac, but have a lame time because they literally can't even remember how to make popcorn and watch trashy TV without her say-so. Mac somehow convinces Iowa girl's mom that she will make IG a star, so naturally momster is totally cool with leaving her daughter in LA with these strangers while she heads home, probably to bake more pies. Everyone makes up without actually apologizing or changing anything.
There are two more books in the Talent series. Maybe I'll find them; then again, maybe I'll ride a skateboard down the highway. It would be equally painful but would probably make me hate myself less for doing it.
We'll see.
