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A sequel ten years in the making....
This book is horribly, unspeakably, laughably bad. Like, poke-your-eyes-out-over-bad-fanfiction bad. A the-creator-doesn't-even-know-her-own-canon bad. So bad you have to laugh, lest you cry, because these characters, as thin as they were in the original, campy, escapist '80s series, are completely unrecognizable.
That said, this review is both spot on and hilarious. This book needed less weepy Liz and more Miss Lila Fuckin' Fowler.
In a way, reading this horrible trainwreck of a sequel made me even more glad that Ann M. Martin had the insight to do a BSC prequel, instead. I'm almost afraid of how she sees her beloved characters, all grown up - I'm glad we still have the freedom to think up our own endings and expand our own head-canons =) Kudos, Ann! Your infinite wisdom, indeed...
This book is horribly, unspeakably, laughably bad. Like, poke-your-eyes-out-over-bad-fanfiction bad. A the-creator-doesn't-even-know-her-own-canon bad. So bad you have to laugh, lest you cry, because these characters, as thin as they were in the original, campy, escapist '80s series, are completely unrecognizable.
That said, this review is both spot on and hilarious. This book needed less weepy Liz and more Miss Lila Fuckin' Fowler.
In a way, reading this horrible trainwreck of a sequel made me even more glad that Ann M. Martin had the insight to do a BSC prequel, instead. I'm almost afraid of how she sees her beloved characters, all grown up - I'm glad we still have the freedom to think up our own endings and expand our own head-canons =) Kudos, Ann! Your infinite wisdom, indeed...
