Trinkets -- Kirsten Smith
I admit it: when I see blurbs from the likes of Ellen Page and Anna Faris, my side eye starts acting up.
Does that make me a huge snob? Possibly. But although I tend to take ANY blurb with a whole handful of salt, I tend to be way more suspicious of those written by random celebrities, rather than those written by reviewers or other authors. (And of course, in this case, neither one is "random": Ellen Page was in Whip It and Anna Faris was in The House Bunny, both of which Kirsten Smith wrote.)
But, I'm happy to report that Trinkets is entirely enjoyable, and it's certainly the feel-good-ing-est book about shoplifting that I've ever read.
Tabitha, Elodie, and Moe are about as different as three girls can be: Tabitha is one half of their high school's power couple, she's the Queen Bee and she's got a list of social obligations a mile long; Elodie is new to town, quiet and shy; and Moe hangs out with the metal-loving troublemakers.
Despite their external differences, the three girls have two big things in common: 1. they've all got much more going on at home and in their heads than any of their peers know, and 2. due to getting caught stealing (<--is it in your head? it's in mine.), they're all attending a mandatory shoplifiting rehabilitation program.
What are you and Rachelle up to tonight? Jenna asks.
I shrug and say, Nothing, probably just watching movies.
because that's the way it is with parents;
you tell them what they want to hear
and everything else
you leave out.
Brady puts an arm around my waist and pinches the spot where a teeny bit of flesh bubbles out over my jeans. I'm only a size 6, but clearly this is his way of telling me I'm fat. Sometimes it seems like guys really hate girls, with all the little things they say and do to try and get us to hate ourselves.
I fight the urge to hit him and instead turn and plant a kiss on his perfect mouth. I've seen my mom do it to my dad when he's being a dick. She tries to trick him with affection into being in a good mood. Sometimes it even works.
Yesterday I waved at him when I saw him walking into his house with his parents. He didn't wave back. I heard his mom say, "Who's that?" His response: "I don't know." Hey, asshole, if you're going to pretend not to know me, that's fine, but I live next door to you. Couldn't you just say, "I think she lives next door to us"? I don't need him to proclaim undying love for me or tell the whole world that we make out and sometimes do even more than that, but at least admit I'm a person you're familiar with. Douche.
I had extremely minor quibbles—example: Winona Ryder gets namedropped as a famous shoplifter. Is she even a household name anymore? In this context, it seems like Lindsay Lohan would have made more sense, no?—but overall, it's a solid-if-not-particularly-original read about breaking social boundaries, the differences between our public face and our private self, the power of friendship, healing and family and lurrrve. I loved that while the new friendships become a source of strength and confidence for them, each girl really works through her own issues separately. (Especially Tabitha, in regards to her abusive d-bag of a boyfriend.)
Boppy and funny and smart and just... CUTE.
Book source: Bought.