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A review by oldpondnewfrog
The Opposite of Me by Sarah Pekkanen
1.0
Ye olde one-star—yet it says something that I did finish it.
"How did you know which life was the right one for you when there were so many to choose from? I wondered."
The thought evident in the writing, through its immaturity, engenders mistrust of the spiritually worthwhile messages—take risks, do work you love, know that the people in your life are complicated individuals and not just flat stereotypes—that it attempts to send.
Just as the style undermines these messages, so does the plot. Is living with your parents and taking the first new job that comes along really "jumping"? Is working for a dating agency really work worth loving for our heroine? If characters who are meant to be complicated and real in this universe still seem like sitcom stereotypes, are people in real life who are probably complicated and real but who seem to be sitcom stereotypes also juts sitcom stereotypes? I hope the answers to all of those is no, but the book suggests otherwise. I'm stuck trying to figure out how a book so bad was so readable; I flew through it, and it kept me wanting more until about the last third, where I started to finally get upset. It's kind of like browsing the Internet, which especially at first tends to feel good and interesting, but soon I feel terrible yet keep on browsing, perhaps in the vain hope that something might change.
The main character pays so much attention to what she wears, what she buys, especially the brands or the stores she buys from. This is fine and makes sense when she works for an advertising agency, but I would like to have seen that care fade as she becomes a new person. And she just buys so much. Even when she stages a picnic on the roof of her high school, her love interest is sitting on "the soft cushion I'd chosen at Pier 1 earlier today." It pains me. On top of plain materialism, the book is also so heavily saturated with product placements that I can't help but wonder if these companies had some kind of deal with the publishers. Or are the brands in Lindsey's life really such an essential window into her character and her cultural scene? The only thing they show me is that after the dramatic action comes to a close, Lindsay is not as transformed as the author would suggest. Instead, she is just the same person with a new job, new clothes, a new house, and possibly a new boyfriend.
"I sometimes wondered: if Alex wasn't my sister, would I be a different person?"
"I grinned and laid the bill the waitress had dropped on the table, leaving a good tip to make up for camping out so long."
"I popped the cork and watched the vapor rise like a ghost from the mouth of the bottle."
This was well worth reading. It helps me see what went wrong, at least for me, and helps me appreciate the books I do like, which are like breathing cleaner air.
"How did you know which life was the right one for you when there were so many to choose from? I wondered."
The thought evident in the writing, through its immaturity, engenders mistrust of the spiritually worthwhile messages—take risks, do work you love, know that the people in your life are complicated individuals and not just flat stereotypes—that it attempts to send.
Just as the style undermines these messages, so does the plot. Is living with your parents and taking the first new job that comes along really "jumping"? Is working for a dating agency really work worth loving for our heroine? If characters who are meant to be complicated and real in this universe still seem like sitcom stereotypes, are people in real life who are probably complicated and real but who seem to be sitcom stereotypes also juts sitcom stereotypes? I hope the answers to all of those is no, but the book suggests otherwise. I'm stuck trying to figure out how a book so bad was so readable; I flew through it, and it kept me wanting more until about the last third, where I started to finally get upset. It's kind of like browsing the Internet, which especially at first tends to feel good and interesting, but soon I feel terrible yet keep on browsing, perhaps in the vain hope that something might change.
The main character pays so much attention to what she wears, what she buys, especially the brands or the stores she buys from. This is fine and makes sense when she works for an advertising agency, but I would like to have seen that care fade as she becomes a new person. And she just buys so much. Even when she stages a picnic on the roof of her high school, her love interest is sitting on "the soft cushion I'd chosen at Pier 1 earlier today." It pains me. On top of plain materialism, the book is also so heavily saturated with product placements that I can't help but wonder if these companies had some kind of deal with the publishers. Or are the brands in Lindsey's life really such an essential window into her character and her cultural scene? The only thing they show me is that after the dramatic action comes to a close, Lindsay is not as transformed as the author would suggest. Instead, she is just the same person with a new job, new clothes, a new house, and possibly a new boyfriend.
"I sometimes wondered: if Alex wasn't my sister, would I be a different person?"
"I grinned and laid the bill the waitress had dropped on the table, leaving a good tip to make up for camping out so long."
"I popped the cork and watched the vapor rise like a ghost from the mouth of the bottle."
This was well worth reading. It helps me see what went wrong, at least for me, and helps me appreciate the books I do like, which are like breathing cleaner air.