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A review by jossgrace
Beach Blondes: A Summer Novel by Katherine Applegate
2.0
I have gotten into a habit of rereading books I’ve liked from my adolescence and since this was the book I held to the highest standard for quite some time, I needed to take a little trip down memory lane.
This book was the first book I binged read so memorably that the paperback copy I had was in tatters by the end of it. The spine was broken in about 4 or 5 places, where the book seamlessly opened up to reveal the parts I read and reread countless times. It was the book I made my sister and best friends read with hope that it would make them feel even a fraction of what this book made me feel.
Now at least 12 years down the line? I cannot say this book made me feel the same way that it did then.
There are definitely some books that resonate more when you are a certain age. Books that were written for your level of teenage maturity and aren’t meant for cynics who’ve had their bubble bursted a few too many times. These books don’t become immediately bad just when you stop relating to them, but somehow lose their lustre all the same. These books become the ones you look back on with fond memories but you know are no longer meant for you anymore. And that is totally okay.
Other books however, hold true to the feeling you had the first time you read them. Sometimes even blossoming with your matured years. Those books are truly rare to find but are a lesson in brilliant writing. In the YA genre, this becomes even more difficult to find because these books rely on topics relating to a certain age group which may not remain relevant when their audience ages. Sarah Dessen has been a master in this genre, in my humble opinion, because many of her coming of age stories still hit their mark with me no matter how many times I read them.
Unfortunately, Beach Blondes happens to be part of the former category. Not to say the writing or the story itself was horrible (not that it was great mind you...), it just was no longer for me.
This book used to such a joy to read. Summer used to be this bubbly, energetic character I longed to be. Someone who had boys gravitating around her like moths to flame. Marques’ confidence and spunk made me want to be more forthcoming and tenacious. And Diana’s scepticism and strength, made my own teen angst feel justifiable.
This book reinforced my belief that friendship overcame everything. It made me feel happy and hopeful for the future...
...And then the future came around and therein lies the rub. Now when I read it, Summer’s bright personality is dulled by her naïveté towards life, Marque’s spunkiness is prickled with her distaste for other people’s ‘drama’, and Diana’s brokenness becomes overshadowed by her petty jealousies towards her cousin and angst towards her parents...which probably makes her the only real relatable teenage character in this book. The boys who used to make me swoon, now make me gag. They are all nauseating horrid...which isn’t all that surprising considering how prepubescent boys and their cheesy come-ons just no longer appeal to me (and thank god for that because this would be VERY problematic if they still did).
Honestly though, I could really break down and critique the areas where it lost me (insta love at the top of that list, followed shortly by Marques’ golden one-liners: “you like the sun huh?” Or “so you laugh huh?” WHO TALKS LIKE THAT?!) but I am worried that I’ll just end up tearing it even more to shreds than I already am, and only serve in making myself hate loving this book in the first place. You can’t rewrite history. I clearly had every reason to love this book what I was a teenager, and this may very well have been the book that started my love of the YA genre. If that is the case, then fuck it. This book deserves all the love and applause regardless of it’s shortcomings. We all have to start somewhere.
So I am going to stop hating on it and just let this one off with a bittersweet farewell. T’was nice knowing you, but your girl is no longer in Oz any longer. Back to the shelf you go.
This is getting a lacklustre 2.5 stars
This book was the first book I binged read so memorably that the paperback copy I had was in tatters by the end of it. The spine was broken in about 4 or 5 places, where the book seamlessly opened up to reveal the parts I read and reread countless times. It was the book I made my sister and best friends read with hope that it would make them feel even a fraction of what this book made me feel.
Now at least 12 years down the line? I cannot say this book made me feel the same way that it did then.
There are definitely some books that resonate more when you are a certain age. Books that were written for your level of teenage maturity and aren’t meant for cynics who’ve had their bubble bursted a few too many times. These books don’t become immediately bad just when you stop relating to them, but somehow lose their lustre all the same. These books become the ones you look back on with fond memories but you know are no longer meant for you anymore. And that is totally okay.
Other books however, hold true to the feeling you had the first time you read them. Sometimes even blossoming with your matured years. Those books are truly rare to find but are a lesson in brilliant writing. In the YA genre, this becomes even more difficult to find because these books rely on topics relating to a certain age group which may not remain relevant when their audience ages. Sarah Dessen has been a master in this genre, in my humble opinion, because many of her coming of age stories still hit their mark with me no matter how many times I read them.
Unfortunately, Beach Blondes happens to be part of the former category. Not to say the writing or the story itself was horrible (not that it was great mind you...), it just was no longer for me.
This book used to such a joy to read. Summer used to be this bubbly, energetic character I longed to be. Someone who had boys gravitating around her like moths to flame. Marques’ confidence and spunk made me want to be more forthcoming and tenacious. And Diana’s scepticism and strength, made my own teen angst feel justifiable.
This book reinforced my belief that friendship overcame everything. It made me feel happy and hopeful for the future...
...And then the future came around and therein lies the rub. Now when I read it, Summer’s bright personality is dulled by her naïveté towards life, Marque’s spunkiness is prickled with her distaste for other people’s ‘drama’, and Diana’s brokenness becomes overshadowed by her petty jealousies towards her cousin and angst towards her parents...which probably makes her the only real relatable teenage character in this book. The boys who used to make me swoon, now make me gag. They are all nauseating horrid...which isn’t all that surprising considering how prepubescent boys and their cheesy come-ons just no longer appeal to me (and thank god for that because this would be VERY problematic if they still did).
Honestly though, I could really break down and critique the areas where it lost me (insta love at the top of that list, followed shortly by Marques’ golden one-liners: “you like the sun huh?” Or “so you laugh huh?” WHO TALKS LIKE THAT?!) but I am worried that I’ll just end up tearing it even more to shreds than I already am, and only serve in making myself hate loving this book in the first place. You can’t rewrite history. I clearly had every reason to love this book what I was a teenager, and this may very well have been the book that started my love of the YA genre. If that is the case, then fuck it. This book deserves all the love and applause regardless of it’s shortcomings. We all have to start somewhere.
So I am going to stop hating on it and just let this one off with a bittersweet farewell. T’was nice knowing you, but your girl is no longer in Oz any longer. Back to the shelf you go.
This is getting a lacklustre 2.5 stars