5/31/2023 0 Comments Afterparty![]() The kind that can't watch a movie unless she is the right age for it. So far she has been know as a goody good girl. She is a pretty cool girl once we really get to know her. So in Afterparty we follow this chick Emma who is coming from Canada to California. Whoop! So I'm excited that Ann asked me to review her book and so glad I said yes! This book was sooooo good. I just wasn't convinced by these personalities.Īnyways, this may just be an "it's not you it's me" situation, I don't know, but this writing is not for me.Īn advance copy was provided by the publisher for review.įor more of my reviews, visit my blog at Xpresso Reads And they do random things like steal a horse. Then think of the worst case of a "bad influence best friend", and here we are. ![]() Think of the most overbearing, strict father ever. And now we're in her head!Īside from the writing I found the story had a lot of potential but the characters were just too much. It's like the narrator is the kind of girl who rambles on and on without ever taking a breath. "I curl up on the floor of my closet, waiting for some kind of epiphany to propel me to a higher plane of consciousness, or at least for some state of being in which I don’t feel like total crap, but it’s hard to achieve spiritual enlightenment between a pile of unwashed leotards and the hems of vintage skirts." "He would appear to have spent the better part of the summer in resorts on the Mediterranean with Arif, who does a lot of waterskiing on an unidentified European lake, Dylan (literally) in tow, and eating dinner with twenty-seven other people somewhere that houses have extremely large dining rooms. "My dad thinks malls are playgrounds of sick, unfettered materialism, thus eliminating any possibility that he’ll stumble on me teetering around in these sandals and small dresses while Siobhan screams at men who leer at her (This is the rule: They have to leer first) in languages other than English." "Also in the good column, all the way on top, I cart sacks of brown rice around and teach eager eighty-year-olds (and kids who only know how to operate, say, late-model Macs) how to log in donations on the world’s oldest, slowest computer at the food bank where I volunteer - the place that my dad, in a giant breach of good-father decorum, slips up and calls Temple Beth Boob Job." "My dad grabs the backpack he has filled with brightly colored plastic school supplies, well suited to the carefree twelve-year-old I never was, and we wind down to Sunset, past the flower beds on the median strip at Sunset Plaza, past the Viper Room and the Roxy, back into the hills toward Latimer." ![]() Karp, the head of the Albert Whitbread Institute board of directors, and his wife, who are mounting a campaign to convince my dad that Los Angeles, far from being Sin City, is actually a lot like Heaven. ![]() "A hostess in white linen leads us to wicker club chairs on the deck next to Dr. "Just as she’s telling me how welcome I’d be in levels of the temple higher than the basement where the food bank is, say in youth group, where I could be part of my own little community, my dad - who volunteers himself every couple of weeks, partly to help heal the world and partly to check up on me - bundles me into the car and starts making cracks about the place." I read this 3 times and I still can't figure out what's wrong with these wrinkles but I'm fairly sure she should get medication. "The skin on my fingers wrinkles in exact inverse proportion to the unfolding of the furrows in my brain where all the sludge has lodged, until my mind is a blank plane that stretches like that fat blue California sky, all the way to the almost invisible horizon. I found a lot of sentences were unnecessarily long, filled with parenthetical expressions and/or endless rambles that made it exhausting to read. The writing style keeps me too detached and distracted. I noticed fairly early on that the writing was not my favorite but I still kept going another 100 pages, and I just can't get into it. This follow-up to Ann Redisch Stampler's Where It Began, reveals how those who know us best can hurt us most. And it all comes to a head at the infamous Afterparty, where debauchery rages and an intense, inescapable confrontation ends in a plummet from the rooftop. Their high-stakes pacts are spinning out of control. It's more than just Dylan, the boy who comes between them. In other words, she's everything Emma is not.īecause as intoxicating as her secret life may be, when Emma begins to make her own decisions, Siobhan starts to unravel. Because Siobhan is fun and alluring and experienced and lives on the edge. That's why meeting Siobhan is the best thing that ever happened to her.and the most dangerous. Always the dutiful daughter to an overprotective father, she is the antithesis of her mother - whose name her dad won't even say out loud.
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