
It is very brief and to the point (only a little under 200 pages). It was actually written by a man from the perspective of a teenage girl (although it was more from the perspective of a human than a woman, per se). I think he did a very good job - he didn't go in-depth on the trials and tribulations of being an adolescent woman but moreso on the struggle of her and her family after losing the youngest sister on 9/11/01 in a separate accident.
Anyhow, in a short period of time, he really crafted some interesting and highly believeable characters. I don't really know how to describe how he did it so well all that well, but he just did. It was fiction but not boring, predictable, generic, or over-dramatic. And it appears as though most everyone on amazon.com agrees with me.
Anyhow, kind of embarrassing. I am NOT an emotional person. I honestly cannot remember ever crying at a book or movie (Titanic, Romeo and Juliet, or any of the other traditional tearjerkers didn't do it for me). In fact, normally these types that try too hard to go for the emotional factor just make me want to groan and roll my eyes. However, something about this book got to me.
Not a big deal, ONLY I was reading it on the el while packed in like a sardine ON THE WAY TO WORK. I was, for a moment, one of THOSE GIRLS. I'm sure the people around me wondered what had happened to me this morning (if they read the book, they might understand). Em, THIS is why they make waterproof mascara. Anyhow, I get to work before almost everyone else I work with, so I was able to do enough damage control in the necessary amount of time. Crisis averted.
In fact, I'm going to have to cut this post short because I'm writing it in a public place right now - work - and thinking about this book is starting to get to me again.
Anyhow. Move along, nothing to see here.