Racecar Start, Jalopy Ending

This book took off like a shot for me, but as the story progressed, things definitely took a turn. I found the protagonist extremely sympathetic initially, only to end up really abhoring her. I felt her dramatic U-turn was implausible, which made her extreme actions then seem unlikely. The story is about an orphan who is taken in by an unlikely benefactress when all her other family can't be bothered. As tenuous as their initial relationship is, they eventually form a bond that seems to have possibilities. When her beloved, but morally questionable brother meets his sister's new guardian, however, things get more complicated. Love the beginning, but hated the end.

Instead of Sitting on Them

White people have so much power that it's embarrassing. Even women. But in

general, women tend to think of ourselves as shotgun riders in the car of life, and for good reason--the world is set up to keep us thinking that way. Stay in your lane, ride in that seat, listen to the tunes pre-selected for you. In this book, Jenna Arnold shakes us out of our passenger complacency (or tries to) with her no-nonsense perspective. She tells us of how important we all are, as just regular folks, and that we're all just ordinary together and can get things DONE. Don't be intimidated! You are powerful! So inspiring! The truth of the matter is, though, that she not only looks like a movie star, but has done everything aside from swimming to the bottom of the Mariana Trench and establishing a colony on Mars. Everything else, though? Check, check and check. I was clicking along with her until I realized I wouldn't be qualified to take out her trash. Nevertheless, she brings a difficult topic to the table and serves it up well. White women have a ton of power that could make real change happen were it leveraged. Kudos to her for trying to do just that.

Quirkiest of the Quirks

Do you like to have fun? Do you love to laugh? Allie Brosh, delivers all that and more in this, her second book. She takes stories from her past and flight-of-ideas them into cartoon form, then whisks you away on tangential whims, but somehow ends up where she started, managing to make sense. However, all of that fun and lightheartedness is definitely shielding us/her from the underbelly of the story(ies). As you travel deeper into the book, between the lines you see the pain she dealt (deals?) with to create these wacky narratives. While I love her work, part of me wishes we lived in the same town and I could have a quiet chat with her on a Sunday morning. I'm in equal parts awed by her and worried about her. Nevertheless, perhaps writing is her own form of therapy, and I will most certainly continue to support her by buying/reading/recommending anything that flows out of her pen.