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Oh, Anna (main character). I ached for you on every page. When I was your age I remember having no idea what was around the corner. I wanted to hug you and tell you everything would work out. But the story did that for me. I didn't expect a wise old monkey, or a talking dog. I didn't expect the very clever magical realism, but it all fit in so beautifully. This is what a novel should be. A work of art. I requested an ARC for an honest review. What a lovely memory to carry with me. ( )
I bought this for myself, but I kept thinking how important it is for my younger sister to read this. Zonked Out covers all the important subjects we young people are already talking about, just at a higher lever, a level that provides options, and important insight. Not sure if Mr. Benzehabe is a therapist, but I get the idea that teen therapy has been worked into the plot. Still entertaining, but highly educational. A very entertaining read. Lots of humor, lots of plot twists. Really enjoyed the heart of this story. Lots of tender moments. ( )
This is that kind of book that leaves you loving life. At a time when Anna Wiley most needs a cool social group, she’s forced to look after a grandfather with bigger problems than hers. His rare condition causes dreams to dissipate from beneath his feet, dropping him in unexpected and sometimes dangerous places: Somnium Siccatum. Each morning a new knock at the door guarantees a policeman with her grandfather by the scruff of the neck . . . and yet another public embarrassment. An uncommon story tilting toward the bizarre side of a June Christmas. A comedy of family flaws, revelations, and finally acceptance that could only play out between a priggish grandfather and his beloved granddaughter. ( )
Información procedente del conocimiento común inglés.Edita para encontrar en tu idioma.
The bargain is, I do homework and I won’t get grounded.
Citas
Información procedente del conocimiento común inglés.Edita para encontrar en tu idioma.
I have no idea why I dream such things. I’ve never waltzed in a fluffy dress. I’ve never waltzed with a boy. I’d like to do that someday, maybe get a prom picture and show it to my children. I wasn’t such a nerd. Here’s proof, I’ll explain. pg97
My dance partner keeps reminding me not to stare at the orchestra. He’s perfectly content . . . because he likes me . . . just the way I am. And in this exquisite moment, I like who I am. Everything is so perfect, until I look up and see his face. Arnold! Can’t I have a private dream where nobody intrudes from my real world? pg96
I think I’m gonna miss this guy. He gets me a little amped-up, but it’s never boring since he arrived. pg96
I sort of get Mom’s unspoken signals: don’t argue the point. That’s the hard part because he’s wrong. He’s wrong a lot. Can two opposing arguments be true at the same time? All at once, it hits me: he’s toying with us. He almost got me. I feel a little chuckle bubbling inside, proud that I’ve put it all together. He doesn’t believe this is Mexico. He doesn’t think everything north slants south. He’s forcing me to think by throwing tiny logic-loopholes at me. He’s a mind-games guy. This is his way of inviting me to come out and play, and it’s fun . . . in a sick way . . . but my kind of sick. pg95
Mom pushes an open palm between us. A truce signal, I guess. Dad says a blessing over our meal, then Grandfather is off to the races with his knife and fork. Small wonder they don’t spark. pg94
He looks around, extremely pleased with what he sees. “Dining? All together at the common table? Well then, let us dash to the cupboards and gather our evening victuals.” pg92
“Guest?” The very word sticks in my throat. “I can’t wait for Grandfather to leave, but I’m starting to worry that I’ll miss him.” “I warned you about that. He’s a master of delusion. A delusion can grow on you.” I look out the window, watching Dad and Bosco poolside, smoking pipes, and reading newspapers. “Then, who is Dad with?” “That’s my point. I should have warned your dad too. As long as Grandfather Pettibone is here, our lives will be topsy-turvy. We can still be polite, and we can still lead civilized lives.” pg92
On the walk home, all I’m thinking about is Dotty’s advantages: no meddling parents, all those extra body parts . . . and John. Why would anyone like her feel like a failure? And the giga-shocker, why suicide? pg90
“Maybe I should move away. Start all over.” Only an hour earlier that was my wish. Now, her moving away isn’t so attractive. “Or maybe you could just learn to say no.” pg88
By the time we graduated junior high, the other kids observed I wasn’t as pretty as Dotty. It wasn’t as though Dotty and I hadn’t noticed. She would never bring up such a thing, but I was constantly batting away comparisons by troublemakers. I thought all that would fade away after we became adults, in high school. It didn’t. pg87
Maybe I should respect Dotty’s struggle. Things are probably confusing on her new plateau of life. It’s possible that a wiser woman, someone with a degree in Dealing with Popular Girls, would view Dotty’s life more sympathetically. They might conclude I should pity her. They would be wrong. Adults are wrong all the time. I think I’ve mentioned that. pg84
As crazy as my home life is, school life is crazier. Nothing mystifies Americans more than teenage girls. Teenage girls mystify teenage girls. pg83
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Información procedente del conocimiento común inglés.Edita para encontrar en tu idioma.
People need—for lack of better words—some sort of a Santa Claus, an unearned surprise.” I won’t ask more, pushing her further into tonight’s details. She’s not ready for that. Neither am I.