Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

The first couple of days of school haven’t been this stressful in years, but having a new 7th grader starting junior high and worrying about just about everything is wearing,  you know?  And of course, Saturday was my second girlie’s birthday, and that was a whole different kind of busy.  The good news is that she pretty much loves what she got–new Barbies are getting played with frequently and her new graphic novel barely left her hands for the first 24 hours.  (She likes to just start over when she finishes, AND study the pictures, too.)  The unfortunate news is that I missed TWO posts, which is why you’re getting a quick one on an even-numbered day (books to review are stacking up).  For tonight I chose Teen Boat!, by Dave Roman and John Green, because I am plenty excited to make this one GO AWAY.

Sadly, I’m not even kidding.  John Green’s graphic novels for younger readers have been delightful–Hippopotamister was universally loved at my house–and I was hoping that something with a tagline that read “The angst of being a teen/The thrill of being a boat!” would be weirdly funny.  Weird, yes, because seriously, the kid turns into a boat.  AND everyone knows about it–Teen Boat (TB, for short) is his actual name.  Funny, well–it had its moments, I suppose, but I couldn’t get past TB’s whiny personality (“no one understands what it’s like to be me!”) and his complete and utter shallowness.  Girls are viewed as objects of varying attractiveness, except for his best friend, whom he cheerfully uses without any reciprocity of friendship whatsoever.  Perhaps teenage boys will like this or find this relatable–a kid who’s always trying to get the cute girl but loses out to the jock, and whose best (female) friend adores him and gives him support and caring without receiving anything in return from him AT ALL–but I desperately hope not.  The friend’s perspective is probably supposed to give balance, but TB learns nothing, and whining “no one understands me” when you make no effort to be the sort of person you want people to be for you is extraordinarily off-putting.  Maybe being a 40-year-old mom of 3 girls (and one boy) makes me overly critical, but I don’t need my kiddos reading about shallow and callous jerks who mostly whine about other people being callous to them.  I say skip this one.