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320 pages, Hardcover
First published March 26, 2013
"‘Don’t whine to your spouse about your daily troubles. He’s had a harder day providing for you and your children.’ This is what you’re aspiring to? To be some guy’s house slave?”This book is vapid, at best. It's cute, sure, if you don't really want to think about it too much. There was a lot lacking from this book, mainly, depth. The main character comes off as a whiny, selfish child who can't stop crying, instead of an actual young woman growing up and trying to overcome her heartbreak in a realistic way. It tries too hard to be cute, and the "vintage" premise was executed so halfheartedly that there was really no fucking point.
Ginnie hops out of her seat. “I hope you’re not romanticizing this too much. That prefeminist movement crap is scary.”
“What do you know about the feminist movement?” Um, what did I know? I’d meant to read some books on that too, but when I thought of old feminists, I thought of armpit hair and bra burning and lots of angry, political yelling, which is not nearly as fun as party dresses and school clubs.
If she has time? Doesn’t she get what I’m telling her? [Grandma] has changed, and not for the better. I know she’s still dealing with the loss of Grandpa, but we’re all dealing with something, and she should be more aware of that. More aware of me.This is what I want to do to the main character.

"I am so over this decade, this century.”Mallory has the most wonderful boyfriend in the world. Jeremy is a dream come true, even if his cousin, Oliver is pretty awesome, too! I mean, right in the beginnig, we get this lovely little passage about dear ole Oliver.
“I don’t think this century is your problem.”
“You’re right. Technology is the problem.”
“But you’re using technology right now,” Ginnie says.
I hold my phone out, giving the gadget a look of severe disgust. I switch to speaker, so I don’t have to get too close to The Battery-Operated Evil. “Yep. And do you know what cell phones cause? Cancer....And people die texting while driving. They’re villainous contraptions. Computers? Oh man, Internet predators lurk, lurk, online."
I don’t know much about Oliver, but who does? I think that mysterious aloofness is part of his image. He was nice enough to give me a birthday card that night with a twenty-dollar gift card to Outback. Outback? That’s the way to get in good with your cousin’s girl.It's not like it's a hint that Oliver's going to be the future love interest while she's still dating Jeremy or anything, no! *rolls eyes*
“Really? You’re hungry?” he asks. “Even after Pizza Hut?”He makes her do his homework for him. This guy is a keeper. Best. Boyfriend. Ever.
“That was lunchtime.”
“You had two slices. I swear, on the weekends you eat more than the entire wrestling team.”
“If Jeremy didn’t have a computer or the Internet, he wouldn’t have met BubbleYum. If I didn’t have this cell phone, strangers couldn’t text me threats. Technology is the reason my life is falling apart.” My voice rises. I’ve never felt this passionate about anything before—the world, or my world at least, is suddenly so much clearer, like everything before was a big surface float, and now, for the first time, I’m diving into the deep end of life.Uh huh. So dramatic. Much passion. Wow. Solution = go back to the past, specifically, 1962. Mallory finds a list that her 16-year old grandmother made in 1962, and seeks to emulate it.
Junior Year: Back-to-School Resolutions:Uh. Ok. It doesn't quite turn out as planned, because the only thing Mallory has down pat is the clothes. Sixties dresses are so cute! Other stuff...doesn't work quite well. For one thing, she really didn't think the situation through at all. Like how the fuck is she supposed to give up the Internet when she SIGNED UP FOR A CLASS ABOUT THE INTERNET.
1. Run for pep squad secretary
2. Host a fancy dinner party/soiree
3. Sew a dress for homecoming
4. Find a steady
5. Do something dangerous
“You knew when you signed up for the class that most of this unit involves the Internet.”And she throws a fucking fit when her sister Ginnie actually makes her follow through on her promise and bans her from using technology.
I feel close to tears. When I made my oath, I didn’t think about schoolwork or other justified reasons to use technology.
Another Post-it note where my alarm clock used to be.Who cares about historical accuracy, anyway! Block all the bad stuff out!
LED digital alarm clocks weren’t available until the mid-seventies, and they sure didn’t have docking stations.
NOT AUTHENTIC.
Ginnie’s handwriting is on another note on my now computer-less desk.
Personal computer? Please.
NOT AUTHENTIC.
My sister, my insane sister, has removed every bit of technology not available fifty years ago, which basically is all technology in my room. Like my phone. Not my cell, but the cordless landline. Now I have no contact with the outside world.
I check out the Industrial Revolution books, but don’t bother with the sixties stuff. I’m worried history will only discredit my sunshiny hypothesis.Uh huh. Way to make a plan and not follow through with it. Not to mention, Mallory cheats on both her "vintage" vow and her paper---she plagiarizes from the Internet.
I type Industrial Revolution right onto the main page search engine, and instantly a million possibilities pop up. Thank you. Thank you. Ask and you shall receive. I could probably type in Completed Industrial Revolution Paper and find five reports to combine into one.So really, what's the fucking point?
“Because I like being around you.” He’s still looking out the window, and I wonder if he’s focusing on one object when he says this and what that object is. “I probably shouldn’t, but I do. And I can’t say why. I mean, I can think of a bunch of reasons why.”Mallory:
The way he describes me, like I’m this vapid girl who doesn’t care about deeper things … that’s so off.Except, it's not off. Mallory behaves like an idiot child.


I should push a little more than usual, make this something worthwhile. I’m here already, right?She sets a challenge for herself, to "go vintage" only she constantly whines about it, and constantly cheats on it. And her "living dangerously?"
Wow, so this is what follow-through feels like.
I just need to figure out living dangerously, which might involve eating the cream cheese and sausage mixture Ginnie is presently concocting.Pfffffffffft. To take a phrase from my friend Emily May. This is Sunday School rebellion. It's sad, pathetic, and so insipid it's not even cute.
I can do something dangerous.
Or I can take a sewing class at the community center.
“It doesn’t sound fine. Are you sure you don’t want to talk?”Her Mother:
“No,” I say flatly. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Don’t worry.”
Mom pinches her glossed lips together. “If there’s any way I can help—”
“You can’t,” I say.
She thinks she has a right to know my everything just because she had a forty-hour natural labor with me. My life would be so much easier if she would have just taken that stupid epidural.

When we walk into a store, guys always check out my mom first, taking in her tight body and large chest before noticing that she’s in her forties, not twenties.Her mother is a hard working mom who is the family breadwinner. She is a caring mom, and Mallory, in her selfish way, can't see it. She constantly complain about her mom not understanding her, when she's doing everything she can to shut her out whenever her mother asks her any sort of question about her life. Mallory comes off as nothing more but a selfish, stubborn, childish girl.
Why am I thinking about Jeremy?She is. She constantly thinks about Jeremy after their breakup, which is annoying, but believable.
I’m not.
Why am I thinking about Oliver?
I’m not.
I look down at my wedge, and notice the head of lettuce looks like Jeremy’s head, that the bits of bacon could easily be his eyes, the tomatoes his mouth, and—But meanwhile, she's got feelings for Oliver, too. Jeremy is doing everything he can to get Mallory back, while Oliver plays the kind, understanding, all sorts of supportive friend who wants to be something more.
My boyfriend is cheating on me with a cyberwife.
I click on a book and chuck it at his head. His icon starts to bleed. I laugh. This game is addictive.
He looks marginally tortured. Before I can let pity creep in, I have to remind myself that his torture is self-inflicted and only .083 percent of what I feel.
"Five minutes of talking to you is more entertaining than a lifetime knowing Jeremy. So either you came to your senses, or he did something stupid."
He's written an extensive list in tiny, slanted caps. No writing tablet or smartphone. He's a pen-and-paper lister, a beautiful and dying breed.
I've seen people laugh at funerals, so why not be giddy post-breakup? Especially around a guy who makes life feel so effortless, like a meteor could crash into his car and we would just shrug and take the bus.


