I have read Sarah Dessen. And you, miss, are no Sarah Dessen.
The fact that Deb Caletti is often listed as a read-alike author for Sarah Dessen is basically the reason I picked this up. I did like the premise, too: Cricket's mom has jilted two previous husbands-to-be, both jerks, and now that she's about to marry a really good guy, Dan, Cricket is nervous that running away might have become a habit. Her family, the guy's family, and their respective dogs are spending a week (or so - I'm not sure exactly how long) at a big lodge on the beach with two wacky innkeepers . . . and the innkeepers' hot son. Who doesn't make things simpler for Cricket, who is trying to sort out her feelings about her longtime boyfriend, from whom she's currently on a break while she figures out how they'll deal with her leaving for college.
The story is told in two ways: chapters of regular narration and chapters that are supposed to be long e-mails to said boyfriend, Janssen. The former was okay, but the latter . . . can you strain anything by rolling your eyes too much or too hard? I not only didn't believe any teen would write e-mails like these (which generally took up many pages and were simultaneously too eloquent and too sappy to ring true), but was annoyed by the repetition of heavy-handed emotional revelations. Concepts like "love" are easy to idealize! We wish they were simple, but sometimes they're not! Dogs and humans have an amazing bond! Maybe we can learn a lot from them!
And okay, can we talk for a sec about how obsessed Cricket is with dogs? It's another reason I find her letters to Janssen so tiresome. She uses dog behavior as a metaphor for human behavior in every. Single. One. Usually at length. Sure, the device of them writing "dog lists" (lists of accomplishments by dogs, or facts about dogs, or whatever) back and forth is kind of cute, but it gets old, especially since we don't see Janssen's letters but the author makes Cricket bend over backward to reply to them with letters that tell the reader all the important stuff he said. Does anyone really do that in correspondence? Reiterate what the other person's last letter said? I doubt it.
Back to the emotional revelations. I do like a few of these, like when Cricket muses about apologies. When you apologize, she says, you feel like you're giving someone something, but actually, you're asking them to give you something: they're supposed to forgive you, to make you feel better about something you did wrong. I hadn't really thought of that.
And one of my favorite moments of Cricket's is when she snaps at Amy during the minigolf game. (Amy is Good Guy Dan's younger daughter by his previous marriage, age fifteen; her older sister Hailey is eighteen.) All she says is, "Jeez, Amy. Your attitude," in a mean voice, when Amy's been bitching it up for the whole book so far, so I'd say Cricket is totally justified. But then Amy crumples and starts crying. And I totally respect that Cricket feels bad only for the trouble this causes her mom and Dan, and not for the fact that a bratty-as-heck fifteen-year-old can't take being called out on her own crap. Cricket reflects that some bullies have this technique: they dish it out and dish it out, but as soon as someone even points out what they're doing, they fall into tears and magically become the victims. Kudos to Cricket for recognizing that and not putting up with it.
I'll extend the kudos to Caletti, too, for not making Amy come around. I think it's tempting sometimes to have everyone turn out nice in the end, and it can be satisfying to read when it's done right, but I can't stand it when it seems to be done just for its own sake. It doesn't feel real. There are people in the world who are just petty and mean. If you're nice to them, they're still petty and mean. If you freaking save their lives, THEY'RE STILL PETTY AND MEAN. They might grow and change a bit, but they're not going to do a 180, especially not in one book (the main part of which covers, like, a week). This is yet another thing I appreciate about the Harry Potter books: Rowling is not afraid to make Draco just be a jerk. Some people can come around, like Dudley sort of does in the end. But if all the jerks come around, well, it would be nice if real life looked like that, but it doesn't. And I think, in a way, that it's unhelpful to show a world that looks like that, because it sort of puts it on the people who are suffering from Jerky Person's attitude to get them to change: "Maybe if I were just even nicer to her/him . . ." There's a point where you just don't put up with someone's B.S., and I like it when a book isn't afraid to show that behavior.
Now, on to another issue I had, and the reason this book made me cry: Old Characters Who Are Sometimes Animals Dying to Teach Everyone Something.
If I were in publishing, I'd have a little quiz to run by the authors of books being pitched to me. It would go like this:
1. Does your book have any old characters, human or otherwise, who die? If yes, go on to 2.
2. Do these characters die in ways that could happen regardless of age (such as heroic last stands, random bombings, suicide for reason unrelated to age, etc.) or do their deaths relate directly to the fact that they are elderly? If the latter, go on to 3.
3. Do other characters, in a significant plot point, learn things, experience catharsis or closure, or find themselves brought together by these characters' deaths?
If the answer to 3 is yes, then congratulations: your book is going to have to be the most flawless, stellar, sparkling piece of impossibly perfect literature ever composed for me to consider it. Because I don't want to entirely rule out a book just because it contains this element, but I find the use of old characters' deaths as learning tools/plot devices rather offensive, not to mention predictable, and it has been done before. ALSO IT MAKES ME CRY, WHICH I HATE. When someone (especially an animal) dies in a book or movie, I cry, but I don't think, "Wow, what a moving story; I'm impressed it tapped into my emotions that way!" No. Because animal death is a cheap shot at my tear ducts. I WILL CRY. It's not an accomplishment to make me cry with animal death. It's like pushing a button that says, "Make Nic Cry." How hard is that?
I get that it's important for fiction to reflect experiences real people have to show them that these are normal and help them find ways to deal with them. However, as I say, dog death has been done. It's been done so thoroughly that even parodies of it have been done. We all know dogs die. It's one of the things that suck about real life. When you're writing fiction, though, it's not real life, and you don't have to include all the things that suck. I think having dogs still die in fiction is a bit of a wasted opportunity.
Plus, I think having older characters who then die of old age in a way that somehow benefits other characters (with a lesson about mortality, or whatever) belittles the life experiences of actual old people (and animals). They have a lot to offer besides dying! (I kind of love stories with feisty grandmas, because feisty fictional grandmas are fun and rarely die.)
I found the writing to be okay, but not as clever, concise, or well-balanced as Sarah Dessen's. Also, I'm not sure how realistic a couple of the teens' behavior is. Hailey and Amy are reeeally immature for eighteen and fifteen. Plus, Hailey shows her possessiveness re: her dad by, as soon as anyone approaches, going to hang onto his belt loops. What? To me, that doesn't say "possessive daughter" so much as "clingy creepily-young girlfriend." I was glad that, near the end, Cricket says something to her mom about Amy being fifteen, "not seven," and not acting like it, because it weirded me out that none of the book's other characters seemed to pick up on how young the two acted.
Also, there's kind of a lot of swearing in this book. Like, more than I'm used to in this kind of book. Maybe these people just aren't the same crowd as Dessen's characters, but I couldn't help but feel that Caletti threw in a lot of swear words to make her teens seem real, and it ended up making them seem immature, like they all had something to prove.
I'd like to point out, too, that Cricket declares that she hates to be judgmental, but if that's true, then gosh, she must be suffering a lot through this book, because she is all JUDGY JUDGY JUDGE I JUDGE YOU. A lot.
I may try another Caletti book, though, because I'm curious about whether she writes the same protagonist over and over with different names, as Dessen, I admit, sort of does. If not - if the other books feature people who feel really different - I might like them more.