The very worst thing about this book was the horrifyingly clunky prose, and the author's need to describe everything in exhaustive detail in the most boring way imaginable, like a fourteen-year-old's daily entries in her diary (I kept a diary a lot like this at fourteen - I think it might have been better written). I mean, almost the entire first half of the book described the first term of the first year of the protagonist's college degree. I was so close to giving up at that half-way point. I'm pretty sure I only continued out of hatred, or at the very least spite.
Yeah, so a large part of the reason I didn't like it is because I really have no interest in hearing about the minutiae of life at some liberal arts college in the midwest. I guess I can see how it could be nice for some people to remind them of their college experience (though I can't see how anyone could enjoy this prose), but I'm still in that college experience, and all it does is remind me of the worst things about it. The claustrophobia, the cliquey-ness, the incredibly boring rounds of dates. At least my university is in the middle of a bustling metropolis rather than the middle of nowhere. But I'm nowhere near being able to romanticise anything yet, and may never be able to. Secret: I'm kind of antisocial - more like Danny Chin than Janet, anyway.
I liked the second half of the book much better than the first, because the pace sped up. Though we could still keep up to date with the important events in Janet's life! Such as which subjects she was studying in which terms, and what she thought of them, mainly by reading sweeping and unsubtle statements that once again reminded me of nothing so much as a teenager's diary, when they've got bored or busy and can only be bothered updating once a month. "This term I have English with Mr Dunne. We studied Tim Winton's short stories, I didn't like them at first, but in the end I did." Any writer who is actually good should be able to incorporate this information in the text without having to state it outright.
In fairness, though, I should state that this book really really really made me want to study classical Greek. But this is not by any means the origin of this desire (reading actual Greek texts was that), it just reminded me of it. I also think it's fair to state that Dean really overuses the semi-colon and that was pretty annoying.
The last third of the book, however, was actually almost good, and I read the last chapter fast (it wasn't quite un-putdownable, but I didn't want to put it down, either). Probably this was because she finally started doing some bulk fantasy work, which was really what I was there for. I was disappointed, though, when I read the ballad reprinted at the end (I hadn't read it before), at how literally she interpreted it. It was just Tam Lin, transplanted directly to a midwestern liberal arts college. And I think Pamela Dean was there to write a book about the experience of studying at a midwestern liberal arts college, not to write a serious and interesting retelling of an incredibly powerful fairy tale (of the old sort, sans gossamer wings and little tutus). And frankly, that was disappointing.
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I borrowed this from the library on impulse because someone mentioned it on a thread about the Best Book Evah, Fire and Hemlock (I thought it was Mariel but turns out it was someone I don't know). I hate it so far. I hate the way it's written and it's one of those infinitely annoying American books set in liberal arts colleges that seems to be set in a parallel universe very similar to our own, but where nothing quite makes sense. Even the language they use is different, and slighly perplexing. Like all that crap about propping up bookshelves with books?? And all the weird private jokes that seemed to be inserted in there, designed to be entirely comprehensible to everyone except me? And seriously, what's the deal with Peg? She's a sophomore, right? Sophomore means second year, right? (see, I've been carefully studying my vocabulary.) So why would a second year girl be so enthusiastic about making friends with first years? (sorry, I mean freshmen [If I was speaking out loud right now I would have leant heavily and scornfully on that word.].) IT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE, but nothing about college life does, really, even in real life, which is why I moved out of the damn place, narrowly escaping insanity.