When CG Silverman moves to a decidedly more affluent town, she decides to reinvent herself. Before she knows what is happening, she has befriended Alona, Grace, and Sammie, the resident "popular" girls. A simple game of Truth or Dare at a sleepover sets in motion a chain of events that CG could never have anticipated.
When I began reading It Started with a Dare, I anticipated a funny, sometimes poignant coming-of-age story. In the barest of senses, this book delivered on that front. What I didn't realize: That CG's personal journey would be powered by pathological lying, smugness, and an often callous disregard for others. CG finds herself, all right--after lying to everyone around her for months, the chickens finally come home to roost and she becomes a total outcast at school. The alone time forces her to confront her bad behavior, but at no point does her remorse feel particularly genuine. Even when pondering how she has hurt people, she finds ways to make digs at them, to keep them firmly rooted in villain roles (e.g., referring disparagingly to Alona as "Her Majesty," insinuating that Grace is stupid after pulling a truly vicious MySpace prank on her, etc.).
I had a strong reaction to this book. I am, as I have indicated in other reviews, a character-driven reader. If the protagonist doesn't grab me, I have a difficult time getting through a story. Unfortunately, that was the case here. I went out of my way, grasping at straws, to find something to like about CG. I never did.
The chief problem for me in this book was characterization. The characters herein are, for the most part, caricatures--typecast people with a typecast set of traits/problems. The rich people are snobby and bad. The poor people are genuine and misunderstood. So not only does this story break no new ground while exploring the high school social hierarchy, but it falls into some pretty egregious stereotyping. Throughout, I found that CG behaved just as badly as, if not worse than, her rich friends, but let herself off the hook because she was poor and shopped at Salvation Army. In other words, because she was poor, her bad behavior was somehow less bad.
At one point, after the unpopular Glory takes a now-equally-unpopular CG back as a friend, CG eviscerates her former frenemy behind her back: "Grace is nowhere near as smart as she seems. I thought she had a brain in there somewhere, but she let me down. As far as I can see, she's always gonna be somebody's puppet, whether the one pulling the strings happens to be Jordan or Alona or some other unlucky schmuck she's only using to fill the hole inside her soul. And she'll never stop exploiting that emptiness as her excuse to be a first-class bitch." (300) This is tough to swallow. CG perpetually exploits her socioeconomic status as an excuse to be, at times, an even bigger "bitch" than Grace. Because she wears Janis Joplin T-shirts, however, she is somehow justified in her lying and vicious pranking.
Perhaps most alarming is Glory's and CG's kvetching about Sammie, who is undergoing treatment for bulimia. Glory dismisses her erstwhile best friend as "chronically image-obsessed" (301), even after schooling CG earlier about how Sammie's eating disorder is a disease she can't control.
This encapsulates my other problem with this book: at various junctures, there is real potential for depth, and the book takes a more surface-skimming route. Instead of pursuing the eating disorder angle in any depth, the "heroines" resort to trashing the afflicted behind her back. Instead of showing us why CG feels like nobody (the emotion that incites her "incredible" journey), the narrative simply tells us repeatedly that she feels like nobody. Instead of pushing the boundaries of the high school hierarchy, the book falls comfortably into well-traveled character types. Instead of condemning some of the uglier behaviors of high school girls, the book inadvertently validates them [e.g., CG continuing to trash the girls she has betrayed behind their backs, and dismissing the English teacher whose life she almost destroyed with an ongoing prank as a "total dorkmonger who bores me to tears" (182):].
The responsibility of a coming-of-age comedy like this one is to establish a character whose happy ending we crave. It is what keeps us turning the pages. However, when CG's life finally began to work out in her favor, I was plagued with the lingering conviction that she deserved none of it. The problem: the story takes too long to showcase her remorse (which isn't particularly genuine, anyway--even when her parents confront her about her lies, she finds ways to manipulate their emotions), too long to give any indication of why CG behaves as she does, too long to probe the characters in any depth.
An aside: My linguistic diet consists of enough salt to give a healthy person a heart attack, but even I found the cussing in this book to be excessive, perhaps even gratuitous.
Lindsay Faith Rech is a strong writer with enormous potential. The dialogue in this book was snappy, the underlying concept compelling and worthy of exploration. The problem, for me, lay in the character development. I never connected with CG. In fact, when Alex finally kissed her, I found myself thinking, "He'd be better off with someone like Glory."
(Disclaimer: I received the galley proofs of this title from Houghton Mifflin Harcourt for review.)