At some point during the semester, my ability to read anything over the level of a soap opera breaks down. After reading 50 pages on Renaissance architecture, I need some brain candy, usually in the form of chick lit.
I really like Meg Cabot - her adult books are usually very funny and quick to read. This one though, was babble. There was only one main character, Lizzie, who narrated the entire book in a constant stream-of-consciousness sorority girl style. The story seemed ripped off of Bridget Jones, as in Lizzie was bumbling and always said the wrong thing, but ultimately came off as endearing and got the guy in the end.
Chick lit is by nature mindless, but I like it to have some substance. This book really had none.
Rating: 2 of 5
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