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Books & Chocolate

I love to read just about anything, as long as it's fiction. I read for me - that means I read what I want, when I want. My reviews tend to mostly be based on how I'm able to personally connect with the story/characters. They are not intended to influence someone to read, or not read, a particular book. I always encourage people to take a chance and make up your own mind.

 

Oh, and I love chocolate.

Sweet Girl

Sweet Girl - Rachel Hollis

Sweet Girl, like the first book in this series, Party Girl, was a fun read. It's well written and holds a good pace.

 

The main issue I had with Sweet Girl was the main character, Max. I knew from the first book that Max was closed off, rude, condescending, and basically a downer about everything. However, in this book the reader is given a chance to be in her head and I just didn't like her. I get that the author was painting her to be this way because of some tragic event in her past, and I know that people do go to that extreme to cope. But it was just too much - and that drove me to believe that she really thinks these things about others and uses the tragedy as an excuse for why it's OK to be rudely judgmental toward everyone.

 

Example: In chapter two alone Max introduces us to:

 

1) two coworkers she refers to as "Singer-Songwriter" and "I'm Not Really a Waitress". Her 'defense' for why she doesn't learn her coworkers names is because they try to push their agenda on them (such as "I'm also an actress...")

 

2) "a group of Eurotrash at the end of the bar" 

 

3) the fact that beer is a pedestrian order... not because she has any issue with beer, just the tourists who order it because they aren't up on the LA standard of how to interpret strange cocktails or don't want to pay the high price tags. Basically she assumes all tourists only order beer for these reasons, because how would she know the real reason (like maybe they just really like beer...) unless she asked each time? 

 

4) "two overplucked, over-forty divorcees" - she refers to them as this before they even get to the bar. How does she know they are divorcees? Again, I'm left to assume she's passed judgment simply by a look alone.

 

All of that was just in the first half of the second chapter. There's more throughout the book. 

 

I've said before that don't have to like a character to enjoy the book. The thing is, I personally feel that the author wanted us to believe that on the inside Max was a good person who just happened to have a tough exterior. However with all those internal judgemental statements it was hard for me to believe she was anything other than an immature, self-centered, spoiled brat. That was a contradiction I just couldn't get past. Either allow her to be a judgemental snob without an excuse to try and justify her behavior, or don't give her such ugly internal thoughts if she truly is just putting up a front on the outside. And in the last chapter, Max is condescending toward someone over her name, "is that with a y or i?" I think this was supposed to be justified because she was jealous, but really it just showed me that she had no growth in how she treated anyone outside of her direct circle of family/friends.

 

I was also torn by how it ended. I liked that Max basically found herself through her work and it wasn't her love interest, Taylor, who helped her discover her confidence. Sure he was the one she talked to and he helped convince her to try, but she was the one who did it. For the majority of the book Taylor and Max are just friends and like how their relationship evolved. It felt natural. I liked that it was her friends and family that also helped her evolve in letting go of her past. Basically, I liked that it wasn't all about the boy. That she could be who she was because of all the people she had around her, and because of herself, and not just because some boy loved her.

 

And yet, the end of the book took it all right back to a boy. I won't spoil it. Sure it's a sweet moment, but it kind of negated somve of what I was really liking about the book.