I Got Class(ics) is a meme created here at Attack the Stacks which celebrates the awesome and oft-ridiculous books I enjoyed while growing up. Some are actual classics, most are personal classics.
Jane Retton would never let anyone read her diary filled with her wildest secrets. Then somehow her diary ended up at school. And soon, everyone was reading her final, shocking entry. Some girls would simply die. Other girls would kill. But Jane Retton–she would do both.
As per usual with I Got Class(ics) these reviews are done in a clever (not clever) bullet point list style instead of a regular review that utilizes actual paragraphs. There will also be spoilers.
- First of all, let’s talk about that cover. I think this is not the original cover but one that was done to “improve” upon the original. What in the actual balls is going on here? Is that the lost city of Atlantis? And if so, why is it on fire? Or is the water itself on fire? Is that the Cuyahoga River? Whose dinghy is on the right? Is it the Love Boat? Is that creepy disembodied head floating in the water, or did she see a ghost? Medusa, is that you? Has there ever been a creepier disembodied head in the history of all forms of media?
- Who actually says “gimme a kiss” when they want some affection? I mean, aside from your mother trying to plant one on you at Christmas? Maybe it’s just me, but I like a little more annunciation and a little less bossiness when someone is requesting a kiss from me.
- This book made me really glad that I was never a diary person. Think about it. Pretty much every sitcom or drama EVER has had an episode where somebody reads someone else’s diary and angst and/or wackiness ensues. Keeping a diary never ends well. Never. Best case scenario: your parents find your diary and you have to explain the term “sex bbq.” Worst case scenario: someone photocopies pages where you have written a fictional story about getting naked & sweaty with your boyfriend and you end up hatching an elaborate plan to make them think that they’ve accidentally killed you.
- Going to guess that Christopher Pike is a dog owner and not a cat owner, because at one point he actually refers to cats as “bloodthirsty.” Really? Are they domestic house cats or rabid pumas? The only time my cats have ever approached anything close to bloodthirsty is when I break out the catnip, and once I actually supply them with product they forget that I exist and busy themselves mainlining it.
- School counselor RED FLAG ALERT. At one point after the diary business has transpired he actually tells her that he’s proud of her for expressing her sexuality. Putting aside that no teacher has ever said this to a student ever without ending up behind bars, the dude would have a job for, like, ten seconds. He came off as basically Hugh Hefner, Guidance Counselor.
- Patty Brane is the bitch of the century. I guess I’d be a miserable hag too if my last name was BRANE.
- This book is peppered with leftover slang from the 70s to the point that I was actually giggling over it. I kept waiting for one character to invite another over to his pad so that they could have a rap session.
- Putting aside the complete ludicrousness of it – not to mention the utter futility and pointlessness – Jane’s plan is actually kind of ingenious. I enjoy her ideas and would like to subscribe to her newsletter.
- The thing that started this chain reaction of fuckery in motion – resulting in evil genius plots, deaths, burned homes, ruined trips, arrests, near murders, etc. – is herpes. HERPES. I shit you not. I guess they didn’t have antibiotics in the late 80s.
You’re my boy, Christopher Pike. Forever.