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The Daily Wildcat

The Daily Wildcat

 

    Book Review: Naked Barbies on book covers can be deceiving

    Book Review: Naked Barbies on book covers can be deceiving

    Nothing seduces me to read a book more than a hunky nude Ken doll on the cover, but unfortunately, Daria Snadowsky’s novel “”Anatomy of a Boyfriend”” has about as much substance as the toy on the cover.

    Written for ages 14 and up, this simple read is unimpressive with its ideas and uncomplicated mode of storytelling. Incoming freshmen may find this to be a great summer read while bronzing on the beach, but now that school has started, the banality of a high school love affair that doesn’t survive the first semester of college makes this book more useful to them as toilet paper.

    The book’s title references the fact that the main character, Dominique (although everyone calls her “”Dom,”” and only once is it acknowledged that this is kinky), is really into biology and anatomy.

    “”Anatomy of a Boyfriend
    Daria Snadowsky
    1 1/2 star

    Dominique often describes things in a very clinical manner, and it is possible that the author chose to tell the story in a plain and artless way to emphasize Dom’s sterility. She even goes so far as to marvel at the bland taste of semen, considering it contains many vitamins.

    This labored approach only adds to book’s juvenile quality of the book. The wording is as simple as in a children’s book, the only difference being that this book talks about sex. Snadowsky deserves some applause for trying to deal with the awkwardness of first-time lovers, but all of the sex talks usually end up being hilarious because they come out of nowhere. The randomness reaches its peak when Dominique wakes up thinking about her boyfriend and starts touching herself.

    Dominique briskly walks the reader through the tales and heartbreak of her first real relationship as if it was taken straight from her flowery, tear-soaked journal. The problem with this is that journals can be uninteresting to people who did not write them, and they are meant to be hidden away for later self-reflection.

    This book is mostly semi-autobiographical and would probably be more interesting if the writing style wasn’t so elementary. Dominique’s only-child syndrome is more apparent than a bursting pimple on the tip of a nose, making the reader want to smack some sense into her rather than relate to and feel sorry for her.

    The book does, however, preach some good lessons, like “”Don’t be a whiny brat,”” “”Don’t lie about the things you like to impress someone”” and “”You better give your boyfriend head or he’ll leave you.”” OK, the last one is only slightly implied, but all in all, the novel reads like your teenage sister’s boring diary.

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