This book makes me want to run outside and scream at the top of my lungs. It makes me want to tie men's shoelaces together and guffaw as I watch them fall over. It makes me want to put on a short skirt and flirt with men only to end up kissing their girlfriends. It makes me want to throw something while laughing maniacally.
There are a few small instances where race is brought into the conversation, and it's not done well. At all. And the text didn't require race at those moments either, so to have dropped in a line or two, or in one case to show a very poor grasp of Audre Lorde's work, felt very disjointed and misguided. That is the reason this isn't five stars.
There are a few small instances where race is brought into the conversation, and it's not done well. At all. And the text didn't require race at those moments either, so to have dropped in a line or two, or in one case to show a very poor grasp of Audre Lorde's work, felt very disjointed and misguided. That is the reason this isn't five stars.
