Finding Cinderella (Hopeless, novella)
Simon & Schuster (AU: 12th March 2014; UK: 13th March 2014; US & CA: 18th March 2014)
Buy (US) Buy (UK) Buy (CA) Buy (Worldwide)
Colleen Hoover clearly has a way with meet-cute and witty banter, so a light, fluffy romance is something she does well. But when she adds angst to her stories, traumatic events instead come across as contrived for drama’s sake.
My usually-vague memory surprisingly remembers a lot of annoying things about Finding Cinderella, though I read it over a month ago:
There is a lot of entries and exits via windows. I’m not familiar with Texan window fixtures, but my Australian house’s windows wind out, and there’s a flywire screen. No such winding-windows or screens in this book. Perhaps Texas is a magical oasis in which insects, bugs, and whatnot can’t enter the house via open, screen-free windows.
The high school lacks security. Again, I have no experience with Texas schools, but in my school staff locked and unlocked each room’s doors as they were needed. Thus no unlocked maintenance closet. Alas, in this novella the janitorial room is free for all. I would’ve thought Texas schools would have way more security. Huh.
People, we need to talk about logic. I know, this book is fiction, but in order to fully enjoy a story, it has to make sense to me, even if I don’t necessarily agree with the characters’ actions. And this novella does not make sense. Admittedly, it’s been so long since I read Hopeless that I don’t remember if Six’s storyline featured there. But it is here. And it does not make sense.
Oh, and there’s a hell of a lot of slut-shaming in this novel. Six slut-shames herself. But then she reclaims the word, or whatever, and doesn’t get fussed when addressed as such.
Now, Six doesn’t want to be a slut. She just wants to be loved. And she thinks guys will love her if she roots them. Or she already thinks they love her, so she roots them and then learns that they don’t. Or whatever. I’m not saying I understand, but let’s just go along with this for the time being.
She doesn’t know his name. She doesn’t know what he looks like (though she’s felt him up, so she knows he’s fit). They’ve talked somewhat (without identifying information), and made out more in these few, brief sessions in the dark room while they’re wagging class.