Being Nikki by Meg Cabot

The always-prolific Meg Cabot has delivered yet another semi-addictive chick-lit parfait.¹ Em Watts Repeats Herself A Lot Being Nikki is the second installment in the Airhead series, and it meanders quite a bit more than the first (you can read our review here). At times I lost track of what was going on—which is strange, because not all that much was going on. Though there was definitely a plot, the main text of the book consisted mostly of the main character, Em Watts, agonizing over everything in minute detail. It seemed like, at times, Meg Cabot forgot that she had already made a certain point, and so she made it again, making Em's thoughts strangely circular and utterly annoying.²
And, though she has big problems (her brain was transplanted into someone else's body, for example, and her possibly-murderous employer has her under surveillance 24/7) the tone of the book somehow makes her sound like just another 16-year-old chick-lit protagonist whining about trivialities.
This is my main problem with Meg Cabot. Though she is (in my opinion) a pretty okay writer, and though her books are inexplicably addictive, I consistently want to gouge her main characters' eyes out because they WILL NOT SHUT UP. They worry constantly about idiotic things, they jump to nonsensical conclusions, and most of all, every single one of them seems at times to be immeasurably stupid. I have a suspicion that all of these character flaws traits are only there to move the plot forward—often a Meg Cabot book would have no conflict at all if the protagonist weren't so mind-bogglingly blind to everything that is going on around her. Though the Airhead books don't fall prey to this as much as, say, the Princess Diaries books do, they are still unfortunate victims.
Help! I'm Trapped in a Supermodel's Body Being Nikki is a fun read, if you like chick lit and/or Meg Cabot and/or whining and stupidity, but not if you like sane and/or sensible main characters.
Put it near the bottom of your pile.



Not agonizing, not running in inexplicable mental circles, not jumping to ludicrous conclusions, and yours,
Eli


I will never read this book. Well, maybe if you paid me.

Yours,
Rae

1. I'm not saying the book is made out delicious delicious granola. I just couldn't think of a noun that worked in this sentence so I, er, picked one at random. You can feel free to go read another blog now.
2. Oh god, that was almost alliteration. I am so sorry.