But Camp Bellflower is an impossible place for a girl to fall in love with another girl, and Maggie�s savant-like proficiency at the camp�s rifle range is the only thing keeping her heart from exploding. A split-second of innocent physical contact pulls Maggie into a gut-twisting love for an older, wiser, and most surprising of all (at least to Maggie), female counselor named Erin. She�s from Atlanta, she�s never kissed a guy, she�s into Backstreet Boys in a really deep way, and her long summer days are full of a pleasant, peaceful nothing. At once romantic and devastating, brutally honest and full of humor, this graphic-novel memoir is a debut of the rarest sort.Maggie Thrash has spent basically every summer of her fifteen-year-old life at the one-hundred-year-old Camp Bellflower for Girls, set deep in the heart of Appalachia. If you want to get : Honor Girl: A Graphic Memoir (Sept.PDF DOWNLOAD Honor Girl: A Graphic Memoir
This is the kind of memoir that stays with readers for days. Much of the memoir’s piquancy comes from the collisions between the camp’s ideal of Southern womanhood, the campers’ clannishness, and Maggie’s faith in herself as she becomes, incongruously, the camp’s best rifle shot.
“Blythe said they were pretty much doing it with a racket.” Thrash writes with an intoxicating mix of candor, irony, and fresh “Apparently they were on the tennis court,” two campers gossip. Maggie is unprepared for the turmoil of first love, and the camp is, to put it mildly, unwelcoming to teens questioning their sexuality. Everything changes when a random caress from an older counselor, Erin, awakens a storm of desire. Thrash portrays her 15-year-old self as a cynical Atlanta pre-cotillion deb who has been attending the same Appalachian sleepaway camp for years. The good news is that her dialogue is so smart and snappy that a few pages in, they’ll find it doesn’t matter.
Newcomer Thrash’s graphic storytelling style, with its blank-eyed, manga-esque characters, might surprise readers accustomed to more polish.
0 kommentar(er)
