I picked this up from a leave one/take one shelf at a cafe in Alabama, and was super excited about it, forgetting that V.C. Andrews® books are no longer written by V.C. Andrews. I normally don’t trash books here, but this installment of the “V.C. Andrews” Shooting Stars miniseries is just awful. It has V.C. Andrews themes of religious repression, incest, artistically gifted young girls, and first lusts. It seems like it’s aimed at a younger audience than Flowers in the Attic and the non-® V.C. Andrews admittedly trashy books were. The 1st person narrator, about to graduate from high school, refers to her parents as Mommy and Daddy throughout. I assume the author (or computer) won’t be insulted if he/she/it reads this review, because clearly this is one of those things that you laugh at while you’re writing it. That’s not to say that some people won’t enjoy reading it, with the same guilty pleasure as one watches the worst reality television.
Just to illustrate devoted the author is to Andrews’ formula, check out this fashion statement, bearing in mind the book was published in 2001:
I ended up choosing a round-neck sleeveless shell top in all-over paisley print with shades of fuschia, burgundy, and black. To wear with it I bought a stretchy, pull-on, knee-length skirt with one-inch ruffle at the hem. To complete the outfit, I chose platform shoes that had crocheted uppers with stretch elastic ankle straps and a ridged sole.
CATS: No, just an oafish bastard uncle who, SPOILER, turns out to be legit, and possibly watches Honey she accidentally admire her naked body in her room with the window shade open