Well... maybe it's because I didn't read the first one (A Girl Named Zippy). Or maybe that wouldn't have mattered, I don't know, but either way I just wasn't too into this one. It was fine. Cute anecdotes about childhood, but nothing particularly outstanding or noteworthy... just, fine.
I only have vague recollections of this book, but they are that I wanted to like it more and just couldn't.
This memoir was hard to read, but only because it was accurate. (If that makes sense? You're talking to the girl who will turn the channel when people on TV shows start doing things that are self-sabotaging because it makes her uncomfortable, so take that with a grain of sugar, I guess.) It was a...
It's one of those books that you just sit back and totally enjoy. Why? Perhaps it's the truth among the pages that makes you laugh, or the stories that you wished you could have been a part of or the adventures that Zippy writes about that leave you with the "Really, that actually happened?" feeling...
Didn't really like the plot or the characters, but it was written well so ehh....
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