Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret

This review is a chaotic mess of thoughts, but I gave up on trying to make it flow well.

I picked this book to see if it's truly as terrible as the people I know who've read it claimed. I've heard everything from older relatives claiming it was trashy to those in my age range saying it was worthless. To me, it's none of those things - and not as bad as I expected from what I'd heard - but also not a particularly good or engaging book, either.

At the core, this book is a story about a preteen girl named Margaret who's very naive. She falls into friendship with her new school's mean girls, succumbs to every ounce of peer pressure, bullies another girl, overreacts to everything, and is frankly kind of hypocritical. Her overly dramatic thought patterns are very authentically twelve-year-old girl, which was just as obnoxious to read as I'd expected, but her actual thoughts just weren't relatable to me. I dreaded my period as a kid, far from eager to deal with a mess of blood plaguing me once a month for most of my life, and it's one of the most absolutely bullshit parts of life as far as I'm concerned. I hated wearing bras, hated the awkwardness of developing breasts - still think they do more getting in the way than they're worth. None of my friends were eager for puberty, either. So Margaret and her friends felt alien to me with their single-minded obsessions. The melodrama was authentic, but I couldn't relate otherwise.

That said, I did relate to Margaret's complex relationship with religion. I've been the kid who doesn't know what religion to believe yet still prays. I've been the kid screaming to be left alone when overbearing relatives try to force their own religion on her. I've been the kid who feels outcast and confused because everyone around her is so devout and she doesn't know what to believe. The only difference is: I was mostly hiding my agnostic nature and everyone around me had a single religion, not a variety. I didn't want to be like everyone else; I just felt outcast. So things like Margaret trying to find a religion so she can “be normal” feel absurd to me.

I think this book has valid pieces for different kids, even nowadays. Just because I can't relate to everything, doesn't mean there aren't kids out there who can. But this just leaves so much to be desired, even as a story in general. The writing is good, but the storytelling is atrocious. Characters change morals and personalities to fit a last-minute dramatic element. Margaret exhibits uncharacteristic self-awareness so a mini-plot can be ‘resolved' within one chapter instead of being treated with depth and concern. The final chapter is a mad dash to an unsatisfying conclusion which does absolutely nothing to wrap up any of the book's loose threads.

And, most confusingly of all: The editing done to replace menstrual belts with sanitary pads helps with relevance, of course, but it wasn't complete. Without any mention of how antiquated the notion is, bits about the girls being “too young” for tampons are left in, including a mother denying her daughter a tampon (which they already have on hand) and making her use a washrag shoved in her panties until pads can be purchased. Apparently, this is part of a very dated obsession with fear that tampons can compromise virginity. The book doesn't mention this, nor does it act as if what the girl's mom did was wrong (or right). It's odd.

Overall, I don't hate this book nor do I like it, but I did come close to relegating it to the DNF pile several times due to the creepy and inappropriate teacher.

He begins the year by asking questions including what the students think of male teachers, then gets uncomfortably pushy with Margaret regarding one question where she mentioned hating religious holidays. (He even pulled the “it's just between us” act, which made my stranger danger alarms blare.) He also looks too long at the twelve-year-old girl who's already got breasts, chooses her to dance with when giving dance lessons, and makes the class do a year-long personal project to be confidential between them and him - not even graded - so he can “get to know them.” (Even though at the end of the year they won't be in his class anymore, so what does he do with these kids' personal emotions laid out for him to keep?!) At the end, there's the vague hint that maybe the allegations by one girl were untrue with regards to his lingering glances, but things we're told he does for a fact are still creepily inappropriate. I felt uneasy many times.

Yet, aside from a small number of others on goodreads and an opinion on TVTropes, I seem to be alone in thinking this guy was a creep. Am I just too sensitive? I don't know.

Am I glad I didn't DNF this? Eh, kind of...? At least now I have a little more context I didn't in the past. At least now I have my own opinions of this instead of just going by what others have told me.

As a teenager, I was going about my own merry way until Margaret and her literary ilk sent me into a neurotic spiral of “why don't I worry about my body shape?” “Why don't I have obsessive, angsty crashes on guys?” “Why don't I care whether my friends have their periods?”

The answer, revealed years later is that I'm far wiser than these girls and their nonfictional counterparts – a truth I wish I knew as a middleschooler when teachers harassed me about not being able to find ways that Margaret resonated with me.

A book about a petty and shallow girl, befitting petty and shallow preteens and the intelligent young women who want insight into why their peers have suddenly gone crazy.

I can only imagine the relief a girl coming-of-teenage might feel while reading this