The Juliet Spell and Failing to Cast a Spell

Reviewing today: Douglas Rees' The Juliet Spell.

Here’s the intriguing-looking cover.

Cherish it while you can, ‘cause I’m about to rip the book's spine in half before I throw it maliciously into a raging bonfire.

This book made me angry. It’s one of those books that makes all YA authors look like they’re trying to write down to teens to get a book published. Not only was the whole old language “thee” and “thou” thing a bit insulting, but the main character was just weak as an individual, which was disappointing. The first chapter I was okay with. I actually liked our leading female, Miranda. After that? Not so much. This book and its characters (minus like one person) are dumb. D-U-M-B. Harsh critic time.

I really hate reading a book and being disappointed. Nothing irks me more than when I pay money for something and have to physically force myself to read it. I download a lot of samples on my Nook, and if they seem good enough after 20-40 pages, buy them. This book’s sample tricked me. I mean, sure, I knew I was about to go on a Shakespeare stereotyping rampage, but I thought it might be unique enough that I’d smile along the way. No smiling. All frowns.

It’s angering to me to even give this book the time of day and summarize it so you readers out there can consider whether or not you want to pick it up. (Don’t. It will burn your hands. It will give you a disease.) Anyway! I guess we must do what we must. Here goes my vague and probably rude summary. Sorry, Rees, you had it coming.

Miranda has always wanted to fill the same shoes as her mother, a former actress who was always chosen to play Juliet. It’s her chance now, as her school is putting on a production of Romeo and Juliet. Unfortunately, Miranda’s theater teacher chooses boobs over talent, and doesn’t give Miranda, deserving of it, the part. In order to see if she can change her fate and role, Miranda casts a spell (like an evil witch, because that totally makes you a more likable person), a fame spell, to see if she can get the recognition in the school play she believes she deserves. However, her spell kinda really backfires. Instead of her obtaining fame, she obtains a famous celebrity standing on top of her coffee table: Renn Fest garbed Edmund. I know, you’re thinking, “Who the hell is he?” He’s the one and only Shakespeare’s younger brother.

Basically, Miranda figures she can use what she gets to her advantage as much as possible. She asks Edmund for tips in acting as well as questions about his brother’s ultimate vision. Problem? Edmund kinda hates his brother. Other problem? Miranda is kinda falling for Edmund as he helps her. It’s all rather trite and been done. The only original thing to it is, I guess, the fact that we’re pretending Shakespeare had a brother.

Fluff. Fluff. Fluff, fluffity, fluff. I’M GAGGING ON A SHEEP HERE. Seriously, that’s all this book is. It’s cute, condescending-to-your-intelligence fluff.

UGH. I don’t even care that it’s clever that all the characters have names from at least one play in Shakespeare’s cannon. I don’t even care that we’re juggling multiple characters in the book, characters the author seemed to really put some thought into. I can’t, because I’m that insulted. For reals. No joke.

The only redeeming thing about this book is, in the end, it kind of goes somewhere you maybe half of your time reading it expected. And yes, that ending is something that will make the reader satisfied. I can honestly say that, while I hated Edmund’s Middle English shout outs to the Renaissance, his decisions and how they affected the plot were at least a fraction refreshing as well. Thank you, Edmund for being the jerk we didn’t think the author was going to let you be. You made me happy with the way things turned out. Also, you allowed for a somewhat deeper message to the text: You can’t always get what you want. And if you can’t get it, work with what you’ve got. Similar to how I worked with this review to actually give the author some ounce of creative credit, right?

Was that too mean? Ouch. But really. This is almost as bad as that My Boyfriend Merlin book I just absolutely refused to finish. Alright, since I guess everybody gets a gold star at least for effort…

Overall rating?

 

Fiction or Literature?

100% Fiction, 0% Literature (Just goes to show that pulling from literary figures doesn’t always make what you create a work of lit on its own.)

Good or Bad?

1% Good, 99% Bad (Yeah, I know that's mean, but hey. It's my opinion.)

The end. Rant done.