Booklist gave DP a great review! 

“Deft characterization, a bent-but-not-fractured fairytale plot, and a superabundance of wild irreverence distinguish this title . . . issues with religion and sex are treated with unusual honesty . . . Linker writes in smooth, addictive prose that captures the inherent messiness of coming of age, without being wholly predictable.” 

I’m thrilled by the Booklist review, but my mother’s review is a teeny-tiny bit more accurate–

Julie’s mother says: “Disenchanted Princess is the best piece of literature ever written by anyone, including Shakespeare and J.K. Rowling. My daughter is a genius. Everyone should go out right now and buy ten copies.”

After my mom gave DP such a glowing review, I thought I’d ask the rest of my family what they thought of the book.

The following are actual conversations between me and various family members–

 

Candice, my sister 

Me: What did you think of my book?

Candice: It was awesome! I loved it! SO cute!

Me: You haven’t even opened it, have you?

Candice: Yes I have! It was great!

Me: What’s the name of it?

Candice: You know I’m not good with names.

Me: What’s it about?

Candice: Er, you know—stuff.

Me: What kind of stuff?

Candice: Hey, I just remembered—there’s a big sale at the mall! [grabbing car keys] Let’s go!

 

Carolyn, my other sister

Me: Have you read my book yet?

Carolyn: I’m studying for the MCAT.

Me: What does the MCAT have to do with my book?

Carolyn: I’m about to take a test that’s going to determine the rest of my life.  I haven’t slept or eaten for a month.  Every time I close my eyes, I see chemistry equations.

Me: What are you trying to say?

Carolyn: Get out of my room before I kill you with this pencil.

 

Ryan, my brother

Me: Are you going to read my book?

Ryan: What book?

Me: My book.  The book I wrote.

Ryan: You wrote a book? 

Me: Yeah, you know—the one I’ve been talking about for the past year?

Ryan: Oh. [pauses] Can I have some money?

Me: No.  So are you going to read it?

Ryan: Read what?

Me: My book.

Ryan: If I read it, will you give me some money?

Me:  Um, no.  It’s against my writerly ethics to pay people to read my work.

Ryan: Well, then . . . [shrugs his shoulders] 

 

My Dad

Me: How do you like my book?

Dad (sounding confused): I thought you said it was about a girl.

Me: It is about a girl.

Dad: Then why is there a chicken on the cover?

Me: Actually, it’s a chick. It’s supposed to be cute. You know, because girls are called chicks?

Dad: Since when are girls called chicks?

Me: I don’t know . . . since forever, I guess.

Dad: I’ve never heard anyone call a girl a chick.

Me: Well, people do. So, how do you like the book?

Dad: Why is the chicken wearing a hat?

Me: It’s not a hat, it’s a tiara.

Dad: Why would a chicken wear a tiara?

Me: Never mind.