Oh right, I have a blog.
Well, let's see. Despite my purported superpowers, I managed to get everyone the exactly wrong books.
I thought: Cats! Humor! Irony!
Reality: This is weird. And dated.
For Chestnut, I got this:
I thought: She's sweet and earnest! It will be sweet and earnest.
Reality: It is a romance about kids with cancer. It is for kids interested in romance. I am an idiot. (It's pretty great, though, honestly.)
How about the can't-fail, this is perfect gift?
I thought: IT'S SHAKESPEARE'S GREATEST INSULTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What went wrong? Where did my mojo go? In retrospect it's all so clear, but in the moment, I thought...well, I thought wrong.
And to cap it off, my husband (previously referred to here as Mr. Diamond, who has since been given the opportunity to choose his own code name, and opted for...Aragorn, son of Arathorn, known as Strider etc etc, because it will allow for nearly endless variety) bought Chestnut this:
Reality: At first, terror. I mean serious terror, to the point of leaving it downstairs in the living room because she didn't want it in the room with her. Segueing to...love. Thrill. Endless pleasure. It has been carted all over New York City and on various sleepovers, read aloud in restaurants (pro tip: read the Sausage story). Entirely and wholly successful.
And, for the last and final thing, I tried to buy Chestnut Code Name Verity, because everyone is so crazy about it. And I ordered it from some do-gooding—or so I thought—web site, that promised to use 10% of the funds to feed the hungry etc, and the book has never shown up, and no doubt my identity will shortly appear to have been nabbed.
The moral is? Um, don't believe anything I ever say. And read more fairy tales.
Happy New Year!