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Katherine and Michael meet at a New Year's Eve party. They're attracted to each other, they grow to love each other. And once they've decided their love is forever, they make love.It's the beginning of an intense and exclusive relationship, with a future all planned. Until Katherine's parents insist that she and Michael put their love to the test with a summer apart...Forever is written for an older age group than Judy Blume's other novels for children. It caused a storm of controversy when it was first published because of its explicit sexual content.
Simplistically (but realistically) written, touching, and a little bit bitter. Also, short.
All good things.
This is the first book I've read by Judy Blume; If this novel is any indication of how she tells stories, I've been missing out!
All she wanted was to be someone's little girl....Fate made her a lonely orphan, yearning for the embrace of a real family and a loving home. But a golden chance at a new life may not be enough to escape the dark secrets of her past....
Excerpt from Prologue (publicly viewable on Amazon)
I was alone in Mrs. McGuire's office, waiting to meet the couple who had asked to see me. Sitting "properly" on the straight-back chair next to Mrs. McGuire's desk was making my back ache but I knew from past experience that I had better be on my best behavior. Mrs. McGuire was the chief administrator of our orphanage and pounced on us if we slouched or did anything else "improper" in front of visitors.
"Posture, posture," she would cry out when she passed us in the cafeteria, and we all would snap to attention. Those who didn't obey her had to walk around with a book on their heads for hours, and if the book fell off, they would have to do it over again the next day.
"You children are orphans," she lectured to us, "looking for some nice people to come snatch you up and make you members of their families. You must be better than other children, children with parents and homes. You must be healthier, smarter, more polite, and most certainly more respectful. In short," she said in a voice that often turned shrill during her endless speeches, "you must become desirable. Why," she asked, sweeping her eyes over each and every one of us critically, her thin lips pursed, "would anyone want you to be their daughter or son?"
She was right. Who would ever want me? I thought. I was born prematurely. Some of the boys and girls here said I was stunted. Just yesterday, Donald Lawson called me the Dwarf.
"Even when you're in high school, you'll wear little-girl clothes," he taunted.
He strutted away with his head high, and I could tell it made him feel better to make me feel bad. My tears were like trophies for him, and the sight of them didn't make him feel sorry. Instead, they encouraged him.
"Even your tears are tiny," he sang as he walked down the hall. "Maybe we should call you Tiny Tears instead of the Dwarf."
The kids at the orphanage weren't the only ones who thought there was something wrong with me, though. Margaret Lester, who was the tallest girl in the orphanage, fourteen with legs that seemed to reach up to her shoulders, overheard the last couple I'd met talking about me and couldn't wait to tell me all the horrible things they had to say.
"The man said he thought you were adorable, but when they found out how old you were, they wondered why you were so small. She thought you might be sickly and then they decided to look at someone else," Margaret told me with a twisted smirk on her face.
No potential parents ever looked at her, so she was happy when one of us was rejected.
"I'm not sickly," I whispered in my own defense. "I haven't even had a cold all year."
I always spoke in a soft, low voice and then, when I was made to repeat something, I struggled to make my voice louder. Mrs. McGuire said I had to appear more self-assured.
"It's fine to be a little shy, Janet," she told me. "Goodness knows, most children today are too loud and obnoxious, but if you're too modest, people will pass you over. They'll think you're withdrawn, like a turtle more comfortable in his shell. You don't want that, do you?"
I shook my head but she continued her lecture.
"Then stand straight when you speak to people and look at them and not at the floor. And don't twist your fingers around each other like that. Get your shoulders back. You need all the height you can achieve."
When I had come to her office today, she had me sit in this chair and then paced in front of me, her high heels clicking like little hammers on the tile floor as she advised and directed me on how to behave once the Delorices arrived. That was their names, Sanford and Celine Delorice. Of course, I hadn't set eyes on them before. Mrs. McGuire told me, however, that they had seen me a number of times. That came as a surprise. A number of times? I wondered when, and if that was true, why had I never seen them?
"They know a great deal about you, Janet, and still they are interested. This is your best opportunity yet. Do you understand?" she asked, pausing to look at me. "Straighten up," she snapped.
I did so quickly.
"Yes, Mrs. McGuire," I said.
"What?" She put her hand behind her ear and leaned toward me. "Did you say something, Janet?"
"Yes, Mrs. McGuire."
"Yes what?" she demanded, standing back, her hands on her hips.
"Yes, I understand this is my best opportunity, Mrs. McGuire."
"Good, good. Keep your voice strong and clear. Speak only when you're spoken to, and smile as much as you can. Don't spread your legs too far apart. That's it. Let me see your hands," she demanded, reaching out to seize them in her own long, bony fingers.
She turned my hands over so roughly my wrists stung.
"Good," she said. "You do take good care of yourself, Janet. I think that's a big plus for you. Some of our children, as you know, think they are allergic to bathing."
She glanced at the clock.
"They should be arriving soon. I'm going out front to greet them. Wait here and when we come through the door, stand up to greet us. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mrs. McGuire." Her hand went behind her ear again. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Yes, Mrs. McGuire."
She shook her head and looked very sad, her eyes full of doubt.
"This is your big chance, your best chance, Janet. Maybe, your last chance," she muttered and left the office.
Now I sat gazing at the bookcase, the pictures on her desk, the letters in frames congratulating her on her performance as an administrator in our upstate New York child welfare agency. Bored with the things decorating Mrs. McGuire's office, I turned around in my chair to stare out the windows. It was a sunny spring day. I sighed as I looked out at the trees, their shiny green leaves and budding blossoms calling to me. Everything was growing like weeds because of the heavy spring rain, and I could tell Philip, the groundskeeper, wasn't very happy to be mowing the endless lawns so early in the season. His face was screwed up in a scowl and I could just imagine him grumbling about the grass coming up so fast this year, you could watch it grow. For a moment I drifted away in the monotonous sound of Philip's lawnmower and the dazzling sunlight streaming in through the windows. I forgot I was in Mrs. McGuire's office, forgot I was slouching with my eyes closed.
I tried to remember my real mother, but my earliest memories are of being in an orphanage. I was in one other beside this one, then I got transferred here when I was nearly seven. I'm almost thirteen now, but even I would admit that I look no more than nine, maybe ten. Because I couldn't remember my real mother, Tommy Turner said I was probably one of those babies that doctors make in a laboratory.
"I bet you were born in a test tube and that's why you're so small. Something went wrong with the experiment," he'd said as we left the dining hall last night. The other kids all thought he was very clever and laughed at his joke. Laughed at me.
"Janet's mother and father were test tubes," they taunted.
"No," Tommy said. "Her father was a syringe and her mother was a test tube."
"Who named her Janet then?" Margaret asked doubtfully.
Tommy had to think.
"That was the name of her lab technician, Janet Taylor, so they gave her that name," he answered, and from the look on their faces, I could tell the other kids believed him.
Last night, like every night, I had wished with all my heart that I knew something about my past, some fact, a name, anything that I could say to Tommy and the others to prove that once upon a time I did have a real Mommy and Daddy. I wasn't a dwarf or a test tube baby, I was...well, I was like a butterfly -- destined to be beautiful and soar high above the earth, high above troubles and doubts, high above nasty little kids who made fun of other people just because they were smaller and weaker…
My Rating: 🧡🧡🧡🖤🖤
I absolutely adore most V.C. Andrews books, and when I discovered the five-book Orphans miniseries I quickly bought the entire collection and tore into them.
It did not start out with a bang. I'm not sure how I feel about this book, to be honest. It was definitely well written, but the story had a constant haze of depression and darkness about it, with very little relief. And I absolutely hated the ending. Out of all the books in this series, I would have to say this is the worst entry, which is a shame because the series is really rather good. Hopefully, people can keep reading and look past this story, because the series as a whole is definitely worth the time.
An epic with real teeth.Centuries from now, when America is a barren wasteland and men keep women in cages, Donthiki is born with a special mutation: fangs in the cleft between her legs.Knowing that men need little excuse to end a woman's life, she must closely guard this secret so none discover the weapon she holds in her intimate flesh.Until one day, it reveals itself and changes everything.As her legs spread, so does the legend - and Donthiki finds herself the unintended leader of a potential revolution. Can women truly change their horrendous fate? Or will the might of men keep them ground into the lifeless dirt for all eternity?Watch her take a bite out of destiny.This post-apocalyptic tale has echoes of sword-and-sandals epics and science-fiction classics - you won't want to miss it![Content warning: contains combat, gore, violence against women, rape]
My Rating: 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡
Just... Wow! This book is an amazing read. It introduces the reader to a vivid, plausible world filled with unique and beautifully imperfect characters that you can't help but empathize with.
I loved this story, and highly recommend it to anyone looking for a good (and kinky) dystopian read.
I will definitely be looking for more stories by this author.
At last, Heaven would find the happiness she longed for...free from the scorn and contempt of her past!In her grandmother's fine, rich Boston house, Heaven Leigh Casteel dreamed of a wonderful new life of new friends, the best schools, beautiful clothes and most important, love. The pearls of culture, wisdom and breeding would now be hers. Soon she would make the Casteel name respectable, find her brothers and sisters, and have a family again.But even in the world of the wealthy, there were strange forebodings, secrets best forgotten. And as Heaven reached out for love, she was slowly ensnared in a sinister web of cruel deceits and hidden passions!
I kept putting off finishing this book because of its slow pace, but the overall story I liked. I didn't like the main character, however, because I couldn't relate to her on almost any level. That and some of the decisions she made... she just seemed alien to me.
It's not a bad book, by any means. The characters VC Andrews created seem to come to life on the page, from their mannerisms to the way they speak, and I loved every second of it. It's so rare to find books like that nowadays...
ALL SHE WANTED WAS A FAMILY SHE COULD CALL HER OWN....As an orphan girl, Crystal was one of many -- and utterly alone. But she still dreamed of a shining life of love and happiness, and freedom from the dark legacy of her past...When the Morrises choose Crystal, she is full of optimism - at last she has a home to call her own. Karl Morris is proud of her being a good student. Thelma makes her feel truly wanted. But Crystal will soon discover that sadness is banished, and that means no one is prepared when tragedy comes.
My Rating: 💗💗💗💗🖤
It seemed like a nub of a story to me, like someone took a full-length novel and chopped out everything but the bare necessities.
It was an interesting story psychologically, though I do wish some elements were touched on a bit more. But that's my inner psychology nerd coming out.
Going home with the Morrises was like taking a guided tour of their lives on a sightseeing bus. They drove a moderately priced sedan chosen, Karl said, for its gas efficiency and for its high rating in Consumer Reports.
"Karl makes the decisions about everything we buy," Thelma explained with a light laugh that punctuated most of what she said. "He says an informed consumer is a protected consumer. You can't believe in advertisements. Advertisements, especially commercials, are just full of a lot of misinformation, right, Karl?"
"Yes, dear," Karl agreed.
I sat in the rear, and Thelma remained turned on an angle so she could talk to me all the way to their home -- my new home -- in Wappingers Falls, New York.
"Karl and I were childhood sweethearts. Did I tell you that?"
She continued before I could tell her she had.
"We started to go together in the tenth grade, and when Karl went to college, I remained faithful to him, and he remained faithful to me. After he graduated and was appointed to his position at IBM, we planned our wedding. Karl helped my parents make all the arrangements, right down to the best place to go for flowers, right, Karl?"
"That's true," he said, nodding. He didn't take his eyes off the road.
"Ordinarily, Karl doesn't like to have long conversations in the car when he's driving," Thelma explained, gazing at him and smiling. "He says people forget how driving a car is something that requires their full attention."
"Especially nowadays," Karl elaborated, "with so many more cars on the road, so many more teenage drivers and older drivers. Those two age groups account for more than sixty percent of all accidents."
"Karl has all sorts of statistics like that floating around his mind," Thelma said proudly. "Just last week, I was thinking about replacing our gas stove with a new electric range, and Karl converted BTUs...is that it, Karl? BTUs?"
"Yes."
"BTUs into pennies of cost and showed me how the gas stove was more efficient. Isn't it wonderful to have a husband like Karl who can keep you from making the wrong decisions?"
I smiled and gazed out the windows. The orphanage wasn't much more than fifty or so miles from where my new parents lived, but I had never traveled this far north. Other than some school field trips, I hadn't been to many places at all. Just leaving the orphanage and going twenty miles by car was an adventure.
It was late summer, and the cooler autumn winds had already begun to descend from the north. Leaves were turning rust and orange, and when I could see far into the distance and look over the heavily wooded mountains, I thought the ripple of colors was breathtakingly beautiful. This was a bright, sunny day, too. The sky was a deep, rich blue, and the clouds that flowed across it in a stream of wind stretched themselves until they became as thin as gauze. Way off to the south, an airplane turned into a silver dot and then disappeared into the clouds.
I was happy and full of hope. I would have a home, a place to call my own, and someone else to care about besides myself, as well as, I hoped, someone to care about me. How simple that was and how taken for granted by most people, but how wonderful and new and precious it was for orphans like myself.
"Karl is the oldest of three brothers and the only one married. His middle brother, Stuart, is a salesman for an air-conditioner manufacturer in Albany, and his younger rother, Gary, has graduated from a culinary institute in Poughkeepsie, where Karl's father lives. Gary was hired to cook on a cruise ship, so we don't hear from him or see him much at all.
"Karl and his brothers are not far apart in age, but they're not all that close. No one is in Karl's family, right, Karl?"
Karl nearly turned to look at her. His head started to move and then stopped when an automobile about fifty yards in front of us emerged from a driveway and he had to slow down.
"If they didn't speak to each other on the phone occasionally, they wouldn't know who still existed in the family and who didn't. Karl's father is still alive, but his mother passed away, what, two years ago, Karl?"
"A year and eleven months tomorrow," Karl said mechanically.
"A year and eleven months," she repeated like a translator.
So I have two uncles and a grandfather on Karl's side, I thought. Before I could ask about her side, she volunteered the information.
"I don't have any brothers or sisters," Thelma said. "My mother wasn't supposed to have any children. She had breast cancer when she was only seventeen, and the doctors advised her not to have children. Then, late in life, when she was in her early thirties, she became pregnant with me. My father was forty-one at the time. Now my mother is fifty-eight and my father is sixty-nine.
"I bet you're wondering why we don't have any children of our own. Before you, I mean," she added quickly.
"It's none of my business," I said.
"Oh, sure it is. Everything that's our business is your business now. We're going to be a family, so we have to share and be honest with each other, right, Karl?"
"Absolutely," he said, signaling to change lanes and pass the car ahead of us.
"Karl's sperm count is too low," she said with a smile, as if she were delighted about it.
"I don't know if we should talk about that, Thelma." The back of Karl's neck turned pink with embarrassment.
"Oh, of course we can. She's old enough and probably knows everything there is to know. Kids today are very advanced. How can they not help it, with all that's on television? Do you watch television much, Crystal?"
"No," I answered.
"Oh," she said, the excitement fading in her face for the first time since we had met. Her eyes looked like tiny flashlights with weakened batteries. Then she thought of something and smiled again. "Well, that's probably because you didn't have much opportunity in a home with so many other children. Anyway, we did try to have children. As soon as Karl determined it was financially sensible for us, we tried, right, Karl?"
He nodded.
"Nothing happened no matter how we planned it. I used a thermometer to take my temperature, plotted the days on my calendar, even planned some romantic evenings," she said, blushing. She shrugged. "Nothing happened. We just thought we were missing," she continued. "Take better aim, I used to tell him, didn't I, Karl?"
"Thelma, you're embarrassing me," he said.
"Oh, fiddledy-doo. We're a family. We can't be embarrassed," she emphasized.
The simplicity and honesty with which she talked about the most intimate details of her life fascinated me.
"Anyway," she continued, turning back to me, "Karl read up on it and learned that he should keep his scrotum cool. He avoided wearing anything tight, refrained from taking hot baths, and tried to keep himself cool, especially before we were going to make a baby. We even waited longer between times because periods of sexual restraint usually increase the volume and potency of sperm, right, Karl?"
"You don't have to get into the nitty-gritty details, Thelma."
"Oh, sure I do. I want Crystal to understand. I was reading a magazine the other day, Modern Parent or something like that, and the article said mothers and daughters especially should be honest and open about everything so they can build trust.
"Where was I?" she asked. "Oh, volume and potency of sperm. So, when that didn't work, we went to a doctor. You know that the average male produces anywhere from 120 million to 600 million sperm in a single ejaculation?"
"You have trouble with so many other facts and statistics, Thelma. How come you don't forget that one?" Karl asked gently.
"I don't know. It's not easy to forget, I guess," she said, shrugging.
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