Chapter One, or why our life is so great and we're totally normal (which means it's obviously not because VC Andrews "wrote" this)

Within a few paragraphs of Flowers in the Attic, I think I figured out why 13 year old girls have loved these books for the last 20 years. We’re talking, really, about two generations of young, impressionable American women. Obviously I’ve read a significant chunk of the V.C. Andrews repertoire before today, so I’m well aware of the rampant, dirty, delicious, nasty-ass incest. That’s the biggest factor. There’s rape, there’s sex with a guy who I at least always imagined looked like Colonel Sanders, it’s basically a puupuu platter of taboo fetishes. And let’s not forget the murder! These books have everything! Through my immense research of the subject, I’m basically positive that this is the reason that rates of the therapy and psychotropic medications have gone up over the last 25 years or whatever.

Anyway, the other reason, right? Right. These books (or at least this book, but I’m assuming it’s true for all books written by “V.C. Andrews”) seem like they’re written by a pretentious 15 year old with an Author of Classic Literature complex. It’s all big words and long sentences, and bad structure. Ohmigod, am I really saying the Flowers in the Attic isn’t the high point of history’s great literature. I think I just shocked myself. I’m not really hypercritical of books and stuff, mostly because I don’t read enough of that great literature to know what I’m talking about, so hey. Everyone needs a target, I guess. But seriously, this is written so badly. Not even the actual writing, but the writer obviously didn’t check what s/he had already written, to see if things matched up, and I guess his/her editor was lazy. On page 5 it talks about how the family had no luxuries. Then we find out that every Friday (every SINGLE Friday) the dad comes home with presents for the whole family. Non-luxurious gifts like sterling silver jewelry boxes. Oh, yeah, totally not special.

I’m pretty sure that this book was allegedly written before the “real” V.C. Andrews died and they brought in a ghostwriter, but if that’s the case, I’m pretty sure she was either a dude or an only child. Apparently, when Cathy, the main character, finds out that her mother is having twins, she decides that she hates the babies already. But once the babies come, she races home to take care of them, including changing their diapers. Now, I had a baby sister, and while I don’t remember it exactly, I also don’t remember running home from school to change her diaper. Yeah, I’m pretty sure no one races to do that.

The best part of the first chapter (it’s a long first chapter, okay??) is definitely when the dad dies. First of all, it’s his birthday. The whole family and all their friends are gathered for a party, and he doesn’t show up! Dad’s BFF says he must be having an affair, which seriously is kind of fucked up, but whatever. Then Cathy sees a car coming up the drive. Is it Daddy? No, it’s marked State Police, and Daddy is a PR man for a computer company, not a policeman. The policeman comes in and tells the mother that Daddy is dead. There was an accident. But it’s great because it’s pretty much that comedy classic of telling someone something bad, but then good! Oh but then there’s bad again. Here’s what happened:
-There was a car accident, but it wasn’t Daddy’s fault.
-A drunk driver was swerving between lanes
-Daddy swerved out of the way, using a “correct defensive driving maneuver” (see what I mean about the 15-year-old’s writing style?)
-There’s something in the road to keep him from properly completing the “correct defensive driving maneuver”
-The car turns over several times, and he might have been able to live
-A truck crashes into his car
-The car turns over again
-The care catches on fire

Is this not the most ridiculous thing ever? Also, it brings me back to my point about not rereading things, because in one paragraph, “V.C.” says that the drunk driver crashed into Daddy’s car, but that Daddy managed to avoid a head-on collision. What?