I Was a Teenage Fairy

I'm not in love with this book. This doesn't mean it's a bad book. Often, the books I end up loving the most are the ones that I have lukewarm feelings for at first. Six months down the road, we'll see if I love this book.

But let's talk about what I do love about I Was A Teenage Fairy. The prose is wonderful. I love the personifications of LA and the San Fernando Valley as her little sister, and New York as their cousin. I love the world that Block creates: it's not a magical world, but there is one magical element in this reality, and that is Mab, the fairy that Barbie can see. Mab is sort of an antithetical fairy; she's unpleasant, she's kind of mean, she has pointed teeth, she's obsessed with sex and men. She becomes a respite for both Barbie and Griffin in a world that feels so isolating and objectifying, that glosses over the bad stuff. She also serves as a sort of coping mechanism for these two children who have been molested – in some ways, she's the voice inside them that never lets them become complacent, never lets them slip into numbness. If you took Mab out of the story, we might have exactly the same story, except these characters would be all alone in their worlds and they might never move forward. Mab is the thing that connects them all, makes them feel less alone, moves them.

Something else that I really enjoyed about this particular book was the way that Barbie pushed back at being an object – she always wanted to be behind the camera, looking out, rather than in front of the camera, being looked at. I think that's a really important and subtle move that makes Barbie more than an acted upon character, and ultimately, gives her the power to become who she wants to be and face her past head-on. Griffin doesn't have that desire, and so remains a pretty unchanging character even as Mab takes him on adventures and sets him up with a soulmate of sorts. Barbie has an agency that Griffin doesn't.

What I love dearly about Francesca Lia Block's books in general is that she depicts children and humans as deeply flawed people who find that, despite everything, they are capable of love and that they are capable of being loved. The idea of the nuclear family isn't even considered in Block's worlds; whatever arrangement brings you comfort and love is what is right, and that is absolutely the reason to read any of Block's books (but especially Weetzie Bat). Though I can't put my finger on what makes me give this particular book 3 stars rather than 4, it's still wonderful and it's worth the afternoon it will take to read it through.