Politically Incorrect
Georgia’s diary entries can be viewed as politically incorrect, but who cares—it is a book of her own private thoughts. She’s not trying to offend anyone because if anyone were actually to know what she wrote, she’d be the offended party:
“I look like there is a touch of the Asian in my family. Sadly not the case. The nearest we have to any exotic influence is Auntie Kath, who can sing in Chinese, but only after a couple of pints of wine.”
The Parents
Georgia has nicknames for everybody in her life, including her parents. But she also mentions a very specific shared metaphorical image that does double duty in the service of both nicknaming and literary device:
“After tea James and I were listening to records and talking about what we were going to do after we ditch The Olds (as we call our parents).”
Georgia-isms
Georgia is an entertaining narrator because she is not satisfied with merely pursuing the commonplace and the been-there and done-that of the language. She is the type of person who can create a simile that is only arguably a true metaphor on the one hand, but is absolutely a true metaphor in her hands:
“Did she know what it was like to sluice her little sister down and then have to walk the gamut of shame past all the mothers and toddlers and swimming-pool attendants in masks with scrubbing brushes? I think not. I had to take it on the chin like a taking-it-on-the-chin person, so why couldn’t Jas?”
And Yet, a Teenage Girl
As idiosyncratic as she may be, she is, after all, a teenage girl. And as a teenage girl, she not only can be expected, but should be expected to give in to the common passions and the eager temptation to settle for an obvious image based on what little you know at that point in life:
“I swear he was so gorgeous it made you blink and open your mouth like a goldfish.”
She’s Funny
When all is said and done, Georgia is just plain funny. Reading her diary is a peek into a very comical mind. Sure, one may feel just a little creepy afterward for imposing themselves into the private thoughts of a teenage girl, but not much in there is particularly personal. It’s not that kind of diary. It is very funny, however:
“After assembly I popped into the loo and looked in the mirror. Worst fears confirmed—I am Mrs. Ugly. Small, swollen eyes, hair plastered to my skull, HUGE red nose. I look like a tomato in a school uniform. Well, that is that then.”
