Are These My Basoomas I See Before Me?

Are These My Basoomas I See Before Me, by Louise Rennison, is subtitled "Final Confessions of Georgia Nicolson." It's the final book in the series (listed in order here):
Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging
It's OK, I'm Wearing Really Big Knickers (UK) On the Bright Side, I'm Now the Girlfriend of a Sex God (US)
Knocked Out by my Nunga-Nungas
Dancing in My Nuddy-Pants
And That's When It Fell Off in My Hand (UK) Away Laughing on a Fast Camel (US)
Then He Ate My Boy Entrancers
Startled By His Furry Shorts
Luuurve is a Many Trousered Thing (UK) Love is a Many Trousered Thing (US)
Stop in the Name of Pants
Are These My Basoomas I See Before Me?

Eleanor and I found this last book an entirely satisfactory ending to the series, especially because Georgia ends up with The Right Boy. No, I'm not going to tell you who it is. But I'll bet you'll agree, if you've read any of the previous books!

I was particularly tickled by Georgia's treatment of her parents, this time around, especially this scene with her mother:
"Mum came mumming in, in her knickers. Well, if you can call them that.
Hang on a minute.
I said, "Mum, are you wearing a thong?"
She is. She is wearing a thong!
I said to her, "If you have a road accident, I will not be coming to explain your underwear to the emergency services."
She just looked at me and went off into the bathroom....Well. Then I remembered my new shoes.
I shouted to her, "Mum, could I just borrow..."
Before I could finish, she shouted back, "No!"
What is the point of parents? They wonder why the youth of today goes wrong. If they would merely give us what we wanted and keep away from us, all would be well....
Instead of Mum just lending me her black Chanel stilettos and everything being nice and easy, I am now going to have to sneak into her wardrobe, smuggle them out in my bag, wear them, sneak back into her room, and replace them.
They force us into a life of crime."
Oh, the teenage logic! It's funnier when it's not your own kid.

I laughed my way through Georgia's usual neologisms and the regularly-scheduled antics of her cat, which were amplified, in this book, by the addition of a budgie to her household. Georgia's cat Angus stares at the budgie much the same way our cat Tristan stared at our parakeets:
"Bum-ty seems to have fewer and fewer feathers. And she has gone off her Trill.
I'm not surprised with the twenty-four-hour cat staring that goes on."

The title line is deftly woven in, not only with some of the running jokes of the whole series, but with the particular plot of this novel. I think Rennison's timing is impeccable, and she's left her so-far-most famous creation, Georgia, at the right time, and in the right place.

It's been bothering me

Okay it's REALLY been bothering me to hear people talking about "lurkers," meaning those who just want to read and don't feel particularly chatty. It's because of Louise Rennison. Her books about Georgia Nicholson, starting with Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging, are full of British-sounding neologisms. That's part of the fun of reading them. (See my previous review here.)

In Georgia's world, a "lurker" is that kind of painful pimple-in-progress that's making a big lump you can feel and is just beginning to look a little red and shiny on the stretched skin over the top. So I get an overly ugly image when I read about "lurkers."

Really, I don't mind anyone lurking about, if they're shy. But it would be nice if everyone would speak up every once in a while about liking (or hating) a poem, or pointing out something I'm missing.

Books For Frittering Away Your Time

The dust is settling at my house today because there are no kids here to stir it up. They're back in school. We all got up before sunrise to get them there (and I discovered that I have a sore throat and a cold). The cats are drifting around confused, and the birds are squawking that it's too quiet for their taste.

As we frittered away the last of summer, Eleanor and I read the latest Georgia Nicolson book, Stop In the Name of Pants, by Louise Rennison. I found it no better or worse than any of the previous ones, although the neologisms are fewer on the ground (necessarily, if the language is to remain even nominally British English). These are the previous ones, in order:
Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging
On the Bright Side, I'm Now the Girlfriend of a Sex God
Knocked Out by my Nunga-Nungas
Dancing in my Nuddy-Pants
Away Laughing on a Fast Camel
Then He Ate My Boy Entrancers
Startled by His Furry Shorts
Love Is a Many Trousered Thing

If you're a cat lover, you'll be glad to know that despite the build-up, Angus does not die in this book, and in fact survives to literally bite the hand that feeds him. If you're a mother, you'll be amused at the following teenage girl perspective:

"I can't go, though.
I'd like to because I haven't seen another human being for days. But I can't bear to leave Angus when he is so poorly.
I said that to Mum earlier on, I said 'Oh, I wish I had some human company while I nurse Angus.'
She said 'I've been here all the time as well.'
I said 'As I said, I wish I had some human company.'
And she had stropped off to have a bath. That was about two hours ago and she is still in there...I don't know what she does in there for so long, it's vair selfish."

If you've ever known a teenage girl, you'll be amused by this book. So far we don't let the men in our house read them, but on her site, Rennison has some comments from men who also like reading about Georgia and the Ace Gang.

Book bloggers appreciation week is coming up. (Thanks to SFP at Pages Turned for spreading the word.)