Flowers in the Attic, By V.C. Andrews
Looking for something to bring with you on that beach vacation? How about a crazy book to keep you company on that bus ride home from work? Look no further than Jimmy’s pick for the Best “Worst” Book ever written! Enjoy!
Every teenage girl (and me) has read this “novel” at some point in their adolescent lives. It was either V.C. Andrews or Sweet Valley High. I actually re-read it last summer for kicks and it took me back to a time with no overdue phone bills or dirty laundry collecting in the corner; a time when things were simple.
Although she’s been six feet under for a good 20 years, V.C. Andrews quirky prose lives on; of her extensive published output, Flowers In The Attic, is one of the few books Ms. Andrews actually wrote – and it happened to be a smash hit; they even made a (dreadful) movie out of it, and it was banned from quite a few public schools in the early 80’s; of course that made us impressionable/rebellious kiddies want to read it even more.
Part one in the five-part (yes, I’ve read them all) Dollanganger series (her books are always in a series), young Cathy narrates. In a nutshell, the 4 blonde-haired/blue-eyed/beautiful (so clichéd) Dollanganger children whom Andrews refers to as “dolls” (Cathy, Christopher, Carrie, and Cory) and their mother (Corrine) have a seemingly perfect suburban life until there father dies in a sudden car accident.
The entire and newly broke (Corrine spent much of her husbands insurance money on minor extravagances) family is forced to move to Corrine’s rich and abusive parents estate in hopes of winning back her dying father’s inheritance. At “Foxworth Hall”, they’re met with a motley crüe of characters; maids, henchmen, window washers, a linebacker-sized butler, an ailing father, and her Bible thumping, broach-wearing, pinch-nosed mother, Olivia, who makes Joan Crawford’s parenting skills seem sensible.
The grandmother instantly detests the children because they were born “evil from the moment of conception,” “an abomination in the eyes of the Lord,” and refers to them as “the devil’s spawn.” See, V.C. Andrews had this insatiable lust for incest; Corrine and her husband were actually half-brother/sister.
In order for Corrine to be rewarded the inheritance, the children must be kept a secret, so Olivia locks them in a small room with access to the attic. She reads them a laundry list of “rules,” and informs Corrine to keep them quiet or “she’ll whip them ‘til the blood boils from their backs.”
Eventually, they’re confined only to the attic. Days turn into years, and Corrine visits them less and less. Her tunnel vision kicks into full gear as she realizes why share the money when she can have it all to herself? With no one else to turn to, a romance between Cathy and her older brother, Christopher ensues; I’m blaming either the extreme attic-confinement or twisted family genetics.
At some point, Olivia catches Cathy admiring her developing body in the mirror and forces Christopher to either cut off Cathy’s hair or they can all starve for two weeks. Christopher’s defiance works against his favor, as Olivia instead opts to drug Cathy and pour hot tar over her head; this way, Christopher is forced to cut Cathy’s hair AND go without food for 2-weeks (that grandmother is a clever bitch, hey?). On the verge of starvation (especially the younger siblings, Carrie and Cory), they’re forced to eat tasty morsels, like donut crumbs and dead mice. Eventually, Olivia decides to feed them again, this time in the form of powdered donuts.
Since V.C. Andrews knew she had a hit on her hands, and the prospect of future best sellers, she ends this twisted guilty pleasure with Cathy’s vows of revenge on both Olivia and Corrine.
This book is the Oreos that you can’t stop eating. Or that huge zit on your friend’s forehead that you can’t stop staring at. It’s not well written, laughably predictable, devoid of character/plot development, repetitive, trite, obvious, and ridden with clichés. But, it’s also an utterly enjoyable waste of time, and my favorite book in the entire world. Think of the two craziest trainwreck celebrities you know – I’ll go with Courtney Love and Charlie Sheen - breeding offspring and setting it to text. It would be this book.
I’ve always had an unfortunate penchant for ugly things – I often buy overpriced/ugly vintage clothes. I watch far too much trash TV and leaf through tabloid upon tabloid. Sometimes, I even go on dates with unfortunate looking people. Reading this book is no exception. It’s just about a step above sipping on warm wine coolers and at the annual trailer park get together.
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