I have this misguided theory that before I can make fun of something, I should probably give it a fair chance first.
In some instances, like with the downright unreadable Twilight, this has served me well. But in others, I feel a little disappointed in myself when I realize that curiosity has turned into genuine interest and I’m enjoying the thing I set out to mock. This was a pleasant surprise with Harry Potter in 6th grade, but less pleasant as I’m now finding myself really enjoying The Help.
The dialect used for the maids’ points of view is a little cringe-worthy, and you can practically feel the book’s author patting herself on the back as she spins her yarn about the divide between black and white women in Mississippi in the 1960s, but sadly none of this detracts from the fact that it is a fun read.
To tell the truth, I’m not even sure what makes the book as engaging as it is, and I feel appropriately embarrassed about this, but there you have it.
That said, I’m only 29% of the way in. There’s still plenty of time for this to start sucking.