A fail-safe plot to piss off the dumb few that forgave us
So, I'm not going to start pulling Pox Party from the library YA shelves. Instead I'm content to rely on the kids to spare themselves. That seems safe enough because of another feature of Anderson's writing—its difficulty. Pox Party is replete with too-good-for-the-SAT vocabulary words and painstaking historical accuracy. (In the author's note, Anderson goes so far as to regret an anachronistic reference to "tricorne" hats. Thanks.) The intricate and windy 18th-century prose should suffice to ensure that any 12- or 16-year-old who reads this book is a 12- or 16-year-old who really, really wanted to. The adult raves aside, I wonder how many of them there are. Pox Party bears all the worthy marks of a book that makes adults swoon and kids roll their eyes.
—Emily Bazelon, Slate Magazine
Because everyone knows that adolescents don't read complexly and historical accuracy is only for pretentious academics.
31. Crowley, Little, Big
What the fuss was about then: Elf sex.
What the fuss is about now: Fairy fucking.
Maybe we just have different senses of humor.
36. Smith, The Rediscovery of Man
What the fuss was about then: "Cordwainer Smith." Isn't that a great pulp-adventurey sort of name? One of those archaeologist / gunfighter sort of names. "Smith. Cordwainer Smith."
What the fuss is about now: Okay, I just like to say "Cordwainer Smith."
—David Moles, Chrononautic Log
There are days when I think that the internet is single-handedly making me misanthropic. Then I remember that all these articles, reviews, rants, memes, are generated by people, and I know it is not the fault of the medium. And I am not blameless: I read them. And contribute. We're idiots, babe. It's a wonder we can even feed ourselves.
—Emily Bazelon, Slate Magazine
Because everyone knows that adolescents don't read complexly and historical accuracy is only for pretentious academics.
31. Crowley, Little, Big
What the fuss was about then: Elf sex.
What the fuss is about now: Fairy fucking.
Maybe we just have different senses of humor.
36. Smith, The Rediscovery of Man
What the fuss was about then: "Cordwainer Smith." Isn't that a great pulp-adventurey sort of name? One of those archaeologist / gunfighter sort of names. "Smith. Cordwainer Smith."
What the fuss is about now: Okay, I just like to say "Cordwainer Smith."
—David Moles, Chrononautic Log
There are days when I think that the internet is single-handedly making me misanthropic. Then I remember that all these articles, reviews, rants, memes, are generated by people, and I know it is not the fault of the medium. And I am not blameless: I read them. And contribute. We're idiots, babe. It's a wonder we can even feed ourselves.

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Yeah. The next generation needs the balls to recreate the glory that is Iraq the same way Bush recreated the glory of Vietnam.
It's a good thing the reviewer warned adolescents to avoid the book. Someone who didn't know any better might accidentally find the historical details and extraneous vocabulary words to be interesting. It's nice to know someone's helping to prevent people from learning too much.
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*preemptively shoots self in head*
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If I were a Peanut's character, now is when the smoke would rise from my skull.
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You mean waking up every morning doesn't do this?
You are a better man than I, ma'am.
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Because everyone knows it isn't important to learn how to think or express oneself as long as you can get a good score on those academic assessment tests.
And when a school system isn't doing well on assessment tests, do you know what they should do? Concentrate on teaching, you may say? No! That would be a silly waste of time. What they should do is have their funding cut and spend more time preparing for the assessment tests!
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If I were a Peanut's character, now is when the smoke would rise from my skull.
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I know the feeling, all too well.