How opal mehta got kissed pdf

 

    How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life. Home · How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life Author: Viswanathan Kaavya. BriAn TrAcy, author of No Excuses (The Power of Self-Discipline) and How the Best. realizes ramblipetasga.ga How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild. or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. First eBook Edition: April ISBN: To my parents. How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got.

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    How Opal Mehta Got Kissed Pdf

    PDF - How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got A Life: A Novel. A lively and irresistible first novel about an overachieving teenage girl who discovers that. How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life [Kaavya Viswanathan] on ramblipetasga.ga *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. A funny, fast-paced, and. How Opal Mehta. Got Kissed,. Got Wild, and Got a Life. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. CO

    A lively and irresistible first novel about an overachieving teenage girl who discovers that, in order to get into the college of her dreams, she needs to have more fun. Since Opal's birth, the Mehtas have raised their only daughter with one goal in mind: There were flowcharts, diagrams, and endless lists to track her progress. At 16, Opal is her high school's valedictorian, president of three honor societies, and first chair in the regional orchestra. She even took welding classes to appear well-rounded. Her admission to Harvard looks like a sure thing. But at Opal's interview with Harvard's Dean of Admissions, he sets aside her impressive resume and asks the one question she never saw coming: What do you like to do for fun? Opal flubs the interview, but the Dean offers her another chance--if she can show that she is more than her GPA. Opal and her parents respond to this setback with the same rigor, calculation, and focus they applied to creating the perfect academic resume, and design a whole new plan: For the first time in her life, Opal finds herself asking two fundamental questions, "Who am I, and what do I love to do? Little, Brown and Company. A Novel A lively and irresistible first novel about an overachieving teenage girl who discovers that, in order to get into the college of her dreams, she needs to have more fun.

    The slut slamming that went on in this book was ridiculous.

    How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life

    Apparently, if you're a women you can be only pretty or smart, not both. I'm offended by that. So, all of those who apply ourselves academically are ugly. And all of those who take time to put on eyeliner correctly are dumb as a box as rocks. Fuck you. I'm sorry. I already have enough problems when I read YA because most of the books feature poor body and self image.

    And these remarks just pissed me off. It also doesn't help that any girl who wears something that shows any remote skin is called a slut. And if you wear name brands your called materialistic -even though Opal wears buckets full of Cool and Popular Inc, until she's found out because of her parents dumb-assery then she switches back to her "frump" clothes.

    Seriously, no happy medium with this one. I could go on about how sexist this book is all day, but now it's time to talk about culture sensitivity issues.

    This book centers around the fact that Opal is an Indian American and quite frankly that should've been its best quality, but it isn't. I think because the Indian culture is portrayed as being cartoonish and, well, offensive.

    Especially the portrayal of Indian boys who are according to Opal a too nerdy or b chauvinists. BTW, I've known a lot of hot and nice Indian boys.

    Finally, I found Opal to be a bit racist when it concerned illegal immigrants. She and her friends the HBZs made some rather offensive comments about immigrants and honestly it rubbed me the wrong way. I mean, just because these people are working manuel labor jobs does not make them second class citizens. And you shouldn't judge them for sending money to their families. As for the rest of the characters, the parents were just plain stupid.

    Let's just say, I wouldn't want them being my MD. Seriously, they decide to interrupt Opal's party which they orchestrate and leave so she can have a raging drunk fest providing the booze and everything, which is illegal btw and then are surprised Opal's drunk because they gave her a chart of how much she can drink without getting drunk. Um, even if you do calculate someone's BAC it's not foolproof because different people react differently to alcohol.

    Not only that, but how do you expect someone to keep track of their alcohol when they're partying. Dumb asses. The non-Mehtas aren't much better either. First let's talk about the love interests.

    How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life - PDF Free Download

    They are sort of pathetic. The object of lust throughout seventy-five percent of the novel is a caricature based on conservative values.

    Even though I tend to vote more left than right, I have respect for conservatives. They don't need to be portrayed this way. They are people. And even though I might disagree with a lot of their policies, I understand their arguments.

    And I feel like regardless of your political affiliation you should not try to demonize the other side--unless your a cartoon artist or a late night comedian and make fun of everyone. The way Jeff was written with Karl Rove as his role model, just was laughable. The chemistry between Opal and Sean barely exists. I really don't know why they even got back together at the novel but hey The same can be said about friendships in this story.

    At the very best they are shallow. First there is Natalie, who we are told at the beginning Opal has very little social contact with then she becomes the stories designated Tiny Tim. What is a designated Tiny Tim? It's the character who's so needy that we as the audience are supposed to feel sorry for as they exploit are main character, the exploiting is supposed to make them a "good" person.

    Instead, it just makes me groan. And seriously, I'm supposed to believe that this super smart kid can't go to school unless she gets this science scholarship from the school. I guess there's no thing such as work study, student loans, or going to a less expensive school, or getting a scholarship from said school.

    And that was another thing that ticked me off. Why were Ivy Leagues the only decent schools? And for that matter, why is Opal only satisfied with Harvard? Stanford and Yale are both Ivy League and Oh, and Opal, my sister got wait listed at Yale and went to Rice University and her SAT was nowhere near as good as yours, she didn't have fifty million extracurriculars either, she was just kick ass when it came to playing her oboe.

    And yes, she has a social life even though she's a musician.

    Okay, I got off of track. I need to talk about Opal's second group of friends. Well, were they really her friends. To sum them up they were The Plastics dubbed HBz here for "originality" Okay, there are three of them. Two are really insignificant since they really don't have personalities.

    Though one is essentially Regina George but she's different because she's Asian. Oh, yeah, thats a huuuggge difference let me tell you. Especially the portrayal of Indian boys who are according to Opal a too nerdy or b chauvinists. BTW, I've known a lot of hot and nice Indian boys. Finally, I found Opal to be a bit racist when it concerned illegal immigrants.

    She and her friends the HBZs made some rather offensive comments about immigrants and honestly it rubbed me the wrong way.

    I mean, just because these people are working manuel labor jobs does not make them second class citizens. And you shouldn't judge them for sending money to their families. As for the rest of the characters, the parents were just plain stupid.

    Let's just say, I wouldn't want them being my MD. Seriously, they decide to interrupt Opal's party which they orchestrate and leave so she can have a raging drunk fest providing the booze and everything, which is illegal btw and then are surprised Opal's drunk because they gave her a chart of how much she can drink without getting drunk.

    Um, even if you do calculate someone's BAC it's not foolproof because different people react differently to alcohol. Not only that, but how do you expect someone to keep track of their alcohol when they're partying.

    Dumb asses. The non-Mehtas aren't much better either. First let's talk about the love interests. They are sort of pathetic. The object of lust throughout seventy-five percent of the novel is a caricature based on conservative values.

    Even though I tend to vote more left than right, I have respect for conservatives. They don't need to be portrayed this way. They are people. And even though I might disagree with a lot of their policies, I understand their arguments.

    And I feel like regardless of your political affiliation you should not try to demonize the other side--unless your a cartoon artist or a late night comedian and make fun of everyone. The way Jeff was written with Karl Rove as his role model, just was laughable.

    The chemistry between Opal and Sean barely exists. I really don't know why they even got back together at the novel but hey The same can be said about friendships in this story.

    At the very best they are shallow. First there is Natalie, who we are told at the beginning Opal has very little social contact with then she becomes the stories designated Tiny Tim. What is a designated Tiny Tim? It's the character who's so needy that we as the audience are supposed to feel sorry for as they exploit are main character, the exploiting is supposed to make them a "good" person. Instead, it just makes me groan.

    And seriously, I'm supposed to believe that this super smart kid can't go to school unless she gets this science scholarship from the school.

    How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life

    I guess there's no thing such as work study, student loans, or going to a less expensive school, or getting a scholarship from said school. And that was another thing that ticked me off. Why were Ivy Leagues the only decent schools? And for that matter, why is Opal only satisfied with Harvard? Stanford and Yale are both Ivy League and Oh, and Opal, my sister got wait listed at Yale and went to Rice University and her SAT was nowhere near as good as yours, she didn't have fifty million extracurriculars either, she was just kick ass when it came to playing her oboe.

    And yes, she has a social life even though she's a musician.

    Okay, I got off of track. I need to talk about Opal's second group of friends. Well, were they really her friends. To sum them up they were The Plastics dubbed HBz here for "originality" Okay, there are three of them. Two are really insignificant since they really don't have personalities. Though one is essentially Regina George but she's different because she's Asian.

    Oh, yeah, thats a huuuggge difference let me tell you. Viswanathan also tries to show that her Regina is different by adding the fact that Opal and Pricilla used to be friends, but you really don't see that other than Opal telling you that.

    Any history, is non-existant save for that last ditch effort by Opal to get Seany to like her. Which really doesn't make sense because you would've thought Opal would've used this information earlier but whatever Honestly, I could go on and on about my rant all day but I won't. I think I got the basics. What I want to talk about now is the plagiarism issue. As I mentioned before, you can find the particulars about this if you do a mere Google search.

    What I want to talk about is why Viswanathan got caught and other authors, notably EL James seem to have to have gotten away with plagiarism.

    The plagiarism in this book is different than Fifty Shades of Grey because it's easier to prove. Okay, you're probably saying, MJ, it's obvious James plagiarized. Fifty Shades of Grey is really that Master of the Universe fan fiction, and Dear Author did a pretty kick ass job showing the similarities. That's true, and while I have great disdain for James's tampon trilogy and other P2P fan fics, I think it was easier showing plagiarism in Viswanathan's story because she used actual quotes from other works.

    Which is easier, I think, than proving that the characters were essentially Bella and Edward since there's more or less a paper trail well, that can be argued too if you count the cyber trail. Not that I'm saying P2P fiction is right.

    Not by any means. He patted the chair again. That just made him move in closer. I was practically one with the leather at this point, and unless I hopped into the backseat, there was nowhere else for me to go. That just made him move in closer, until the grommets in the leather embossed the backs of my knees, and he finally tilted the book toward me. No tension to complicate our whatever relationship.

    I should be relieved. A nonsexual female friend. That was a good thing. There would be no tension to complicate our relationship and my soon-to-be relationship with Jeff Akel. I was relieved. I was so surprised and horrified when I found these similarities, when I heard about them over this weekend. Or do you think that I hope that people who know me will believe that I'm telling the truth, that I've never been anything less than honest in my entire life, that I'm so horribly sorry for this mistake.

    But that's all it was, a completely unintentional mistake. Viswanathan's Opal Mehta pages "a full-scale argument about animal rights The mink like being made into coats. The foxes want to be made into scarves.

    I promise! Priscilla gasped. It must all go. All of it. Well, almost all of it. I still have some like bangs and a little fringe in back. Not all of it, because after four inches vanished, I started making panicked, whimpering sounds that touched even Frederic's heart And I kept telling myself, She's only doing this because she loves you Mia Thermopolis never had fingernails.

    Mia Thermopolis never had blond highlights. It certainly isn't Mia Thermopolis. She never owned enough cashmere to make her concerned for the future of the Kazakhstani mountain goat population. I was turning into someone else. I also drew largely from autobiography to tell the story of my year-old Indian American Jersey girl, Dimple Lala. To the best of my knowledge Born Confused was the first book with a US female teen desi heroine; that was one of the reasons my publisher wanted it, and it is certainly one of the reasons I wrote it And so I was extremely surprised to find that the majority, though not all, of the passages in Opal Mehta taken from Born Confused are those dealing with descriptions of various aspects of South Asian culture food, dress, locale, even memories of India, etc.

    One would think that these kinds of cultural details at least could have been drawn from Ms. Viswanathan's personal experience, given our similar cultural backgrounds and the similar cultural backgrounds and ages of our protagonists. The feeling was almost as if someone had broken into your home — and in some ways this is what literally had happened, considering so much of Born Confused is drawn from my life and home : The alcohol cabinet in my non-drinking household in small town Massachusetts was now in Opal's, the details of my family's two dinnertimes because of all the years of working late into the night by my father, too; my mother's food, from her mother's recipes, transplanted to Opal's table, her slinky black outfit too; my ecstatic and eye-opening discovery of Jackson Heights, Queens during an enthralled and emotional day there many years ago, suddenly turned to Edison, New Jersey Viswanathan and myself — details that may have escaped a person not familiar with the culture.

    Inside, padded carefully between layers of tissue, was an unbelievably resounding salvar khamees, one of those Indian outfits consisting of loose-fitting pants with a long top and scarf, or dupatta. The deep crimson fabric screamed sanguinely open.

    A river of nearly neon gold dye wound noisily through its length. The salvar was ornately embroidered with gold and silver and garnet beads and little bells that made a racket even as I lifted it out of the box. All in all it was, in fact, so loud I could hear it.

    Heavy, too — funny how all those little driblets could add up.

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