I finished
Little Stalker last night, on my Kindle (still major 'Eeeeeeee!' factor there). One of the reasons I chose it, to be honest, was that it was four dollars and some cents for Kindle. I admit it, I'm cheap, even if The Magnificent Kindle may be an Extravagant Awesomeness.
If I'm not mistaken (but let's be honest here, I often am), Meg Cabot (an author) mentioned Little Stalker on her blog. I can't recall what was said about it, but it must have been enough for me to have put it on my wishlist, because... well. It was on my wishlist. [edit: I searched my RSS reader and found it was actually Sarah Dessen. I told you so!]
Ultimately, I'm pretty disappointed in this book. While I didn't hate it, it left me unfulfilled. The plot/story never felt real to me. I didn't like the main character's boyfriend, or that the way she let things carry on with Arthur Weeman as they did without alerting someone. Her father was frustrating, and it seems to me he shouldn't be allowed to practice medicine if he can't remember anything. There were a lot of subplots spread to and fro about the novel, which just made it more confusing. The only thing I really liked about the book was Mrs. Williams.
So... I didn't like it much. I could sit here all day listing things I didn't understand or frustrated me, but I'm not. It was quirky, certainly, but... eh. That's all I have to say. I really don't want to go on.
Which isn't to say you wouldn't like it. I hate not liking things. I'd love to love it, but I didn't. I'm conflicted.
On a less confusing note, I started reading Little Women today. I've seen many movie versions of it (love the one with Katharine Hepburn! Ahh!) and read an abridged edition in fourth grade, but I've never read it in its entirety. Loving it so far.
[and tomorrow's my birthday. I feel I must say this as often as possible.]