Meg Cabot, for me at least, was such an important part of my growing-up days. I remember the first Meg Cabot book I read was The Princess Diaries in the early 2000s, gifted by my favourite aunt ever.
I was this little seven or eight year old who was completely… enamoured with the book. I didn’t get it much (obviously, because I was seven) but it was so exciting. When I told my sister it had a “kissing” scene in it, the little brat told my mom and it was pretty much confiscated for a couple of years.
I don’t really remember the next Meg Cabot I read but it was definitely during my (now cringe-worthy) pre-teen years when:
a) You think the whole world revolves around you
b) Every single issue seems to be the biggest problem ever
When I read the Missing series, I was so taken with this whole idyllic world when you’re the most kick-ass person in three states, you’ve got the hottest boy giving you rides and you can make out with said boy in a barn (erotica for eleven year olds). And the Mediator series, where you can make out with ghosts, and Pants on Fire, where you can make out against a car and the Princess Diaries, which had the most (in my opinion) perfect guy. Ever.
Yeah, Michael Moscovitz still pretty much rules my world.
But moving on from the fact that it was erotica for my (somewhat) innocent mind… Meg Cabot books gave me hope. Hope that I’d always find an amazing guy to be with, have the best friends ever, have the best experiences ever, have a life, etc etc.
Today, I’d pick a Meg Cabot book over a Chuck Palahniuk book. Simply because it’s so easy. So fluffy. So funny.
It’s an escape.
I’ve read almost every single Meg Cabot book there is. I think she’s kind of losing her touch but that’s not the point. The point is that she’s a good author. Her books aren’t going to go into some Bookshelf of Classic Literature.
But for that half an hour I’m reading Meg Cabot, my life just seems lighter.
