Sweet uncanny Valley

Went on a lovely mini-break last weekend at Latschky's holiday house, Rancho Relaxo. I dropped into a couple of the local oppys to see if they had any old Sweet Valley Highs (I'm re-collecting them so that I can pass them onto any future daughter/niece I might have- their Reaganistic values and appalling reverence for size-six blondes must not be lost to the next generation) and was lucky enough to find these three.




Once I got them home to the Ranch, Latschky fell upon The New Jessica as I melted into a tasteful leather lounger and immediately succumbed to an afternoon nap. I was awoken eighteen minutes later by a 136-page paperback to the gob and Latschky bellowing "Frak that was boring! (or did I mishear..?) Gimme the other ones!"

Whereupon we discovered Tarnished Victory was not of Pascal's ghostwritten oevre... a flip to the frontispiece revealed that the impostor imprint had been so seditious as to poach James Mathewuse for the cover art!  We felt a slightly sickening yet exhilarating lurch as the poles of our planet shifted (though... it could have just been the aftershocks of the bottle of rosé we'd knocked over at lunch?) Could it be possible that there was an alternate-universe bizzarro-Sweet Valley? We began to imagine the equal-and-opposite fictive scenario necessary to keep the space-time continuum in equilibrium. Despite her childhood devotion to the series and knowledge of the Blonde Ones' progenitor's Semitic roots, Latschky, also of the blood pure, had always been disquieted by the pervasively Aryan overtones that surrounds the Wakefield clones.

We began to speculate on the possible adventures of Rachel and Ruthie, silkily brunette, identical size-six (but zaftig-with-it!) twin beauties in possession of matching gold Stars of David (gifts from their Savta on the occasion of their sixteenth birthday), who share ownership of a powder-blue MINI Cooper- but that's where the similarity ends! Rach spends her weekends cruising Miu Miu at Chadstone and ably juggling the affections of compelling badboys Jacob Schwartz and Josh Feingold. Meanwhile Ruthie's bent over schoolbooks with longtime main-mensch Abram Presser. Ruthie's a future Juris Doctor or MD, she can't decide- and with her marks the choice will be hers! Yet, in spite their differences, there is one thing both girls can always be relied on to show up for- Friday-night dinner!

Alas, turning the dried pages of Tarnished Victory revealed the little town of 'Laurel Heights' to be full of Arlenes and Lindas, Johns and Brians just as vapid and goyish as their California counterparts. But we're going to call Random House. This pair of Elizabeths has one hell of a pitch!