THE SELECTION & THE ELITE

I judge books by their covers.

Sometimes, I don’t even read the jacket or back—I go by the cover alone. I won’t deny that I do this. Almost every book I’ve picked because I liked the cover has been a good choice. There was only one time where the cover didn’t work in my favor—even now I have to stop myself from picking up another book by that same author with an equally as gorgeous cover—but that’s the exception and not why I’m writing now.

I was stressed (Pitch Madness, etc.) and wanted a fluffy book—one that was light, entertaining, and took my mind off all the other things. My friend and I were at a bookstore browsing the YA shelves when a paperback caught my eye. A red-haired girl in a sleeveless frilly turquoise dress and I was hooked. This book would be fluffy, perfect. I didn’t even need to read the back. Before leaving the bookstore, I bought THE SELECTION by Kiera Cass.

Later when I started reading, I was sure the book confirmed my quick cover judgment. America, the main character, was a poor teenage girl in love with the boy next door and wanted nothing to do with a competition between thirty-five girls to win the heart of the country’s prince. More than anything, the setup of the competition reminded me of the TV show The Bachelor, which my friends and I obsessed over in college. We’d spent many hours in the common room laughing and shouting at the TV screen and the show’s ridiculousness, entertainment, drama.

Further reading confirmed THE SELECTION’s fluffiness. Of course the boy next door broke up with the poor teenage girl, who decided to try to enter the competition—and of course she got picked. She moved to the palace, into a life of luxury, with hopes only for money for her family and great food for herself. So far, so fluffy.

Even once America started to fall for the prince, I was still comfortable with my book choice. Of course she would fall for the prince, otherwise there was no reason to write the book. But somewhere along the line, the book picked up subplots that weren’t so fluffy. I’m not just talking about the petty bickering—The Bachelor style—between the Selection girls. America’s maids were whispering about things they didn’t want America to hear, one of America’s friends was keeping a secret, rebels attacked the palace, and there was something funny about that prince. It wasn’t fluffy anymore, but I couldn’t put it down.

Before I finished THE SELECTION—which, PSA, doesn’t really end—I stopped by a bookstore to buy its sequel, THE ELITE. I had to have it. Now, two days after getting THE ELITE, I’ve finished THE SELECTION and read all but sixty pages of THE ELITE. Without too much spoilage, I’ll say that I’m pretty sure there’s a dystopian subplot about to erupt and I know there’s something funny about that prince. I also know I’ll put off working on my own manuscript this evening to finish this Kiera Cass novel.

The only problem I have with this series is that the third book—THE ONE—doesn’t come out until May. It’s not really a problem, though, because I’ll enjoy rereading THE SELECTION and THE ELITE right before THE ONE is released. I’m glad I judged THE SELECTION by its cover, even if it wasn’t the fluffy book I’d imagined. In fact, I’m glad it wasn’t fluffy. Thank you, Kiera Cass.