It's lesbian pulp. That may mean something to you, maybe not. A poor girl, growing up in the south, quickly becomes comfortable with genitalia of both sexes, finds out she's a bastard, makes loves to another girl when she's in sixth grade, makes love to some cheerleader in high school, excels in school despite poverty, gets to college, sleeps with a sorority sister, gets kicked out, has to take a shit job, finds some solace in a friendship with a gay male, gets mixed up with older women, goes to film school, reconciles with her adoptive mother (in a way), and so forth.
This is the world of lesbian pulp. Nobody slows down for long thought-out emotional diatribes like in heterosexual literature. Nope. Stuff just happens. Girls just get things done. It's exciting. It's empowering. It makes me want to make love to a woman, but only the woman who is a protagonist in a lesbian pulp.
They sure do know themselves in this novel. Even the stand-out protagonist has become a stereotype over the last twenty years. This doesn't make the reading less entertaining or anything.
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