the awesome/terrifying freedom

i was on the subway this morning and the middle aged woman next to me was reading a book called 'died to match.' it had a bad oil painting cover with that big print signalling it as a teenage level bodice ripper. i was so struck by the title that i looked it up and found that its author, deborah donelly has also written 'may the best man die,' and 'veiled threats,' all revolving around some sort of wedding planner murder mystery scandal. i think 'died to match' is the best title. the implications of the double meaning make me think of a girl so obsessive about becoming popular that she fills her bathtub with rit dye to make her jeans the same indigo as the popular girl's and then slips, bangs her head on the faucet and drowns in the murky blue. later, at the funeral, her solemn face rests in the casket, permanently andorian.

and then i thought 'why is this 40 year old woman reading a book like 'died to match?'?? in new york city, there are so may possibilites. the sane ones suggest that she could be an editor for teen books. she could be deborah donnelly's book editor. hell, she chould have been deborah donnelly herself - although if it was, then deborah is pretty self obsessed. not a very cool thing to do, read your own book on the subway. she thinks she's so great 'oh look at me! i published a book!' or maybe she's pre-reading the book before giving it to her daughter, making sure that it won't inspire similar dye-related accidental deaths/suicides in her own family.