Scones and Sensibility

By Lindsay Eland

Seek tirelessly and you shall not find a contemporary heroine of middle-grade literature as refined and romantic as Miss Polly Madassa. Still swooning over the romantic conclusions of Pride ? Polly must find a match for Mr. Fisk. And while she's at it, it wouldn't hurt to find Clementine, Polly's teenaged sister, a beau worthy of her (so she can shed that brute, Clint). Polly's plans are in full swing, so she definitely cannot be bothered by the advances of classmate Brad Barker. But maybe Polly should have turned her attention to Miss Austen's Emma next, because she quickly learns the pitfalls of playing matchmaker. How will Polly patch up her own relationships, while ensuring that destined love can take its course?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Aug 1, 2009
• ISBN: 9781606844830

Lindsay Eland

Lindsay Eland is the middle of three girls. She often had to wait for the bathroom, share a room and a bed with her sister, and sometimes felt forgotten. (Even so, she has always adored both of her sisters.) She has published one previous novel, Scones and Sensibility. Lindsay lives in Colorado with her husband and four children. You can visit Lindsay online at www.lindsayeland.com and follow her on twitter @lindsayeland.

Book preview

chapter one

In Which My Family Is Introduced and

I Contemplate the Less-Than-Desirable

Traits of My Dear Sister’s Boyfriend

It was upon turning the last delicate page of my leather-bound copy of Pride and Prejudice that my transformation into a delicate lady of quality was complete.

Indeed, I had always been a romantic, and those dearest to me—my parents, whose love was like that in a fairy tale; my elder sister, Clementine; and my bosom friend, Fran Fisk, who I have known since preschool—can attest to this fact.

Tea parties with cucumber sandwiches had been my activity of choice since I was but a child of five. Most of my clothing from the time I took a breath in this world bore lace and ruffles (except during the unfortunate camping trip where I was forced into cutoff jeans and a tank top that bore the word WHASSUP?).

And in the fourth grade, after reading Anne of Green Gables, I formed a club with my dearest Fran and for months we reenacted the scenes from that most beloved book. But Fran was not nearly as entranced by the story as I was and became tired of watching me float down the river on her hot-pink raft whispering the verses to The Lady of Shalott.

But we were friends born for each other’s confidence and no amount of Lady of Shalott could tear us asunder.

So I do not think that Fran was surprised when I finished Pride and Prejudice just three months ago and announced that I would no longer remain a material girl living in a material world, but would rather grasp on to the skirts of those elegant women before me and become at once a young lady of impeccable breeding, diction, and manner.

Thus it was, as I reclined in my bedroom contemplating these things, that I was suddenly overcome with the summer’s brilliance and glory. The air was thick and sweet like a newly blossomed hydrangea, and the smell of the salt water hanging on to the breeze like clothes pinned delicately on a line was intoxicating.

On most summer morns I woke to the enticing aromas of fresh-baked bagels, pastries, and croissants. My parents, my sister, and I lived above our quaint bakery (what could be more romantic?!) just a stroll away from the boardwalk and the wild open sea.

I will say it once more: on most mornings.

As I sat up on that first day of summer, however, I knew my dearest elder sister had been in charge of the baking because the scent of burnt sugar swept under my door and overtook the breeze that blew in gentle and calm from my open window.

From below she stirred up a batter of cusswords that caused me to blush. It was definitely not the way any lady should behave, but my sister was a modern sixteen-year-old, whereas I, as my parents often stated, had become a twelve-year-old, nineteenth-century girl trapped in the twenty-first century.

And of this, I assure you, I am most proud.

A gray stream of smoke poured under my doorway. One, I counted, slipping out of my white linen nightgown and putting on my favorite summer dress—the one with the blue gingham pattern and the delicate ruffles along the collar. Two. I heard Mama’s soft footsteps coming from her room as she made her way down the stairwell. Three, I said, just as the smoke alarm went off and another string of profanity wafted along with the smoke up through the grate and into my bedroom.

The burnt pastries and muffins, the charred bagels and breads. It was all inevitable when Clementine worked the morning bake shift, so I knew there was no reason for alarm. Instead, I exited my room with the white embroidered handkerchief my bosom friend Fran had given me for my birthday pressed against my nose. The smoke alarm blared above my head, so I delicately stepped up onto the stool I kept close for occasions such as these and waved my handkerchief back and forth until the abominable beeping ceased.

This stupid oven burns everything! I heard Clementine lament from below. Everything!

I sighed. My dear sister and I were but four years apart, but the distance seemed to have grown between us since she had reached the ripe age of sixteen. In our younger years, the two of us, our windblown curls streaming behind us, would spend hours together during the long, sun-kissed summers. Indeed, our beloved pastimes included: collecting seashells together, embarking on bicycle rides down to the local corner store, and spending the rainy days creating dainty bracelets and necklaces or improving our artistic eye with painting and drawing.

I lingered on the stairs, sighing over these memories. Indeed, I wished that once more the two of us would be entwined in sisterly affection and she would cease the habits that had become increasingly irritating as of late. Habits such as speaking for hours on the telephone with any number of boys (note that I do not call them gentlemen) and listening to blaring music much too loud for the entire household to bear, let alone for her to hear my remarks on propriety. And never having any time for the sister she had both loved and adored since birth.

Downstairs, Mama comforted Clementine, her tan arm wrapped around my sister’s shoulders, which were splattered with flour and powdered sugar.

Papa walked in through the door with a bouquet of wildflowers in his hands.

What’s all this? he asked, cradling my mother to his broad chest and kissing her lightly on the forehead. I walked over and hugged him around the waist and he gave me a small kiss on my alabaster cheek.

Clementine threw up her hands. I’ve burnt the dumb pumpkin loaves again, that’s what all this is! A pout formed on her lips. Though self-control was not her strong point, and her temper was often painful to watch, her brow did curve downward in a very graceful arc when she was angered. I often attempted the same look in my mirror, but it never looked quite as regal. And I told Clint to come by ’cause they’re his favorite. Now what’ll I give him? I bit my tongue to stop the words that pushed to come out. Clint was my sister’s newest boyfriend and one I heartily disapproved of.

His looks were pleasing to the eye, but beyond that his appeal lessened considerably. Not only had he made my lovely sister weep on numerous occasions, but never once had he given her flowers, opened her door, or given her any other tokens of affection that a woman desires from a suitor. He was a bore in my opinion and not nearly deserving of my darling sister. He insisted on referring to me as Pol and refused to allow me to join them on any of their evening walks, even though I could practically feel my sister’s desperate yearning for me to join them pulsing in the air. He also insisted on addressing my parents by their given names: Judy (though her real name is Judith) and Sam (though his real name is Samuel).

I had desired the end of their connection practically before it commenced. Indeed, I often wished that I could find a more suitable beau for my dear Clementine. And seeing as I had such extensive knowledge on the subject of love and romance from my reading of Jane Austen, I was quite willing and prepared for the task.

The idea had merit, and I tucked it away for further contemplation.

Not to worry, Clemmy, Papa said, taking the scorched loaves to the counter and wrapping each loaf in plastic wrap. We’ll sell them for a dollar each like we do the day-olds. We Madassas can fix anything. As for Clint, I bet he’d love one of our giant blueberry muffins.

The blackened loaves sat like large bricks in the wicker basket. In my opinion, it would have been better if they were completely incinerated in the oven rather than served to the waiting public. Really, I had no idea why Mama and Papa had given Clementine the task to begin with. Your sister needs more responsibility, and besides we need the help during the busy summer season is all Papa said when I had asked him the reason. But it didn’t seem like things were busy enough to plunge the family business into financial hardship by letting Clementine attempt the morning baking. When I expressed this to him on another occasion, he replied, You’re being overly dramatic, Polly.

Of course, I had nothing against my beloved sister—I loved her dearly as my own flesh and blood—but when you do not have a gift for baking, why force the matter?

I know just how to soothe a disturbed and distressed spirit, my dearest sister. Come along and we shall frolic together among the salty waves of the sea! We shall bask in the sun’s lovely rays, I said, reaching for her hand.

But Clementine turned toward me, her hands on her hips, with quite an exasperated look upon her face. You’re kidding, right, Polly? I don’t have time for stupid stuff like that, especially when I burnt the stupid pumpkin bread and now I have to give Clint a stupid blueberry muffin.

My spirit sank low at her harsh choice of words, and hot tears threatened to cascade down my cheeks. Well, you don’t have to be so mean about it, I snapped back. I was just trying to help. You’re never any fun anymore!

Mama wrapped her arms around me. Thanks for trying, Polly. But it’s not you, really, it’s just … everything right now.

Clementine tore off her apron in a manner most unbecoming of a girl her age and flopped onto a nearby chair. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she huffed most indignantly.

I smiled at my mother and attempted to arch my eyebrows in disapproval of my sister’s behavior, but she had already turned her back on me and was busily lamenting the tragedies of the blackened bricks of bread, adding stupid to most every noun in her sentence.

So instead of lingering, I made my way into our small but sufficient family kitchen. There were day-old raspberry croissants sitting on the counter and I picked one up, nibbling the end as daintily as I imagined Miss Elizabeth Bennet would do. Now if only there was a bit of needlework about that needed to be completed—then I would be even more like that enchanting heroine.

But since there was none, I sighed, Ah, me, and gazed out the window at the early-morning sun peeking its golden eye into the kitchen and kissing me with its tender rays. I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the heavens. Its beams soothed my recently rumpled spirit. Indeed I know of no one that could not be at ease with the sun casting its smile upon the earth.

I slipped out the front door, hoping to go quite unnoticed by my family since this wondrous morning should not be spent in a bakery, no matter how quaint and romantic the bakery was.

I sat myself upon the lush grass and leaned back to face the bright blue sky. There, I closed my eyes and imagined I was a wealthy maiden cast out of her family’s castle for falling in love with a stableboy named Free-drick (for I much preferred this pronunciation to the ordinary Fred-rick). Here, in the Meadow of Wandering Dreams, he was to meet me.

But what is taking him so long? I wondered aloud.

The screen door creaked open behind me and I heard Clementine’s voice. Polly, what are you doing?

I sat up and turned to her. Oh Clementine, I am just soaking in the rays of love and life! I stood up and reached out my hand. Will you not take a turn with me out in the sunshine? I twirled my way toward her, my dress billowing out around me like flower petals.

She rolled her eyes. Polly, you’re acting ridiculous. And you better come and help me or Mom’ll have your head. The morning rush is starting and you’re out here blabbering on about God knows what.

I sighed and I resigned myself to the task at hand. Mama said that I only have to help with the bakery duties twice a week, dear Clementine. This will be my second time, so, yes, I shall be there momentarily.

Whatever, Polly.

chapter two

In Which I Act as Patroness

of the Bakery and I Suspect Discontent

in My Bosom Friend

In the midst of the busy bakery I was able to tend to our beloved customers despite the glories of sunshine, flowers, and the wild ocean wind that beckoned from outside. Indeed, we had quite a number of loyal customers and it was always a joy to serve them.

And what may I get for you this exquisite morning, Mrs. Sanders?

The young woman smiled, a pretty dimple sitting quite happily in her right cheek. Ah, I had wished upon all things that I had been born with a dimple, but alas, I was not. And no amount of biting my cheek or drawing one on my face with a pen had sufficed. The usual, if you have any left, she replied.

I smiled and examined our bakery case for the delectable cinnamon streusel muffin she adored so much and retrieved one from the case and placed it on a plate. Indeed I do. It’s the last one and I am so glad it is yours.

Mrs. Sanders was a good-natured woman of thirty-six who had recently moved to our fair town with her husband to assist with his aging mother, and had visited us most mornings since her arrival. She was a pleasant woman, though shy in manner.

I then assisted Miss Morgan, who was quite taken with the buttercream muffin, five people whose names were unknown to me and who had a certain fetish for our walnut Danish, and Mr. Lampert, who was making his way down our menu and ordered the quite scrumptious chocolate chip Danish.

And then there was Clint, who entered our sophisticated bakery like a great boorish beast and leaned on the counter. Hey, Pol. Clemmy said she’d make me some pumpkin loaves this morning.

I arched an eyebrow at him and lifted my nose into the air at his behavior.

But before I could utter a word, Clementine, who had left me momentarily to bring out more clean dishes, came through the door.

Hey, Clint, she said, her cheeks blushing to a rosy hue. I’m glad you came.

He smiled and leaned over, his arms practically lying across the counter. Hey, can you take a break and eat with me?

Clementine looked upon me and smiled. I’ll just be a few minutes, Polly, she said, taking off her apron and coming from behind the counter before I could make any protestation. Thanks!

Indeed! I stated, and watched them with extreme disapproval as they found a seat and began whispering together.

After assisting two other customers, I determined to put an end to Clint and Clementine’s rendezvous. It was my duty as a sister to aid her.

So unwrapping one of the hardened pumpkin loaves, which could be likened now to a lump of coal, I took up a plate and walked over to the table where they sat in deepest conversation. Then, placing the plate down rather hard upon the table, I dumped the loaf onto the plate, where it most likely cracked the white porcelain. Here’s your pumpkin loaf, Clint. Clemmy made them extra hard just for you. Now come along with me, Clementine. You must assist me behind the counter.

Clementine glared at me quite viciously, but I chose to ignore it, for I knew that in saving her from further conversation with this horrible boy, I was in the right.

And as Clementine and I continued to assist customers, I found enjoyment in watching Clint attempt to eat the loaf, which I knew to be quite impossible. After having spent some time gnawing on the blackened crust, he gave up and rejoined Clementine at the counter. You might need to work on those loaves, Clemmy, I heard him say. I almost broke a tooth biting into it. And then thankfully he left the bakery and the sun seemed to shine once more.

Humph, I said. Perhaps tomorrow we may be so lucky that he will indeed break a tooth. But one can only hope.

Can it, Polly, Clementine huffed, and left me to attend to the other waiting customers.

The morning continued on, and in between tending to our patrons, I was able to reread little snippets of Pride and Prejudice and relish in the words and romance that leapt off the page at me.

Indeed I was so enraptured by the scene where Miss Elizabeth Bennet meets Mr. Darcy for the first time that I did not notice my bosom friend enter with her beloved father, Mr. Fisk.

Hey, Polly! Fran said, startling me to the present.

I placed the book upon the counter and grasped her hands in mine, noticing a brand-new friendship bracelet encircling her delicate wrist. Indeed, Fran enjoyed making these bracelets more than any other activity, it seemed. She had even recently declared that she hoped to be a jeweler when she grew up, which I thought very romantic indeed.

Hey, Fran! I mean … why dearest Fran, Mr. Fisk. What a pleasant surprise to find you in our midst!

Mr. Fisk smiled. I’ve been craving one of your cinnamon rolls and coffee for the past few days. And well, Fran and me get a bit … lonely sometimes bumping around our house with just the two of us. So I said, ‘what the heck,’ turned off my computer, and here we are.

Well, it is wonderful indeed! I proclaimed, though I was quite alarmed at Mr. Fisk’s use of the word lonely. He had never used such a word before. Though I must admit I had yearned to hear just such a sentiment.

Three years ago my best friend and her beloved father found out that Mrs. Fisk had fallen deeply and completely in love with a man she had met on the computer.

No one had heard from her since.

Were he and my dearest friend really … lonely? The thought was disconcerting, though a part of me

Reviews for Scones and Sensibility

[cheryl_in_cc_nv · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Children age 12 are going through a phase of development in which they're working hard to understand others' perspectives. If Polly were younger, or a teen, her self-absorption would have been forgivable, but as written she was just unbelievable. Even more unbelievable were all the other characters except for her sister and friend, who tried to teach the little brat a lesson.

Now, I've not yet read Austen, and wasn't terribly taken with Anne Shirley - perhaps if I were a fan, this book would have meant something different to me. As is, I'm thinking I may never bother with Austen after all....

[rubyslippersreads · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This was cute, and as someone else said, more Emma than Pride & Prejudice.

[cbl_tn · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Inspired by the books she loves so much and encouraged by her success with canine matchmaking, 12-year-old Polly Madassa vows to spend her summer finding matches for the special people in her life. She's as effective as the boy scout who drags the elderly woman across the street only to learn that she didn't want to cross the street in the first place.This was an interesting idea that didn't live up to its promise. Polly uses Pride and Prejudice as the pattern for her speech and behavior. It was cute for a while, but the charm wore off well before I reached the end of the book's 300 pages. The device would have worked better in a shorter book. I doubt that many of the tweens in the book's target audience will have read Pride and Prejudice. Teen readers are more likely to have read that book, but they probably wouldn't want to read a book with a 12-year-old heroine.

[jasminemarie · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I chose to read this book because of the beautiful artwork on the cover. The story sounded intriguing from the recipe on the back and I was sold. Unfortunately, the story itself wasn't as great as I was expecting.The main character, Polly is a very bookish young lady of 12 years. She loves Jane Austen (Pride and Prejudice in particular) and Anne of Green Gables. She loves all the romance of the books - the language, the relationships, everything. So much so that she models her own life after her favorite characters.She speaks the way Elizabeth Bennett would speak in Pride and Prejudice. This is cute for the first half of the book or so, but it gets pretty aggravating towards the end. For me, it was hard to believe that a 12-year old would maintain speaking so grandiosely throughout the WHOLE book. It reminded me of the old TV Show, Dawson's Creek, because the characters on the show did not speak like normal teenagers would. They spoke fast and furious and the vocabulary they used was definitely above average for a teen. The main character in this book does the same thing and I'm surprised that her family and friends put up with it for so long. I think this is an issue for this book because it would be hard for a pre-teen/tween to read and understand. The language of Jane Austen is not easy to read even for adults. I had to re-read a lot of passages myself just to understand what Polly was really saying.Polly decides to play match-maker on her summer break to the fellow people in her seaside town. Her ideas of romance, however, seem to muddle her ability to see that she is just meddling in everyone's business.What I did enjoy about this book was the fact that Polly's family owned a bakery and the author's descriptions of all the yummy pastries that Polly would deliver sounded very delicious. Even though Polly is overly meddlesome and the language gets old after awhile, you do believe in her and root for her (at least for most of the story) because she really does have good intentions even if she going about it in all the wrong ways.Overall:It was an okay book. It was quick to read and I think the pre-teens/tweens might enjoy it if they are familiar with Jane Austen and Anne of Green Gables. Otherwise, I'd pass on it.

[roses7184_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

One of the main reasons I choose to read and review Middle Grade fiction, is that it tends to get overlooked. Out there in the wide world of YA it's easy for the Middle Grade novel, the younger brother let's call him, to get pushed out of the limelight. In actuality there are a ton of really great MG titles out there just calling for readers! So, I go in search of them, I devour them, then I share them with you fine people.

In honor of Polly's antiquated way of speaking, I hereby declare her the most winsome character I have ever met. Her obsession with the novels of Jane Austen and Lucy Maud Montgomery falls in step perfectly with my own youth. Reading and re-reading these classic tales, she allows them to inspire the way that she dresses, her mannerisms, and even the way that she talks to others. I was smitten instantly with Polly's personality! She is much different than most of the younger protagonists I have read before. I giggled out loud when she would accidentally switch from her proper English speech to teenage slang in a ft of excitement. Polly is a sweetheart, plain and simple.

As a twelve year old girl, of course Polly has yet to experience love. Instead, all of her notions about the subject come from the books that she so adores. Which would be fine normally. I mean what girl wouldn't want to be caught up in an age of chivalry and romance? However Polly decides that it is her duty to take up matchmaking, allowing those around her to experience the undying love of Elizabeth and Mr.Darcy. What ensues was so comedic, so sweet, that I literally burst out laughing more than once! Polly's matches end up a little differently than she expects, and our brave, young heroine must learn to put things right.

What I really loved about the whole story was the underlying current of friendship. Underneath all the Austen, all the silliness, was a moral about being a good friend. Polly may not end up with the summer of romance that she was anticipating, but she does learn a lot about real love and what it means. It was refreshing to see such a charming young girl grow up so much in such a short number of pages.

Long story short, I adored this book with all my heart. I will, however, admit that it is probably not for everyone. I've seen others peg Polly as annoying, and I can see where that might stem from. You really need to have a love for MG characters and watching them grow up. You also need to be able to take everything she says and does with a smile and a grain of salt. She's young, people. We were all young once. I for one am proud that Polly has her head in the clouds, and hope she continues it as long as she can! Real teenage life is not nearly as fun.

As I skip off into the distance, my embroidered handkerchief pressed against my bosom, I leave you with one thought. Isn't it time you gave yourself a break from teenage angst and love triangles? If you answered yes, this book is your answer. Sweet, a little bit silly, and very charming, this book is sure to sweep you off your feet! Scones not included.

[stephxsu · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

12-year-old Polly Madassa is more often than not living inside her head, where she can be a romantic heroine like Elizabeth Bennet or Anne Shirley, instead of the daughter of two bakers in a small New Jersey oceanside town. Despite having to spend her summer delivering baked goods, however, Polly decides that she will also exercise her romantic sensibilities and love matches for her best friend’s single father, her neighbors, and her older sister, whose current boyfriend is far from ideal. Things in real life don’t usually work out the way they do in books, though…SCONES AND SENSIBILITY, Lindsay Eland’s debut novel, introduces to us a quirky yet endearing heroine who will probably remind us all too well of ourselves, especially if you are, too, a fan of Anne Shirley and Elizabeth Bronte. Its romantic affectations may make it appeal more to older readers instead of its intended middle-grade audience, but readers of all age will be able to laugh at Polly’s misconceptions and mistakes, and smile as she grows up and discovers the difference between fiction and reality.Polly’s voice and narration—so influenced by what she feels is a more romantic way of talking—is the make-it-or-break-it element of this book. I can certainly recall many moments when I wish my life were like Anne Shirley’s, or if I lived in Anne’s world, where mishaps lead to endearments, and every girl found a horribly romantic and swoon-worthy Gilbert Blythe-esque figure. On the other hand, I also never actually allowed myself to talk in the way Polly does, because I probably would’ve been laughed out of the state. Polly’s overuse of “indeeds,” “trulys,” and other words may get on readers’ nerves, even those who liked Montgomery and Austen’s writing.In a way, Polly exists in her own little world that’s difficult to place in a contemporary setting. She’s a 12-year-old growing up in 21st-century America, but her speech and her social concerns aren’t anything like what I remember thinking about when I was 12. Polly’s romantic imagination makes her sound younger than her age, and yet the language of the book may be slightly more sophisticated than the age of readers who’d perhaps find Polly the most entertaining.SCONES AND SENSIBILITY, then, is most fun in a retrospective sort of way. Readers who will be able to best enjoy Polly’s adventures will be the ones who can still remember the magic that Green Gables and Regency England held for them, but are old enough to have some distance from their childhood infatuations. It’s a challenging book to market as a result, but if mothers buy this book for their daughters, they’ll surely be able to enjoy it themselves as well.

[mjmbecky · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I really wanted to like this book, with its cute premise of a young girl infatuated with all things Jane Austen, the pastry shop, and multiple courtships, but I just didn't. While it might be because the 12 year old character Polly grated on my nerves with her endless talking as if she somehow was a Romantic period character, I simply couldn't shake my annoyance over her behavior. Yes, Polly was cute, the way a 12-year old is supposed to be cute, but I didn't really believe her either. I couldn't see a girl of her age getting Jane Austen the way she claimed, and if she did, I couldn't help but feel that this little girl needed more experiences to add to her fantasies.On the cuteness factor, this story is definitely that...cute. I really would like to hand the book over to a younger reader to see how they respond. Although not realistic in a lot of ways, I suppose that really is what reading is about, a fantasy story that asks "what if" for us. So, maybe Polly is this Austen fan at 12, and maybe she does speak in an antiquated British speech...nonstop. I, however, think that for the story and the maturity of the characters, that it seemed too juvenile. Cute story, but a bit too formulaic for me. Sorry.

[bell7_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

If Anne Shirley and Emma Woodhouse combined decided that Diana Barry's Aunt Jo needed to get married, the result might be something like Polly Madassa in Scones and Sensibility. Twelve-year-old Polly, lover of Anne of Green Gables and Pride and Prejudice determines to right romantic wrongs for her older sister Clementine, whose boyfriend is so not right for her; her bosom friend's father; and her neighbor, Miss Whitaker. To Polly's dismay, the course to true love - or at least, the ones she imagines for everyone - does not run smoothly, as her family and friends do not have love lives like that of her favorite heroines.Polly is a precocious character in reading, but not so much in social skills. She's twelve, but she's already read (and loves) Pride and Prejudice and has started mimicking the vocabulary of her favorite books. She's a little over-dramatic at times and pretty much has blinders on when it comes to reading situations and other people. But she is funny and endearing and - I have to say it - annoying, too. I think it may be because I'm an oldest child, but I really found myself relating to and sympathizing with Clemmy much more than I did Polly, who feels left behind now that her older sister is dating and not spending as much time with her as she used to. A cute read, though, that I would recommend to older elementary kids who enjoyed Anne of Green Gables.

[ylin20621 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Scones and Sensibility when first revealed is a charming book with an equally charming main character. The novelty soon dies in the middle of the book where I suggest that the reader set the book down for a few hours. Polly Madassa is someone who believes in true love but her idea of finding love comes from a novel. This is where things go downhill. Love cannot be dictated by an outside source just as Polly finds out at the end of the book when every blind date she’s prepared turns out disastrous. From kites running amok, to getting your best friend’s dad’s date handcuffed, to making your sister hate your guts, Polly risks it all to find the “perfect” match for her love ones—even at the cost of their own love interest. Her heart’s in the right place but she sometimes takes things just too far as Polly’s bosom friend lets her know. Polly’s interference at love starts out charming even adorable but takes on an annoying tone later on. That was where the book lost some of its novelty. I thought the little slip ups with Polly’s speech from Jane Austen to modern day 12 year old gave the reader insight how Polly is just a regular girl. And Polly’s own little love trouble makes the book more squealish. I enjoy the terms of affection that she used, I mean “boson friend” how cute is that? (My friend uses the term butt buddy (which makes me think of bubble buddy from Spongebob Squarepants) so I like to squish the two terms together to make bosom buddy.) The antics of Polly were sweet but grew frustrating when Polly would not listen to sound advice. The ending, of course, was a bit to be expected with Polly finally deciding that love cannot be messed with but ending with at least one good match that Polly had made. It was a happy ending for all as everyone found some kindling of love even if Polly did not help set up. Overall: Cute as a Danish. But sometimes too many Danishes can have its faults.

[krau0098 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

To be perfectly honest, I picked up this book because I loved the cover...that and I like Jane Austen. It was a cute, fun, silly, and quick read. I enjoyed it.12 year old Polly Madessa has just finished reading "Pride and Prejudice" and has decided that she has a new goal for the summer...to make people fall in love. In between delivering pastries for her parents' bakery she works to push people together and pull people apart (when she doesn't think they are well suited). In general she makes one heck of a mess out of people's lives with her good intentions. In the end she learns that maybe love in real life is different from a book.The story is delivered from the viewpoint of Polly. Polly delivers the whole story in "Pride and Prejudice" like flowery language. Polly also speaks to everyone one in this descriptive, beautiful, and yet out-dated way. Her parents take it in stride, as does her best friend, and it drives her older sister crazy. I thought the way the book was written was okay. At points Polly's language is beautiful and her descriptions of walks on the beach really made me yearn for summer; at other points Polly is just plain silly.Polly's silliness is part of the charm of the book. I can see where some people might find her annoying, yet, if you approach the story with a sense of whimsy and humor...Polly is just a silly and cute twelve year old girl that is trying to match people's lives to the romantic fantasy she has pictured in her head.Neither the writing style nor the content of this book is ground-breaking or amazing; at times the writing style is a bit immature (remember it is supposed to be a 12 year old writing it). Yet, the book has a certain charm to it and makes for a fun quick, light read. This is definitely a girly book and is cutesy and funny. Not something I would read all the time, but it was a fun bit of fluff to break up more serious reads. This book is suited for a younger female audience; older teens and adults might also enjoy it.If you are looking for something a bit silly, kind of cute, sugary and fun this book meets all those requirements and has a sort of charm to it that makes it a fun read. If you are looking for something of Jane Austen proportions, then this book might be a bit immature for you. Still it is a quick read and is a bit of girly fun, so check it out if that appeals to you.