So, ummm.maybe you'll understand why I feel hesitant in making broad declarations about what Crusader is or how it reads or if it's as well as Bloor's debut. How had he changed? Would he still love me? What fun would we have together this time around? (I'm not a dork - bottled up anticipation and longing will do that to anyone.) So in love was I with Edward Bloor's prose that the arrival of Crusader made me weak in the knees - as if, perhaps, my summertime boyfriend had finally arrived at the resort that our families enjoyed year after year. When Crusader fell out of its mailing envelope, I screamed in delight. I built a shrine for Tangerine on my bookshelf (yes! no lie!), so dazzled was I by Bloor's thought-provoking tale. I, for one, hadn't read such a thirst-quenching story in ages. Paul Fisher, that soccer-playing wonder with bottle-thick glasses and a heart of gold, leapt into adolescent literature and surprised thousands of us. In his bright debut, Tangerine, author Edward Bloor introduced us to a legally blind kid who, frankly, sees reality a heck of a lot better than anyone around him.
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