Princess in Waiting (Princess Diaries Series #4), Vol. 4 by Meg Cabot

From Barnes & Noble

The Barnes & Noble Review
Meg Cabot continues the hilarious adventures of Mia Thermopolis, a very ordinary teenager whose life takes an extraordinary turn when she learns she's the heir apparent to the throne of a small European country. In this third installment of The Princess Diaries, Mia's self-deprecating wit, self-absorption, and adolescent angst are as entertaining as ever as she struggles with the realization that despite being a princess, she isn't guaranteed any fairy-tale endings.

Mia discovers yet another branch on the royal side of her family tree when she meets her cousin, Sebastiano, an up-and-coming fashion designer. Mia worries that Sebastiano might want her dead, since he's next in line to inherit the throne, she's not yet willing to toss him aside -- his dress creations are not only exquisite, they are perfectly tailored to bring out the best in Mia's flat-chested, big-footed physique. Life is looking better on other fronts as well, for Mia finally has a boyfriend. Unfortunately, it's Kenny, her study partner, good friend, and fellow classmate, whereas the real love of her life is Michael, the brother of Mia's best friend, Lilly. But not only does Michael seem clueless about Mia's affections; it looks like he has a girlfriend.

While bemoaning her inability to compete for Michael's affections, Mia spends her time trying to avoid Kenny's kisses, pondering the best way to break up with him even as she wonders why he hasn't asked her to the big Christmas dance. Adding to Mia's stresses are her upcoming final exams, her mother's incessant morning sickness, the usual unwanted media attention, and the ongoing torments of her fellow classmate and nemesis, Lana.

While Mia's sometimes simplistic view of life remains intact and her adolescent shallowness is often apparent, she also shows an evolving maturity as she prepares for her royal role under Grandmere's overbearing guidance. But never fear, the seriousness is kept in balance with plenty of fun, tons of laughs, and several amusing disasters. And, if Mia isn't careful, she might even get that fairy-tale ending. (Beth Amos)

From the Publisher

Never before has the world seen such a Princess.

Nor have her own subjects, for that matter. But Genovian politics are nothing next to Mia's real troubles. Between canceled dates with her long-sought-after royal consort, a second semester of the dreaded Algebra, more princess lessons from Grandmère, and the inability to stop gnawing on her fingernails, isn't there anything Mia is good at besides inheriting an unwanted royal title?

Buffalo News

A hilarious read.

Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books

A hilarious read.

Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books

It's got all the bubbly and frivolous pleasure of imported champagne, and readers will drink it in.

Twist

If girrrrl heroines are what you want, the hilarious Princess Diaries has a winner in sassy Mia.

Publishers Weekly

Her Royal Highness Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo of Genovia, also known as Mia, prepares to meet the populace of her newfound kingdom all while trying to dump one boyfriend for another in Princess in Love, the third in the Princess Diaries series by Meg Cabot. (Apr.) Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.

Publishers Weekly

"This is how NOT a princess I am. I am so NOT a princess that when my dad started telling me I was one, I totally started crying." Raised in a Greenwich Village loft in New York City by her flaky-but-loving artist mother, ninth grader Mia Thermopolis is shocked to learn from her father that she is now the heir apparent to Genovia, the tiny European kingdom he rules. Her paternal grandmother further disrupts Mia's life when she comes to town to mold the girl into a proper royal. Cabot's debut children's novel is essentially a classic makeover tale souped up on imperial steroids: a better haircut and an improved wardrobe garner Mia the attention of a hitherto unattainable boy. (Of course this boy isn't all he appears to be, and another boy--the true friend Mia mostly takes for granted--turns out to be Mr. Right.) A running gag involving sexual harassment (including a foot fetishist obsessed with Mia's best friend Lilly Moscovitz and a sidewalk groper dubbed the "Blind Guy") is more creepy than funny, and the portrayal of the self-conscious pseudo-zaniness of downtown life is over the top (Lilly's parents, both psychoanalysts, get Rolfed, practice t'ai chi and attend benefits for "the homosexual children of survivors of the Holocaust"). Though Mia's loopy narration has its charms and princess stories can be irresistible, a slapstick cartoonishness prevails here. Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.

KLIATT

Princess Mia is back, still struggling with life as a freshman at Albert Einstein High School and her crush on her best friend's older brother—not to mention the responsibility of being the heir to the throne of Genovia, a small European country. Her trials and tribulations in this latest outing include her mother's pregnancy (she's now married to Mia's algebra teacher), princess lessons from her imperious and scary Grandmère, and her boyfriend Kenny, who is wild about her though she isn't wild about him. Told in diary entries, à la Bridget Jones, Mia's hilarious account will delight middle school, junior high and even high school girls. Last year's Disney movie, The Princess Diaries, will increase interest in this new volume in the series. Enough is recapped so that new readers can pick the series up with this title. Here's hoping there are many more to come. My 14-year-old daughter gobbled this up in an evening. A great choice for reluctant readers. (The Princess Diaries, Vol. III) Category: Hardcover Fiction. KLIATT Codes: JS*—Exceptional book, recommended for junior and senior high school students. 2002, HarperCollins, 236p., $15.89. Ages 13 to 18. Reviewer: Paula Rohrlick; KLIATT SOURCE: KLIATT, March 2002 (Vol. 36, No. 2)

KLIATT

To quote the review of the hardcover in KLIATT, March 2003: Fourteen-year-old Mia attends a fancy prep school in New York City, adores her cat, Fat Louie, and her new boyfriend, Michael Moscovitz—and has recently discovered that she's the heiress to the throne of the (fictitious) small European country of Genovia. In this fourth volume of Mia's breezy, funny Bridget Jones-like diary recounting her adventures, she reluctantly spends Christmas vacation in Genovia attending official functions (straying somewhat from her prepared Christmas Eve speech by proposing parking meters for the country), receiving more dreaded lessons in becoming a proper princess from her imperious grandmother, and pining for Michael. She isn't overly impressed with herself for being a princess (though she notes, "scepter excellent for pushing back cuticles"), and makes fun of her playboy royal cousin Rene, whom her grandmother sees as a suitable escort for her and she views as a pest. In one amusing bit, she comments on a movie made of her life, and its inaccurate portrayal of her grandmother as kindly—clearly a little dig at the popular Disney movie of The Princess Diaries. Back in New York, Mia and her friends try to come up with a role model for romance (Jane Eyre, perhaps?), while Mia worries about her relationship with Michael and whether she has any talents at all. Needless to say, all ends happily. Fans of the series will be delighted to have more of Mia, and her chatty voice continues to charm. Reviewer: Paula Rohrlick

Nancy Zachary - VOYA

Readers will be delighted that charming Princess Mia is back, filling their heads with her frank inner monologue about high school romance, classwork, and the pressures of being a teen in this third installment of The Princess Diaries. She continues her story in diary format from the essay assignment about Thanksgiving until she leaves for Genovia for the Christmas holiday. Mia's open dialogue and activities are the material of girls' fantasies of becoming a real-life princess. The politically correct agenda she readily supports is proper and endearing, and those readers taken with fashion will appreciate her commentary declaring tangerine the new gray or white becoming the new black. This third volume is about boyfriends, kissing, stalking, anonymous notes, and Grandmére's love advice. The familiar cast of characters—best friend, Lilly, and her brother, Michael; Mom and Mr. G.; bodyguard Lars; Kenny; and Fat Louie—is back, creating an immediate intimacy with the reader. The twists and turns of the plot take a heartwarming roller coaster ride for the heir to the throne of her father's small Mediterranean country. Although Mia successfully has commanded attention on the silver screen, teens will find the readable princess more personal and sophisticated, a treasure for middle school girls. PLB

Alan Review

The Princess Diaries is the diary of Mia Thermopolis, who is living a confused and hard to believe life. She is the not most popular girl in school, but is in love with the most popular boy. She lives in New York City with her artist mom, who is divorced and is dating her algebra teacher — a class Mia is failing. One day, her father arrives and upsets her troubled life. He tells her that he has cancer, and then, to her disbelief, that she is the Princess of Genvoia. That's right! As it turns out, her father is not just the European politician he's always led to her believe, but actually the prince of a small country. Before long, the New York paparazzi arrive at her school and front door, eager to take pictures of real live princess. Offbeat Mia will win the hearts of teenage girls dying to fit in without too much fanfare, and Meg Cabot's writing is silly and entertaining enough to capture the fancy of young readers who are looking for a fun story about ordinary people caught in extraordinary circumstances. With tons of pop culture references, this book will make today's teens feel right at home. Genre: Fathers and Daughters/Identity 2000, HarperCollins, 238 pp., $15.95. Ages 12 up. Reviewer: Michelle Rich; Oviedo, Florida

Judy Chernak - Children's Literature

The erstwhile princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo, previously known—before that unfortunate communication from her unknown-but-true grandmother the queen of Genovia¾as just plain (very plain) New York schoolgirl Mia, continues her life, as it was and as it now must be. If that sentence exhausts you, you are now prepared to slide breathlessly through the pages of this third chapter in Mia's life, experiencing with her all the ups and downs of a barely-attractive klutz with weird friends, a boyfriend she doesn't want, a boy she wants as a boyfriend, embarrassments in school exceeded only by etiquette goofs with Grandmère the Queen, zits, kisses wanted and spurned, and all the other intricacies of adolescence compounded by her upcoming introduction into Genovian society. Believe me, the movie was only the beginning of this romp. Here's where you'll get all the yearned-for details. Teen-aged girls will love this book in its Passion Pink, crown-adorned dust jacket—it's just the ticket for keeping their dreams while cutting the strings from their Barbies. 2002, HarperCollins,

School Library Journal

Gr 6-9-In this frothy tale about the heir to the throne of Genovia, 14-year-old Mia wrestles royally with algebra at her New York City high school (her stepfather is her teacher), while learning Genovian protocol from her rigid grandmother, adding to the usual tale of teenage angst and drama. Through her diary entries, ranging from December 6 to her departure on December 20 for the tiny European nation that she will someday rule, readers follow Mia's ups and downs. Typical boyfriend troubles, a date for the Nondenominational Winter Dance (formerly Christmas Dance, which offended some students), and relationships with her friends are all part of the mix. Cabot has crafted characters who are recognizable in a plot that is fun to follow. A treat.-Lisa Denton, Oneida-Herkimer School Library System, Utica, NY Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.

ALA Booklist

She wines; she gloats; she cheers, worries, rants, raves; reading her journal is like reading a note from your best friend.

Kirkus Reviews

What is a princess to do when she doesn't feel sparks fly after kissing Kenny, her supposed boyfriend, because she's really in love with her best friend's brother, high-school senior Michael Moscovitz? And, oh yeah, Michael is probably falling for a girl who cloned a fruit fly, her mother is expecting the baby of her algebra teacher, no one has asked her to the Nondenominational Winter Dance (not even Kenny), and she has to prepare for her Christmas-time introduction to the populace of Genovia. Once again, Mia captures all her ups-and mostly downs-in her diary, which is all told in perfect teenage vernacular. But when some of her greatest dilemmas are discovering the nuances of French kissing and a one-day suspension for thwarting a student walkout, readers can't help but love this self-obsessed (i.e., normal) teenager. Princess lessons with Grandmere may be paying off in this volume, as Mia's self-deprecating humor gives way to a newfound spunkiness. The third in the series (Princess in the Spotlight, 2001, etc.) has the best ending yet, which proves that princesses-even tall, flat-chested, algebraically challenged ones-always find true love. (Fiction. 12-15)

What People Are Saying

Chris Sherman
Teens like novels written in diary format, and you can bet they'll be lining up for this hilarious story about a gawky 14-year-old New Yorker who learns she is a princess. Mia spends every available moment pouring her feelings into the journal her mother gave her: she writes during algebra class, in the ladies' room at the plaza (much nicer than the one in Tavern on the Green), in her grandmother's limousine. She writes down her thoughts on everything - from algebra and her mother's love life to her jet-setting father's announcement that she's the heir to the throne of the principality of Genovia. Then, of course, she records her grandmother's efforts to turn her into a princess, her dealings with classmates, the press, and a bodyguard, and also her attraction to the most gorgeous guy in school and her attempts to be assertive and happy with her new life. She whines; she gloats; she sheers, worries, rants, and raves. Reading her journal is like reading a note from your best friend. Cabot has a fine grasp of teen dialect (and punctuation), an off-the-wall sense of humor that will have readers laughing out loud, and a knack for creating fully realized teen and adult characters that readers will miss when the story ends.

Product Details

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• Read a Sample Chapter

Table of Contents

Read an Excerpt

English Class

Assignment (Due December 8): Here at Albert Einstein High School, we have a very diverse student population. Over one hundred and seventy different nations, religions, and ethnic groups are represented by our student body. In the space below, describe the manner in which your family celebrates the uniquely American holiday, Thanksgiving. Please utilize appropriate margins.

My Thanksgiving
by Mia Thermopolis

6:45 a.m. — Roused by the sound of my mother vomiting. She is well into her third month of pregnancy now. According to her obstetrician, all the throwing up should stop in the next trimester. I can't wait. I have been marking the days off on my 'N Sync calendar. (I don't really like 'N Sync. At least, not that much. My best friend, Lilly, bought me the calendar as a joke. Except that one guy really is pretty cute.)

7:45 a.m. — Mr. Gianini, my new stepfather, knocks on my door. Only now I am supposed to call him Frank. This is very difficult to remember due to the fact that at school, where he is my first-period Algebra teacher, I am supposed to call him Mr. Gianini. So I just don't call him anything (to his face).

It's time to get up, Mr. Gianini says. We are having Thanksgiving at his parents' house on Long Island. We have to leave now if we are going to beat the traffic.

8:45 a.m. — There is no traffic this early on Thanksgiving Day. We arrive at Mr. G's parents' house in Sagaponic three hours early.

Mrs. Gianini (Mr. Gianini's mother, not my mother. My mother is still Helen Thermopolis because she is a fairly wellknown modern painter under that name, and also because she does not believe in the cult of the patriarchy) is still in curlers. She looks very surprised. This might not only be because we arrived so early, but also because no sooner had my mother entered the house than she was forced to run for the bathroom with her hand pressed over her mouth, on account of the smell of the roasting turkey. I am hoping this means that my future half-brother or -sister is a vegetarian, since the smell of meat cooking used to make my mother hungry, not nauseated.

My mother had already informed me in the car on the way over from Manhattan that Mr. Gianini's parents are very old-fashioned and are used to enjoying a conventional Thanksgiving meal. She does not think they will appreciate hearing my traditional Thanksgiving speech about how the Pilgrims are guilty of committing mass genocide by giving their new Native American friends blankets filled with the smallpox virus, and that it is reprehensible that we as a country annually celebrate this rape and destruction of an entire culture.

Instead, my mother said, I should discuss more neutral topics, such as the weather.

I asked if it was all right if I discussed the astonishingly high rate of attendance at the Reykjavik opera house in Iceland (over 98 percent of the country's population has seen Tosca at least once).

My mother sighed and said, “If you must,” which I take to be a sign that she is beginning to tire of hearing about Iceland.

Well, I am sorry, but I find Iceland extremely fascinating, and I will not rest until I have visited the ice hotel.

9:45 a.m.–11:45 a.m. — I watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade with Mr. Gianini Senior in what he calls the rec room.

They don't have rec rooms in Manhattan.

Just lobbies.

Remembering my mother's warning, I refrain from repeating another one of my traditional holiday rants, that the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade is a gross example of American capitalism run amok.

At one point during the broadcast, I catch sight of Lilly standing in the crowd outside of Office Max on Broadway and Thirty-Seventh, her videocamera clutched to her slightly squished-in face (so much like a pug) as a float carrying Miss America and William Shatner of Star Trek fame passes by. So I know Lilly is going to take care of denouncing Macy's on the next episode of her public access television show, Lilly Tells It Like It Is (every Friday night at nine, Manhattan cable channel 67).

12:00 p.m. — Mr. Gianini Junior's sister arrives with her husband, their two kids, and the pumpkin pies. The kids, who are my age, are twins, a boy, Nathan, and a girl, Claire. I know right away Claire and I are not going to get along, because when we are introduced she looks me up and down the way the cheerleaders do in the hallway at school and goes, in a very snotty voice, “You're the one who's supposed to be a princess?”

And while I am perfectly aware that at five foot nine inches tall, with no visible breasts, feet the size of snowshoes, and hair that sits in a tuft on my head like the cotton on the end of a Q-tip, I am the biggest freak in the freshman class of Albert Einstein High School for Boys (made coeducational circa 1975), I do not appreciate being reminded of it by girls who do not even bother finding out that beneath this mutant facade beats the heart of a person who is only striving, just like everybody else in this world, to find self-actualization.

Not that I even care what Mr. Gianini's niece Claire thinks of me. I mean, she is wearing a pony-skin miniskirt. And it is not even imitation pony skin. She must know that a horse had to die just so she could have that skirt, but she obviously doesn't care...

Read a Sample Chapter

"If I was a princess," she murmured, "I could scatter largess to the populace. But even if I am only a pretend princess, I can invent little things to do for people. I'll pretend that to do things for people is scattering largess."

a little princess
Frances Hodgson Burnett

1. I will stop biting my fingernails, including the fake ones.
2. I will stop lying. Grandmère knows when I am lying anyway, thanks to my traitorous nostrils, which flare every time I tell a fib, so it's not like there is even a point in trying to be less than
3. truthful.
4. I will never veer from prepared script while
5. delivering televised address to the Genovian public.
6. I will stop accidentally saying mèrde in front of the ladies-in-waiting.
7. I will stop asking François, my Genovian
8. bodyguard, to teach me French swear words.
9. I will apologize to the Genovian Olive Growers Association for that thing with the pits.
10. I will apologize to the Royal Chef for slipping Grandmère's dog that slice of foie gras (even though I have told the palace kitchen repeatedly that I do not eat liver).
11. I will stop lecturing the Royal Genovian Press Corps on the evils of smoking. If they all wish to develop lung cancer, that is their prerogative.
12. I will achieve self-actualization.
13. I will stop thinking so much about Michael Moscovitz.

Oh, wait. It's okay for me to think about Michael Moscovitz, BECAUSE HE IS MY BOYFRIEND NOW!!!!!!!!

MT + MM = TRUE LOVE 4-EVER

You know, I am supposed to be on vacation. Seriously. I mean, this is my winter break. I am supposed to be having fun, mentally recharging for the coming semester, which is not going to be easy, as I will be moving on to Algebra II, not to mention Health and Safety class. Everybody at school was all, Oh, you are so lucky, you get to spend Christmas in a castle being waited on hand and foot.

Well, first of all, there is nothing so great about living in a castle. Because guess what? Castles are totally old. And yeah, it's not like this one was built in 4 a.d., or whenever it was my ancestress Princess Rosagunde first became ruler of Genovia. But it was still built in, like, the 1600s, and let me tell you what they didn't have in the 1600s:

1. Cable
2. DSL
3. Toilets

Which is not to say there isn't a satellite dish now, but, hello, this is my dad's place; the only channels he has got programmed are, like, CNN, CNN Financial News, and the golf channel. Where is MTV 2, I ask you? Where is the Lifetime Movie Channel for Women?

Not that it matters because I am spending all my time being run off my feet. It isn't as if I ever even get a free moment to pick up a remote and go, "Ho hum, I wonder if there's a Tracey Gold movie on."

Oh, yeah, and the toilets? Let me just tell you that back in the 1600s, they didn't know so much about sewage. So now, four hundred years later, if you put one square too much toilet paper in the bowl and try to flush, you create a mini indoor tsunami.

So that's it. That is my life in Genovia.

Every other kid I know is spending his or her winter break in Aspen skiing, or in Miami getting tanned.

But me? What am I doing for my winter break?

Well, here are the highlights from the new datebook Grandmère gave me for Christmas (what girl wouldn't love to get a datebook for Christmas?) of what I have done so far:

Arrived in Genovia. Due to large bagful of Skittles consumed on flight over, almost barfed on official Genovian welcome committee who came to airport to greet me as I disembarked from the plane.

One full day since I last saw Michael. Tried calling him at his grandparents' house in Boca Raton, where the Moscovitzes have gone for winter break, but no one answered, perhaps because of time difference, Genovia being six hours ahead of Florida.

While touring naval cruiser, the Prince Phillipe, tripped over anchor, accidentally knocking Admiral Pepin into the Genovian harbor. He was okay, though. They fished him out with a harpoon.

But why am I the only one in this country who thinks pollution is an important issue? If people are going to dock their yachts in the Genovian harbor, they really ought to pay attention to what they are throwing overboard. I mean, porpoises get their noses stuck in those plastic six-pack holders all the time, and then they starve to death because they can't open their mouths to eat. All people have to do is snip the loops before they throw the holders out, and everything would be fine.

Well, all right, not everything, since you shouldn't be throwing trash overboard in the first place.

I simply cannot stand idly by while helpless sea creatures are being abused by a bunch of Bain de Soleil addicts in search of that perfect Saint-Tropez tan.

Two days since last saw Michael. Tried calling him twice. First time, no answer. Second time, Michael's grandmother answered and said I had just missed him, as Michael had gone to the pharmacy to pick up his grandfather's prescription foot powder. This is so like him, always thinking of others before himself.

At breakfast with Genovian Olive Growers Association, mentioned unseasonable drought afflicting Mediterranean area must be the "pits." No one seemed to think this joke particularly amusing, particularly members of Olive Growers Association.

Three days since last saw Michael. No time to call due to pit controversy.