It's enough to scare anyone, but chatty Lizzie Nichols is
speechless. Clad in her beloved vintage togs, she heads to London
to spend a month with her boyfriend, Andrew. Unfortunately, she
only actually met Andrew one dark, smoky night when her dorm caught
fire and he rescued her. So she can't quite remember what he looks
like. She's stunned when the airport stalker in the awful red
leather jacket (with epaulets!) and the strange haircut turns out
to be her intended. Oops --- maybe she shouldn't have tried to turn
him in to airport security.

That's just the first of her shocking revelations and
open-mouth-insert-retro-kitten-heeled-pump incidents. Lizzie soon
discovers that Andrew lives with his parents and younger brothers
(not in his own flat as he'd suggested during their
correspondence). Oh, and they don't actually have a room for her,
but a bed rigged over the laundry facilities and dog dishes. It
also turns out that Andrew described Lizzie to his family as a
"fatty." Grr. Lizzie hears this last bit of information from
Andrew's brother since Andrew is gone 12 hours at his job, which,
oh yes, is actually waiting tables instead of teaching young
children, as Lizzie had thought.

Lizzie's mood improves when Andrew comes home from his shift, and
hormones come into giddy play. Unfortunately, the rigged bed is not
ideal for amour. Chemistry and invention save the day, as Lizzie
gives Andrew a "present" --- the first she has given any
lover.

The good times last…until the next morning when Lizzie blurts
out in front of a government official that Andrew does SO have a
job, just as he is renewing his unemployment status. Major oops.
Can Andrew, Lizzie's knight in shining armor (or red leather with
epaulets), actually be cheating the government by receiving a
paycheck while being on the dole? Well, yes. And then Andrew's
financial revelations reach a dreadful new low, which spurs Lizzie
to drastic action.

Soon she is alone in Europe --- and heartbroken. Most of all, she
wants that love gift she bestowed on Andy returned. But back to her
predicament: Lizzie refuses to call her parents and let her sisters
gloat over her terrible mistake. So where will she turn? What will
she do? Wherever and whatever, you can bet it will be hilarious and
fascinating. Lizzie definitely can leave her own sassy mark, even
in a world of fabulous old vineyard estates, family intrigues,
manipulative fiancées, damaged Givenchy evening gowns, and
impossible love interests.

Lizzie's story is interspersed with snippets of her unintentionally
hilarious master thesis on the history of fashion (did you know the
Crusades were all about style?) and quotations on one of Lizzie's
own talents, the gift of gab. QUEEN OF BABBLE is a charming,
rollicking read, written in Meg Cabot's signature ebullient and
side-splitting style. Lizzie's eager participation in some
incredibly hot love scenes not withstanding, she shines as an
endearing innocent abroad. There's plenty of froth to the tale, but
there is no lack of substantial plot and luscious description. I
absolutely loved this madcap adventure, which is the equivalent of
taking the most enjoyable literary vacation ever. Highest
recommendation.