  And now for more emotional instability! Ella Enchanted was my favorite books for a long, long time. It was the first book that I ever cried about. However strange it is, it was the first thing that made me understand or believe in true, true love. The book meant so much to be when I first read it. It painted all these abstractly-beautiful scenarios of the power of love and believing in yourself and all sorts of cliché things. I read it in fourth grade and several times thereafter, devouring the scenes although I knew what would happen. In sixth grade we were suppose to act out a scene from our favorite book, complete with props and costumes. I acted out the scene when she escapes from the finishing school in the middle of the night, and it was the most liberating acting performance of my life. But now the movie has become jaded… jaded, jaded, jaded. I saw the preview last night. The first minuet or so looked ok (I love the Princess Diaries, so the Anne Hathaway casting was ideal) but the elation turned to horror. In no part of the book does she fight Matrix-style (as the preview showcases) In no part of the novel does she have an elf-sidekick.
The movie looks disgusting. I was so, so sad for it. Then this afternoon, stuck with nothing to do, I leafed through Ella Enchanted once again… and cried. The more I think about it, the more of a travesty this is. Why would someone turn a singularly moving part of my childhood into a cheap excuse for family fun?
I am both personally hurt and offended. Is this some sort of metaphor for teenage life? Growing up and seeing things loose their luster, their immaculacy, their wonder? At Christmas there is no Santa, the things that go bump in the night are worse than ugly witches, and I’ll never be Shirley Temple. And now Ella Enchanted has been massacred, ripped out of the pages of my youth and burned into a film reel. Affectionately… Anna 
