Summary
The Sex God has left the country, taking Georgia's heart with him. So she decides to display glaciosity to all boys -- a girl can only have her heart broken so many times.
Until she meets Masimo, the new singer for the Stiff Dylans. The Sex God is gone, but here comes the Dreamboat, and Georgia's away laughing on a fast camel (whatever that means).
Author Notes
Louise Rennison was born in 1951 and grew up in Leeds, England and Wairakei, New Zealand. She studied performing arts at Brighton University, during which time she wrote and performed a one-woman autobiographical show, Stevie Wonder Felt My Face, about her experiences living in Notting Hill. The production won awards at the Edinburgh Festival and was adapted as a BBC television special. As a result of the show's success, she started writing a column entitled Dating Over 35 for a London newspaper and was eventually offered a book deal.
Her first book, Angus, Thongs and Full Frontal Snogging, was published in 1999. This was the first book in the Confessions of Georgia Nicolson series. The first two books in the series were adapted into a film entitled Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging. She also wrote the Misadventures of Tallulah Casey series. The first book in the series, Withering Tights, won the Roald Dahl Funny Prize in 2010 in the 7-14 category.
She also wrote and performed two other stage shows entitled Bob Marley's Gardener Sold My Friend and Never Eat Anything Bigger Than Your Head. She died on February 29, 2016 at the age of 63.
(Bowker Author Biography)
School Library Journal Review
Gr 7-9-Georgia continues her fabbity-fab ride through adolescence. Pining for her boyfriend Robbie, aka the Sex God, who is in Kiwi-a-gogo land, she finally receives the long-awaited letter. To her dismay, it is anything but romantic and she finds herself with a severe case of heart breakosity. No fear, her attention is quickly diverted by Masimo, an Italian American who is the new boy in town. Even though the teen hasn't matured much, her voice is still fresh. The book will have readers laughing out loud and looking for more. This installment ends with Vati announcing that the family is going to Hamburger-a-gogo land, the USA, on break, leaving one to believe there is a sequel in the works. The book can stand alone but some of the innuendos will be missed by readers unfamiliar with the previous titles. Students will be asking for this one and fans will keep it off the shelf.-Angela M. Boccuzzi, Merton Williams' Middle School, Hilton, NY (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Publisher's Weekly Review
Louise Rennison returns with her laugh-a-minute heroine from Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging in the fifth installment, Away Laughing on a Fast Camel: Even More Confessions of Georgia Nicolson. With her boyfriend away in New Zealand (aka "Kiwi-a-gogo land"), life must go on for Georgia. But a new "gorgey and fabby" singer from "Spaghetti-a-gogo land" (Italy to the rest of us) rekindles her interest in boys. (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Booklist Review
Gr. 7-10. Georgia is back again, and if she languishes at first, pining for the Sex God (boyfriend Robby) away in Kiwi-a-gogo land (New Zealand), it doesn't last long. There's a new boy in town--Masimo, the half-Italian, half-American lead singer for the Stiff Dylans--and Georgia finds her allegiance to the Sex God waning as Masimo shows an interest in her. As in the four earlier titles, it's not so much what happens as how Rennison relates it. The deliciously silly slang and a hilarious glossary make ordinary events (reading Heidi to her younger sister) hysterically funny. Fans of Angus the cat will be pleased to hear that his genes are all too present in his offspring; the only thing better than Angus is a mini-Angus. This won't stand alone, but Georgia's zillions of loyal readers will be delighted. --Debbie Carton Copyright 2004 Booklist
Excerpts
Away Laughing on a Fast Camel Even More Confessions of Georgia Nicolson alone, all aloney, on my owney saturday march 5th 11:00 a.m. as the crow flies Gray skies, gray cluds, gray knickers. I can't believe my knickers are gray, but it is typico of my life. My mutti put my white lacy knickers in the wash with Vati's voluminous black shorts (!) and now they are gray. If there was a medal for craposity in the mutti department, she would win it hands down. I am once again wandering lonely as a clud through this Vale of Tears. I wish there was someone I could duff up but I have no one to blame. Except God, and although He is everywhere at once He is also invisible. (Also, the last person who tried to duff God up was Satan, and he ended up standing on his head in poo with hot swords up his bum-oley.) 11:20 a.m. This is my fabulous life: the Sex God left for Whakatane last month and he has taken my heart with him. 11:25 a.m. Not literally, of course, otherwise there would be a big hole in my nunga-nungas. 11:28 a.m. And also I would be dead. Which quite frankly would be a blessing in disguise. 12:00 p.m. It is soooo boring being brokenhearted. My eyes look like little piggie eyes from crying. Which makes my nose look ginormous. Still, at least I am a lurker-free zone. Although with my luck there will be a lurker explosion any minute. Alison Bummer once had a double yolker on her neck; she had a big spot and it had a baby spot growing on top of it. I'll probably get that. 12:05 p.m. Phoned my very bestest pally, Jas. "Jas, it's me." "What?" "Jas, you don't sound very pleased to hear from me." "Well . . . I would be, but it's only five minutes since you last phoned and Tom is just telling me about this thing you can do. You go off into the forest and -- " "This hasn't got anything to do with badgers, has it?" "Well . . . no, not exactly, it's a wilderness course and you learn how to make fire and so on." Oh great balls of merde here we go, off into the land of the terminally insane, i.e., Jasland. I said as patiently as I could because I am usually nice(ish) to the disadvantaged, "You are going off on a course to learn how to make fire?" "Yes, exciting, eh?" "Why do you have to go on a course to learn how to open a box of matches?" "You can't use matches." "Why not?" "Because it's a wilderness course." "No, wrong, Jas, it's a crap course where people are too mean to give you any matches." She did that sighing business. "Look, Georgia, I know you are upset about Robbie going off to Kiwi-a-gogo land." "I am." "And you not having a boyfriend or anything." "Yes, well . . ." "And, you know, being all lonely, with no one to really care about you." "Yes, alright Jas, I know all th -- " "And the days stretching ahead of you without any meaning and -- " "Jas, shut up." "I'm only trying to say that -- " "That is not shutting up, Jas. It is going on and on." She got all huffy and Jasish. "I must go now. Tom has got some knots to show me." I was in the middle of saying, "Yes I bet he has . . ." in an ironic and très amusant way when she brutally put the phone down. 12:30 p.m. Alone, all aloney. On my owney. The house is empty, too. Everyone is out at Grandad's for lunch. I was nearly made to go until I pointed out that I am in mourning and unable to eat anything because of my heartbreak. Mine is a pathetico tale that would make anyone who had a heart weep, but that does not include Vati. He said he would gladly leave me behind because talking to me made him realize the fun he had had when he accidentally fell into the open sewers in India. 1:15 p.m. Looking out of my bedroom window. Entombed in my room forever. Like in that book The Prisoner of Brenda or whatever it is called. Except I could go out if I wanted. But I don't want to. I may never go out again. Ever. 1:30 p.m. This is boring. I've been cooped up for about a million years. What time is it? Phoned Jas. "Jas?" "Oh God." "What time is it?" "What?" "Why are you saying 'what' for? I merely asked you a civil question." "Why don't you look at your own clock?" "Jas, have you noticed I am very, very upset and that my life is over? Have you noticed that?" "Yes I have, because you have been on the phone telling me every five minutes for a month." "Well, I am soo sorry if it is too much trouble to tell your very bestest pal the time. Perhaps my eyes are too swollen from tears to see the clock." "Well, are they?" "Yes." "Well, how come you could see to dial my number?" Mrs. Huffy Knickers was so unreasonable. "Anyway, I'm not your bestest pal anymore. Nauseating P. Green is your bestest pal now that you rescued her from the clutches of the Bummer twins." I slammed down the phone. Brilliant. Sex Godless and now friend to P. Green, that well-known human goldfish. Sacré bloody bleu and triple merde. And poo. Oh Robbie, how could you leave me and go off to the other (incredibly crap) side of the world? What has Kiwi-a-gogo land got that I haven't? Besides forty million sheep. I think I'll play the tape he gave me again. It's all I have left to remind me of him and our love. That will never die. Away Laughing on a Fast Camel Even More Confessions of Georgia Nicolson . Copyright © by Louise Rennison. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from Away Laughing on a Fast Camel: Even More Confessions of Georgia Nicolson by Louise Rennison All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
