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Emily Barr's debut novel, Backpack, is a classic
example of the old adage, "You can't judge a book by
its cover." At first glance, it seems to be a Bridget
Jones-esque romp: spunky yet self-deprecating British
twenty-something obsesses about drinking and smoking,
loves boy, loses boy, backpacks across Asia to assert
her independence, meets new boy. And to some degree,
what you see is what you get. The novel is indeed
packed with single-girl empowerment and laugh-out-loud
witticisms.