Miramax; 2006, 256 pages
The justifiable reason why girls indulge in “chick lit” (chic literature if there is such a thing), is that they are at least funny, shallow and light, and have characters one can identify with.
This book does not offer even one of those perks. Its not witty at all, the characters–pffft, I can identify more with an Orc from LOTR. No witty lines or dialogue, not even an exciting plot to follow. So apparently, according to the book, the latest hot thing in NYC now is a divorce (marriage is so last season) and the divorcee gets to throw a debut/party of some sort, announcing her back to singlehood status to society. The narrator, who doesnt have enough character content for the reader to sympathize with, is trying to salvage her newly wed life, amidst friends who are screaming that she should join the bandwagon.
These kinds of books are supposed to be shallow, yes. But they have to be at least entertaining in some way right? Take an author who looks like a supermodel (who also writes for Vogue and Vanity Fair) and you’ve got a showcase of brand names, latest clothing styles, and places to be . This “book” is just an excuse.