Author: Plum Sykes
“With invitations to high-profile baby showers and benefits, more Marc Jacobs clothes than is decent, and a department store heiress for a best friend, our heroine known only as Moi is living at the peak of New York society. But what is Moi to do when her engagement falls apart? Can she ever find happiness in a city filled with the distractions of Front Row Girls, dermatologists, premieres, and eyebrow waxes? Is it possible to find love in a town where her friends think that the secret to happiness is getting invited to the Van Cleef and Arpels private sample sale? And how is she going to deal with the endless phone calls from her mother in England demanding that she get married to the Earl next door?”
Okay, this book is super icky! Like, ew! Trés garbage!
If you thought that sentence was gag-inducing then don’t bother picking up this book. It’s about 300 more pages of that plus egregious, clunky, designer name dropping and childish euphemisms for sex.
I’m going to have to request that my local librarians get more training because I picked this book up in the adult fiction section. After reading it, it had to be a mistake. Bergdorf Blondes would be more appropriate for middle school fiction. The only person who would find “Going down to Brazil” an appropriate way to say “fucking”, is a 7th-grade girl.
Did this book have a plot? No. Good characters? Nah. Realism? Of course not. Good writing, at least? Now you’re asking for too much.
There were several bad plots masquerading as one in this book. Moi’s (the main character doesn’t even have a name, just an uppity title) engagement, Julie’s nonsense, and, her mother has something to do with it, still can’t figure out what. I think there was an ending, but nothing was solved.
The characters were awful. All of them. The main, sub, and background characters were all terrible. Moi, Julie, her first fiance, her second fiance, I don’t understand how anyone could find these people pleasant to read about. It’s not like it’s a given to have a likable main, but you have to make the reader actually want to read about them. Picking up this book was a chore and a half. The characters were so shallow and undefined that any sort of realism flies out of the window.
The thing that was the corn dressing on this shit salad of a book was that the writing was so bad. Long chunks of description about egg blue dressing rooms and dresses, no emotion, it was all tell and no show, every rule about writing a book, this book broke. Badly. The only redeeming thing about this book was that it ended.
It looks like Plum Sykes is going to join Sophie Kinsella and Helen Fielding in my “Chick-lit for 8th Graders” shelf. I won’t read another book written by her. I wouldn’t recommend this book either.