by Lauren Weisberger
Lauren Weisberger is the author of The Devil Wears Prada, which spent more than a year on the New York Times hardcover and paperback bestseller lists. The film version, starring Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway, won a Golden Globe Award and grossed over $300 million worldwide. Her second novel, Everyone Worth Knowing, was also a New York Times bestseller. She lives in New York City with her husband.
What is it about:
Here's how they put it on Amazon. I really don't know how to summarize it myself.
Bette Robinson is a twentysomething Emory graduate who shunned her parents' hippie ideals in favor of a high-paying yet excruciatingly boring job at a prestigious investment bank. One day, after a particularly condescending exchange with her boss (who sends her daily inspirational e-mails), Bette walks out on her job in a huff. After a few weeks of sleeping late, watching Dr. Phil and entertaining her dog Millington, Bette's uncle scores her a job at an up-and-coming public relations firm, where her entire job seems to revolve around staying out late partying and providing fodder for clandestine gossip columns. What follows is one episode after another of Bette climbing up the social ladder at the expense of her friends, family, and the one guy who actually seems worth pursuing.
I usually don’t review books I didn’t like, partially because I write myself and know what an arduous job it is to have something finished, printed and sold. For the respect I have towards all authors and writers, published and unpublished, I don’t want to underestimate anybody’s hard work. Well, this book is on the edge of not having been reviewed at all.
This book was on my nightstand for a while now. I delayed it constantly, reading a page or two eventually. It took me long (I’m not going to tell how long-it’s embarrassing) to finally finish it, and sincerely, I wonder now why I even did. I was so disappointed.
I didn’t read The Devil Wears Prada, but heard glorifying reviews. I thought I’d get a taste of it with this one.
Maybe it’s my fault. I can’t sympathize with Manhattan party animals and women who postpone their suicide because they will get a Berkin bag in six month. I couldn’t empathize with Bette either. Though Lauren broke her spine over convincing us how Bette adjusted to the world of PR, to me, she looked as if she had no idea what the hell she was doing there. I kept reading only because I thought and hoped for the love story to swap me off my feat. Sorry, it didn’t.
The only bright point is Bette’s gay uncle and his partner. The two of them are hilarious, intelligent and sophisticated. Her parents were interesting as well, a couple of anti-globalization hippies.
(Is there something wrong with me for preferring alternative social groups over the pop mainstream?)
I understand that someone is fond of books like this, but I really feel like I could have used the time better. I didn’t like it, but you might if you were a fan of The Devil wears Prada.