Monday, May 28, 2007

#9: The Starter Wife, Gigi Levangie Grazer

I can't believe this book was a best-seller; hopefully, like The Devil Wears Prada, the movie version (or in this case, the TV movie version) will improve this ridiculous novel. (Though judging from the reviews I've already read, it's not looking good, though anything with Debra Messing in it is inevitably fun. And I love her hair color. But I digress...) I know I only have myself to blame for hating these books, as in why do I even bother to pick them up? But you know, sometimes it's late, and a girl just wants to have a laugh, instead of a cry over Darfur (which is the subject of the other book I'm reading.)

The main flaw of The Starter Wife is that it was unbearably predictable. The wife of a studio executive gets left for a pop tart (we'll get to that later) and the wife goes through an identity crisis, emotes through a friend's suicide, and falls in love with a homeless guy. And while you could argue that the details are original (not many chick lit novels sport a sexy homeless guy), the story is delivered is the same predictable order with these random characters and their outrageous situations thrown in to make it seem original. (Are you with me?) It was also hard to root for the heroine, whose name I momentarily forgot. (Oh, Gracie.) She was sort of a wallflower-complainer (no doubt Debra Messing will improve on this, if nothing else) who willing gave up her identity to please her husband, so it was hard to sympathize with her.

But most annoying, and this is a two-way tie: the use of parentheses on EVERY single page and the fictionalization of Britney Spears and other celebrities. Let me start with the first point: (parentheses). Grazer used them on every page, for throwing in the most random asides - one or two (in the entire novel) would have been fine, but page after page, it just became distracting, and consistently interrupted the flow of the novel. I've used the same device throughout this post to make my point (and isn't it annoying?)

Onto point two (and a new paragraph, okay I'll stop now), Grazer warns us in the Author's Note that she has, "for the sake of versimilitude," peppered her book with real celebrities doing fictional things. I would have thought that passing references would be no big deal, but - and writers out there, take note - it fails as a device for anyone reading your novel outside of the season it was published. A reference to Ben Affleck as a single, datable guy wrecks that suspension of disbelief needed for all reading because everyone on the planet knows he's married and has a kid now. But the worst offense was against Britney Spears, and I know that you can fictionalize/satirize public figures without penalty, but I'm shocked that Grazer had the guts (and perhaps the arrogance) to make this girl look like a pinhead. Page 241 - "Gracie looked at Will, who widened his eyes, looking not unlike her husband's new girlfriend, Britney, when faced with a tough question like, 'Is global warming really caused by increases in carbon dioxide levels as a result of human activity?' or 'What goes in a shoe?'" I mean, Britney Spears is not my favorite celebrity, and she's been making mistake after mistake lately, but this just seems downright mean-spirited. And how hard is it to create a fictional character in a book of fiction?

So after all this, what's the four-word summary of The Starter Wife? Not worth your time. And before I go, I have to point out the best part: Grazer, who is married to uber-successful Hollywood producer Brian Grazer, is a second wife, a stereotype she basically wrote an entire book making fun of, and previously a starter wife. No judgment on her relationships, because marriage is hard (I hear), but it's funny and ironic. And how great is that?

Friday, May 11, 2007

#8: Because She Can, Bridie Clark

In some ways, this book was amusing and in some ways, I am shocked that trees were cut down for the paper. Because She Can is supposed to be another Devil Wears Prada - an inside look at the oh-so-glamorous world of publishing where the narrator works for a boss from hell and makes bad relationship choices. And I suppose the two novels are on par - despite a fantastic movie adaptation, The Devil Wears Prada was a moderately amusing but poorly written book.

I accept that chick lit is not War and Peace, I really do. The plot was totally predictable, and even cookie-cutter, but I can ignore that. The thing that bugged me about this book were the errors, like her editor ran out of red ink midway through...which is ironic in a book about a hardworking editor who slaves over her manuscripts.

For example, the dates with the college crush-cum-fiance (see, predictable) are confused. On page 61, the sentence reads, "And our third date was already in the works!" and is quickly followed by Randall asking heroine Claire to dine at Nobu. But then page 83 messes it all up. "Last weekend, we'd shared yet another amazing meal - this time at Le Cirque - followed by an even more amazing goodnight kiss. I was smitten. I'd named our kids. [New paragraph] Last night had been our fourth date." See? At first the third date is at Nobu, but then 20 pages later, it's at Le Cirque.

These sorts of errors happened two other places that I obviously noticed, and won't go into. But generally, when a book has errors like this, I lose interest quickly - I guess I feel like if the author and/or her editor can't be bothered, neither can I. So the best thing I can say about Because She Can is that it passed quickly.

Next Up? I have many books lining my shelves, but I'm thinking it's going to be Angelica by Arthur Phillips or Not On Our Watch by Don Cheadle.

#7: In the Skin of a Lion, Michael Ondaatje

In the Skin of a Lion is an amazing, incredible book - though I knew this going in, as it was my second read. (I read it for the first time, circa 1999, on the urging of a boyfriend. He's long gone, but the gift of the novel has remained.) It's beautiful and strange at the same time, but not for everyone, unfortunately - in some places, Ondaatje doesn't use much detail, or explain what's going on, so you have to be willing to work it out for yourself. But I think that's the real genius of it - you have to feel it, you have to immerse youself in the language, to get it.

When I think back on the reading of it, several images linger in my mind: A nun falling off a bridge into the darkness, only to be caught by a construction worker hanging underneath; Finnish laborers ice skating at night on a pond, creating light trails with the torches they hold; a man staring out a train window, concentrating on the scenery so that grief will not destroy him.

I could never do justice to its poetry, so I'll end on one of my favorite passages instead, where Patrick is observing his actress-lover, Alice...
"His love of the theatre was that of an amateur. He picked up gossip, mementoes, handbills. He loved technique, to walk backstage and see Ophelia with her mad face half rubbed off. This was humanity in theatre, the scar - the old actor famous for playing whimsical judges, who rode the Queens streetcar east of the city and ate his dinner alone before joining his sleeping wife. Patrick liked that. He wanted to be fooled by the person he felt could not fool him, who stopped three yards past the side curtain and became somebody else."