It was my idea that when you read a novel, you should feel something for the character, identify with her in some way, and as you go through the course of the book, cheer her on through adversity, feeing her pain, and then rejoice in her overcoming challenges. But what if the character just never grows?
What if the character is defined at the get-go as a self-centered, manipulating, feckless social climber who proceeds to orchestrate one scenario after another, using whoever serves her purpose at the moment to get what she wants? What if, despite her repeated falls from societal grace, her redemption is always through luck, the guilt or kindness or another, kinder character, or her own delusions? I know – why did I read this book?
I purchased Trading Up at the library’s annual sale because it was written by Candace Bushnell, author of Sex and the City. I was hoping for some of the fun and good spirited friendships of the TV series. I was wrong. Amazingly, Janey Wilcox, the main character, works her way through this entire novel without managing to elicit any sympathy. And even though, about 3/4 of the way through the book, we learn about why Janey may have developed this penchant for using others and sleeping with any man she thought could further her goals, it didn’t make you care about her one iota more. Even at the very end, her breathlessly described new and bright-with-possibilities future in Hollywood is merely the result of chance coupled with Janey’s own delusional idea that she deserves what she wants — just because.
I kept reading — always the optimist — certain that there was a moment of truth coming – that something would happen in Janey’s life and she would hark back to the more innocent soul she once was and become more feeling, if nothing else. Never happens. So while Trading Up does provide an interesting spotlight on the lives of the very rich and famous in NY and the Hamptons, I’m otherwise left empty in the face of a character who, throughout an entire novel, never evolves. So very odd.
It also gives me a lot of respect for Darren Star who created and executive produced the TV series Sex and the City from Bushnell’s series of essays. He created friendships that were real and characters who grew over the seasons, and he enticed viewers who, despite learning odd things like the value of Manolo Blahnik shoes, grew along with them. That was the book I’d been hoping to read.
I recently found I was chosen for an award by a fellow blogger, 
There are times when I’ve finished a book, that I don’t quite know where to put it. In my head, that is. The book is so different from anything I’ve read, that it seems to be searching for a place to settle in my mental bookshelf, and meanwhile, it seems to hover in space.
I got a letter from John Grisham yesterday.
I’m assuming everyone has read this classic children’s book by Maurice Sendak, but if you haven’t seen the 
Still A Dreamer 