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Sugar without cellulite

November 5, 2010 11 comments

Everyone Worth Knowing, by Lauren Weisberger

I needed sugar in my blood stream. The only sugar I know that doesn’t fall down on my hips in sexy cellulite is chick lit. Honestly, neither Alexander Portnoy’s troubles nor Julien Sorel’s ambition could fulfil that need, so I set aside what I was reading to dive into Everyone Worth Knowing by Lauren Weisberger.

This is pure American chick lit, with all the necessary clichés: beautiful and rich people, glamorous jobs, shallow and selfish human beings. It’s as far from my everyday life as life in China in the reign of Qin Shi Huangdi. It is full of references to fashion and brands that I’ve never heard of because I don’t read Elle or Cosmopolitan, sorry I meant ‘Cosmo’. I skipped the passages describing night-clubbing in New-York and concentrated on silly dialogues to end it as fast as I could. To top it off, the main character, Bette, falls for a man named Sammy. And when I hear Sammy, it’s a rooted reflex from childhood, I can’t help thinking of Scoobidoo, which didn’t help me to take this seriously.

I was looking for something light and funny like Bridget Jone’s Diary and found a Harlequin in disguise. Yuck. Instead of sugar, I got artificial sweetener. The translator was thoughtful enough to change Bette’s name into ‘Beth’ probably because a ‘bette’ is a vegetable (a Swiss chard) and it sounds like ‘Bête’, which means ‘stupid’. She shouldn’t have, it would have been true-to-life.

In the acknowledgements at the end of the book, the writer thanks her agent, for taking care of practical details and thus give her enough time to write her book, which will leave a mark in literature (!) and her parents , whose help was decisive for her to write this masterpiece (!!) I’m not inventing this. I only hope it is self-irony.

If anyone is interested, the ‘masterpiece’ has a page on Wikipedia. Thinking she earned 1 million dollar for writing that when gifted authors struggle to make a living makes me sick. To avoid.

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