I’m very curious, but not ghoulish enough to dig, but I speculate that Janet Fitch was either raised by a narcissist or married one or something. Between this one and White Oleander, she sure does know a lot about people lacking empathy. Also like White Oleander, this one is isn’t a feel-good book by any means.
Josie Tyrell escaped her white trash family and small town life to be the Edie Sedgwick of the 80’s punk scene in Los Angeles. Her bohemian lifestyle lead her to the love of her life, Michael, a poor little rich boy who finally broke away from his overbearing mother and decided to become an artist. Then he kills himself. After also choking Josie to death at Michael’s funeral, Michael’s mother comes to rely on Josie to fill the Michael void in her life, essentially making Josie her own living doll. Michael’s specter and his mother then get in a race to see who can be the absolute worse. While his mother begins controlling Josie, Michael’s lies to Josie begin to unravel. (Really, Josie finally starts to see Michael as a person, and not a great one at that, without her love colored glasses on.) Ultimately, Josie comes to peace with Michael’s death and escapes the mother’s clutches. (Fitch loves the damaged mothers.)
I’ve read other reviews that really put down Josie and her actions after Michael’s death, but you have to keep in mind, she’s still a teen who is trying to make it on her own with less than stellar role models growing up when the love of her life ends up killing himself.
