This book had me cracking up last night when I was reading it.
The introduction more or less suggests that the author kept noticing that when she and her friends would go out, even though she would argue that they were of more or less even attractiveness her blonde friends would get a lot more attention. When she placed them side by side in terms of wit and intelligence, well, she could admit that she had them beat. It’s the blondeness again.
I haven’t seen the movie, but I will now.
This novel takes the above observation and basically asks what would happen to someone who is wholly and totally unreflective but receives tons of attention for attributes they basically don’t posses. Our narrator is one such woman. The novel is a series of diary entries as the main character and her friend Dorothy go on a trip to Europe and encounter a series of famous and not so famous people.
Because it’s a diary, it’s written in a very distinct voice, and the language and spelling are hilariously bad.
She meets Dr. Froyd, Sinclare Lewis, thinks Paris is Devine, goes to see the Eyefull Tower, is very intreeged by all her conversations.
It’s a novel designed to make me like it: be ahead of its time, be hilarious, be incredibly bitchy about everything, and have some social value and commentary about how we treat the people who we give no power or agency to, but definitely want to sleep with. Love it