AND this book may be unique in my experience: The movie based on the book was far, far superior to the book itself. I cannot think of a single other instance that this was true for me.
So, what was the offending book?
The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger.
Smock and I went to see the movie when it came out. It was a good enough movie. A fun afternoon chick flick, with what I consider a GREAT performance by Meryl Streep.
So, when I saw the book at the AAUW used book sale for 50 cents, I thought, "Oh, good. A nice guilty pleasure!"
Not. Probably the stupidest book I've read in the last ten years. By now, most of you know the outline of the story: Girl who wants to be a Writer ends up working for Miranda Priestly, editor in Chief of THE important fashion magazine. (The book is supposedly a wicked expose of Anna Wintour of Vogue.)
Miranda is a b****, and a selfish ogre. Fine. But how on earth did this naive girl think that she worked her way to the top in a competitive business like fashion without being that way? The author does nothing but sneer at fashion--what did she think working at a fashion magazine would be like? She talks about being exhausted after working numerous 12-14 hour days. Oh, poor baby. Talk to regular working joes who have to spend that amount of time at back-breaking labor every day for years on end.
In short, the author/narrator was a WHINER, and I cannot abide a whiner. Look, lady, you don't want the job? QUIT AND GET ANOTHER ONE!!!!
But the funniest part of the whole experience was this: the author/narrator supposedly wants to "write for the New Yorker", all the while penning a book that doesn't have the structure or plot or anything else to stand as evidence for skill in writing "higher level" things.
So, she's not only a whiner, she's a snob. And a fairly incompetent one at that.
Look, I'm no writer. But then, I don't hold myself out to be one, either.
Give this one a pass, unless fashion is your life. Otherwise, rent the video at Blockbuster, and have a fairly enjoyable 90 minutes.