So far this book is like a martini topped with mini marshmallows.
Update: I'm past the halfway point and the book is now a martini topped with marshmallows poured over a steaming pile of dog excrement.
Update the second: I retract my earlier statement, as it is demeaning to the martini. Martinis are fabulous and should never be associated with dreck like this. It is, however, like marshmallow-dotted dog poopie, as it is cloyingly sweet, fluffy, and a real stinkeroo.
Update the third: WARNING. I am not going to mark this review as spoilerific, because I'm assuming that after the above comments no one wants to read the book anyway. And if you do still plan to read this, well then, you're an idiot and deserve to be spoiled.
Adriana, Leigh, and Emmy are best friends in New York who are about to turn thirty. Adriana is the wealthy daughter of a former supermodel (even though the term "supermodel" wasn't really coined until the nineties), has no job, lives in her parents' NY penthouse apartment, and sleeps with any man who looks at her. Not because she's insecure, mind you. She's just that beautiful. Leigh is a book editor with the perfect apartment and sportscaster boyfriend but she's suffering from panic attacks and some kind of strange OCD-like symptoms. Emmy is a serial monogamist who has just broken up with her boyfriend of 5 years.
The girls decide to shake things up. Adriana pledges to settle down within a year, Emmy wants to whore it up all across the globe, and Leigh wants to do something (she just doesn't know what).
The novel alternates between characters. Adriana whines about no one taking her seriously, Leigh whines about her job and her boyfriend, and Emmy whines both about wanting to have random sex and not thinking she can go through with having random sex.
The biggest problem I have with this book, beyond the basic boring insipdness of the plot, is that Weisberger doesn't seem to know her characters. They are not only underdeveloped but they constantly contradict themselves. Adriana is oh-so-cool that men want her and women want to be her, yet she very uncooly gushes over Salma Hayek, "Brangelina," and, inexplicably for someone who doesn't want children, Angelina's son Maddox.
Leigh isn't in love with her boyfriend (who later becomes her fiance) but Weisberger makes a point of telling us that while she doesn't want to have sex with him, she isn't repulsed by his touch, either. The significance of this revelation is never explained. When she later and very predictably has sex with one of the married authors she's editing, she feels exhilarated in one sentence and in the next, with no explanation for the mood change, is angry/shamed/insecure. She is so upset that the author is married, yet when it is revealed that he only married his wife so she could get her green card, she no longer cares that he has no plans to get a divorce.
Emmy insists all over the place that she's ready to give up her monogamous ways and slut it up with at least one man from each continent (she travels for work) but this isn't really what she wants to do, nor is she very good at it. Later, one of the girls comments that Emmy has slept with every strange man she'd met over the past year, when in reality she only slept with three. She's also so unaware of herself that she can't figure out why she scares off a would-be one night stand by asking him if he wants children.
It would have been much more interesting if Weisberger had given a reason for these inconsistencies, such as the characters having an internal struggle over doing what they want to do and doing what everyone expects of them. I suspect this was Weisberger's intention but she never really made it clear which version was the facade and which was the real girl, especially in Adriana's case.
It also wasn't very believable that these girls were best friends. When Leigh calls Emmy to tell her of her engagement, she tells Emmy flat out that she doesn't think she's in love with her fiance but all Emmy wants to talk about is the proposal and the ring. A real best friend would have jumped all over it and told her friend that she shouldn't marry a man she doesn't love. It also isn't believable that Emmy and Adriana wouldn't confide their problems to each other.
There are also huge holes in the action. The three girls go on vacation to Aruba, ostensibly to give Emmy the opportunity to sleep with someone, but the narrative ends just as she meets someone and jumps ahead several days, and the result of their Aruba trip is only mentioned in passing several pages later. The lengthy description of their flight to the island is utterly pointless.
The ending is so contrived and predictable that one can only assume Weisberger was up against the deadline, couldn't figure out how to end it, and just wrapped everything up without any creativity whatsoever.
I'm pretty pissed off that I paid for this book, and that I've contributed to its sales as it will surely be a best seller. I can only hope that people will begin to see that The Devil Wears Prada was an anomaly, and that Weisberger can't write interesting fiction.