My problem with this book was the title. This book is mis-titled and misleadingly introduced in the first chapter as a book about whether, quite literally, there is "still sex in the city". Being divorced and in my late 30s myself, I chuckled at the author's first chapter. She loses a dog (although I agree with other reviewers that this was too heartlessly described and borderline sociopathic), a husband, and her home in short order. She flees to her second home, presumably in the country, to chill out, raise poodles, and write terrible novels that her publisher won't publish. She hasn't had sex in ages, doesn't think about it, doesn't worry about it. At the end of the Chapter, she decides to move back to the city because of the lack of men, excitement, sex. In Chapter 3, she's approached to write about Tinder. The depressing truth about Tinder. She creates an account, and I braced myself for what's to come (pun intended).
The problem is that this book isn't about whether sex still exists in the city. That question is answered right away, when the author sits down with a group of women to discuss the merits of Tinder. It's all laid out for her then: guys swipe yes to every woman, of all ages, on Tinder, they meet them in person, and they all want sex. It's a numbers game. This is no secret or surprise at this point. So, yup, there is sex in the city, even for women in their 50s with men in their 20s and 30s. What the author really wants to know, from her discussions with her Tinderella roundtable, is whether there is still DATING in the city. The Tinderellas have practically never been on proper dates, and their eyes glaze over when the author recounts her prior dates. THERE'S THE RIGHT TITLE! Is there still dating in the city?
It seems that the book is titled to bank off the prior success of Sex and the City, reminding readers that Candace Bushnell is, well, Candace Bushnell. It's condescending, especially when the book changes tone and premise about 40 percent in and becomes a discussion of shopping in the city, skin care in the city, shoes in the city, etc. What happened to the hysterical Tinder dates I was waiting for? Where's the dating? I will readily admit that I wanted to read this book because of the dating and sex "research". I have no interest in reading about women in Manahattan in general. I don't care about their expensive shoes or purses. That's not how the book is introduced, so that's not what I expected.
Also, I found it distracting that the author had to use fake names, when Queenie was clearly the Countess and Joanne was clearly Carole from the Real Housewives of New York. She uses a very prominent storyline from the Bravo series to describe the ladies. She even mentions the Bravo series multiple times throughout the book. Yes, their names are fake.
What worked for me was Candace Bushnell's writing. I do love her style. Her stories are filled with her signature wit, sarcasm, flare, and a certain Pollyanna-hopefulness. Her stuff is never a chore to read. In fact, I'd love to get my hands on the manuscripts rejected by her publishers that she references in Chapter One.
My criticism of this book is based on the title, the overall format and structure, and the theme. It's like that scene in the Sex and the City when Carrie was confused when she was asked to draft a theme to set the tone for her articles. Same thing here.
Thank you to NetGalley for this advanced copy in exchange for this honest review.