A Woman's Worth: A Novel (Strivers Row) by Tracy Price-Thompson  (33)
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Editorial Reviews
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At the opening of Venise Berry's absorbing second novel, TV reporter Serpentine Williamson is jotting a few dispirited lines into a journal that her psychiatrist has insisted she keep. She has tried to kill herself. Yes, she tells Dr. Greeley, a man was involved, "but a lot more was going on in my head." What really drove her to attempt suicide was her own damaged self-image as a full-figured black woman and her constant, discouraging attempts to drop the pounds, find a good man, and make her mark in television. Since childhood, Serpentine has embraced every fad diet and weight-loss technique as it emerged, even submitting herself to a humiliating seaweed wrap that required her to stand for two hours in an empty bathtub draped in strips of wet plastic, looking, as her sister pointed out, "like a piece of Mama's day-old fried chicken when it's wrapped in the 'frigerator." Nothing made much of a difference. As it turns out, her recovery focuses not on her weight--or any single issue--but on Serpentine's expanded view of herself and her own possibilities. Near the end of the novel, Dr. Greeley tells her that it's clear, finally, that she loves herself. The question is how much. Leaving her doctor's office, Serpentine sees a shop sign advertising spa getaways, an indulgence she has never permitted herself.
From Publishers Weekly
Berry's second novel (after her well-received debut So Good) explores the complexities of body-image, weight and self-esteem in the life of African-American TV news reporter Serpentine Williams. Forty years old, with a successful career and loving family, Serpentine is smart, sassy and ambitious, but as the story opens, she's in a hospital after a suicide attempt. The narrative then follows the heroine through her sessions with a psychiatrist, her memories of childhood and adolescence and her history of tormented love relationshipsArevealing that her negative body image has poisoned many aspects of her life. Fat jokes as a child, fear of men's rejection, the media's constant touting of an unattainable physical ideal have all contributed to her despair. Unjust and painful episodes abound: a fan of her news program approaches her to tell her she's too fat, and television executives argue whether her zaftig appearance is appropriate for her TV image. While the trajectory of Serpentine's depression, as well as her eventual triumph, is poignant and realistic, Berry's style is sometimes erratic. Weaving in platitudes about the evils of advertising between anecdotes from Serpentine's past, Berry brings the protagonist to life as a smart, good-humored and resilient woman, but never convincingly portrays why such a strong person succumbs to disapproval of her appearance. As Serpentine recovers from depression, she finds love, validation in her job, a healthy cure for her self-loathing and renewed faith in herself. The conclusion is tidy but resonant, and the novel addresses the important and generally overlooked issue of body image for African-American women in a winning and absorbing manner. By turns serious and funny, Berry's tale is, in the end, a hopeful one, with a lovable and soul-searching heroine readers will sympathize with, and root for. Agent, Denise Stinson. (Jan.)
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
See all Editorial Reviews
At the opening of Venise Berry's absorbing second novel, TV reporter Serpentine Williamson is jotting a few dispirited lines into a journal that her psychiatrist has insisted she keep. She has tried to kill herself. Yes, she tells Dr. Greeley, a man was involved, "but a lot more was going on in my head." What really drove her to attempt suicide was her own damaged self-image as a full-figured black woman and her constant, discouraging attempts to drop the pounds, find a good man, and make her mark in television. Since childhood, Serpentine has embraced every fad diet and weight-loss technique as it emerged, even submitting herself to a humiliating seaweed wrap that required her to stand for two hours in an empty bathtub draped in strips of wet plastic, looking, as her sister pointed out, "like a piece of Mama's day-old fried chicken when it's wrapped in the 'frigerator." Nothing made much of a difference. As it turns out, her recovery focuses not on her weight--or any single issue--but on Serpentine's expanded view of herself and her own possibilities. Near the end of the novel, Dr. Greeley tells her that it's clear, finally, that she loves herself. The question is how much. Leaving her doctor's office, Serpentine sees a shop sign advertising spa getaways, an indulgence she has never permitted herself.
In that moment, Serpentine knew her guiding fire was at work. Sometimes it was a vivid blaze lighting her way. Other times it was a smoldering ember that allowed her to choose her own path. She followed the fire inside the double glass doors.Eventually, as her newfound assurance leads her out of her depression, she can describe her much-loved aunt in terms that might apply to herself, as well: "Her wide shoulders over ample hips are attached to big, pretty legs. It's a body that serves as an appropriate container for her exuberant spirit." --Regina Marler --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
From Publishers Weekly
Berry's second novel (after her well-received debut So Good) explores the complexities of body-image, weight and self-esteem in the life of African-American TV news reporter Serpentine Williams. Forty years old, with a successful career and loving family, Serpentine is smart, sassy and ambitious, but as the story opens, she's in a hospital after a suicide attempt. The narrative then follows the heroine through her sessions with a psychiatrist, her memories of childhood and adolescence and her history of tormented love relationshipsArevealing that her negative body image has poisoned many aspects of her life. Fat jokes as a child, fear of men's rejection, the media's constant touting of an unattainable physical ideal have all contributed to her despair. Unjust and painful episodes abound: a fan of her news program approaches her to tell her she's too fat, and television executives argue whether her zaftig appearance is appropriate for her TV image. While the trajectory of Serpentine's depression, as well as her eventual triumph, is poignant and realistic, Berry's style is sometimes erratic. Weaving in platitudes about the evils of advertising between anecdotes from Serpentine's past, Berry brings the protagonist to life as a smart, good-humored and resilient woman, but never convincingly portrays why such a strong person succumbs to disapproval of her appearance. As Serpentine recovers from depression, she finds love, validation in her job, a healthy cure for her self-loathing and renewed faith in herself. The conclusion is tidy but resonant, and the novel addresses the important and generally overlooked issue of body image for African-American women in a winning and absorbing manner. By turns serious and funny, Berry's tale is, in the end, a hopeful one, with a lovable and soul-searching heroine readers will sympathize with, and root for. Agent, Denise Stinson. (Jan.)
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
See all Editorial Reviews
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