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240 of 291 people found the following review helpful:
2.0 out of 5 stars
Trendy read and just as fleeting!, June 3, 2003
Fashionistas around the globe have been salivating for the publication of THE DEVIL WEARS PRADAsince its first announcement. For those in love with all things Vogue et.al., who wouldn't want to read a deliciously biting roman a clef about a woman who is probably Anna Wintour and then some? Alas, that's the problem with the book, it only caters to those in the fashion know, which results in a shallow exercise of style over substance.While author Lauren Weisberger has a grasp of sustaining a narrative, but the predictable scenarios she concocts are hardly the stuff of good fiction or, sadly, biting satire. Bitchy asides and brand names are stretched thin, for sure. Even worse, her alter ego, Andrea, is too bland a creation for the reader to really care about. Her ambition is not telegraphed with any real force since all I kept thinking was why stick it out in a thankless job that is beyond demeaning? Is being a writer at the New Yorker that important? I'm sure it is for the character, but Ms. Weisberger's colorless prose fails to register such details with depth. As for the infamous character of Miranda Priestly, I know plenty of folks like this woman. Hell, I even worked for one. The only real joy generated by this novel was smiling over what a complete and total virago she remains throughout the book. I also loved how Weisberger captured the absolute absurdity of such fields like fashion and other show business enterprises that rely so heavily on image. The worlds she creates are definitely based on some sort of fact, but it is unfortunate the she didn't take such an interest in her overall plot or characters. Perhaps my dissatisfication in the novel stems from something greater. As "chick lit" continues to fill our minds and best seller charts, does the world need one more "Mary Tyler Moore-clone taking on the world on her terms kind of heroine?" British sensation Helen Fielding offered some reality and humanity to the hip and happening world of Bridget Jones. However, Andrea Sachs is no Bridget Jones and the short-lasting effects of this novel makes you wonder why can't us Yankees create such a vivid piece of fiction! Ultimately, THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA is Diet coke for the brain. To be honest, I am tiring of our current fascination with excess, entitlement and shallowness. This hotly hyped novel implodes before its predictable "up yours" finale. Like the fashion magazines it lampoons -- it's all about really pretty pictures with ultimately very little to say.
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