Not worth that much, in the end
YA or not YA? This book was shelved squarely in the plain ol' fiction section of my library, and I'm not one to argue with librarians.
Sixteen-year-old Carley is failing her English class. Most parents would hire a tutor, which in this case Carley already has. But her parents, part of the stuffy Long Island uppercrust, decide to pull out all the stops: they hire an author to write Carley her very own, personalized novel. Bree, the author, is an oddity even among the eccentric wealthy "elite" - her magnum opus, a meta-book adaptation of The Odyssey, was a complete failure. At first Carley is distracted from their collaboration by Hunter, her best friend in the world and apparent golden boy of their set of friends. But Hunter has a secret he can't bear to tell her - an addiction to painkillers and alcohol that is slowly consuming him. Complicating matters is a blast from Bree's past: Justin Leighton, a brilliant writer and recluse who doesn't mind going into public if it means seeing Bree again. As Carley and Bree delve into the haphazard process of writing a good story, they embark on separate journeys: one on a search for comfort, the other on a search for clarity. Both receive far more - and far less - than they would ever have expected.
This is a confusing novel: generous with its words, in the end it says nothing new about stories, rich people, struggling writers, or adolescents. While it's easy to pick out what's genuine about the book - namely, the struggles Carley and Bree undergo - it's not enough to make up for the thick-as-molasses prose, the devolution of Hunter's character development, and the redundant social commentary on the upper class of New York society (Gossip Girl packed just as much critique of the modern class system, only not dressed up as prettily). The author clearly has something to say on all these points, but never does it blend together smoothly. This is a coming-of-age story that is only concerned with its main character roughly half the time, and even then it's a tough slog.
In many ways, Carley is a product of her parents' lifestyle. She refers to her family's servants as the Help and dutifully socializes with other rich kids (whom she barely likes, and who give her no reason to). At the same time, her fatness marks her as a kind of outsider, a label that her BFF Hunter seems to covet. The ways she internalizes this dichotomy is recognizable, but not very richly mined. Her story is all about Hunter, and for a depressingly large portion of the book she herself is Hunter-centric. His addiction causes her to become trapped in a cycle of verbal abuse, as he can't control himself around her when he's drugged/hammered. (What a catch, right?) She excuses this because theirs is a profound bond, or at least profound to her; when he's sober, he is her only ally in a world of superficiality - and at first this makes him complex and likable. But his character is stripped of this kindness, of any potential as the book eases into its ending, and the impact of Carley's story is lessened substantially.
Bree and Justin's relationship plays out at a chipper pace, serving as a vague parallel to Carley and Hunter. Bree helps shapes Carley's evolving views on life and reading, and Carley offers some insight/love advice in a very teenager-y way, and I wanted more of their bonding sessions. Bree and Justin (himself a crisper, mature version of Hunter) are also the only two adult characters I cared about. Gibson's insistence on shoehorning the parents' tired dramas into the story falls absolutely flat. Carley's mother in particular is nearly as vile as Hunter proves to be, her disgust for her daughter being her only distinctive trait. Time and words that could have gone into developing Carley into a more three-dimensional character are wasted on a whole class of people who the reader expects to be stuffy, disengaged, and superficial.
There's also a bunch of meta stuff about the power of stories and the writing process, but I've already spent more time on How to Buy than it deserves. I'd like to say something positive, but all the good stuff about this book comes in fits and sputters. Maybe instead read Gossip Girl self-insert fanfiction, I don't know. Rating: 2.5 examples of symbolism in The Great Gatsby out of 5.
This is a confusing novel: generous with its words, in the end it says nothing new about stories, rich people, struggling writers, or adolescents. While it's easy to pick out what's genuine about the book - namely, the struggles Carley and Bree undergo - it's not enough to make up for the thick-as-molasses prose, the devolution of Hunter's character development, and the redundant social commentary on the upper class of New York society (Gossip Girl packed just as much critique of the modern class system, only not dressed up as prettily). The author clearly has something to say on all these points, but never does it blend together smoothly. This is a coming-of-age story that is only concerned with its main character roughly half the time, and even then it's a tough slog.
In many ways, Carley is a product of her parents' lifestyle. She refers to her family's servants as the Help and dutifully socializes with other rich kids (whom she barely likes, and who give her no reason to). At the same time, her fatness marks her as a kind of outsider, a label that her BFF Hunter seems to covet. The ways she internalizes this dichotomy is recognizable, but not very richly mined. Her story is all about Hunter, and for a depressingly large portion of the book she herself is Hunter-centric. His addiction causes her to become trapped in a cycle of verbal abuse, as he can't control himself around her when he's drugged/hammered. (What a catch, right?) She excuses this because theirs is a profound bond, or at least profound to her; when he's sober, he is her only ally in a world of superficiality - and at first this makes him complex and likable. But his character is stripped of this kindness, of any potential as the book eases into its ending, and the impact of Carley's story is lessened substantially.
Bree and Justin's relationship plays out at a chipper pace, serving as a vague parallel to Carley and Hunter. Bree helps shapes Carley's evolving views on life and reading, and Carley offers some insight/love advice in a very teenager-y way, and I wanted more of their bonding sessions. Bree and Justin (himself a crisper, mature version of Hunter) are also the only two adult characters I cared about. Gibson's insistence on shoehorning the parents' tired dramas into the story falls absolutely flat. Carley's mother in particular is nearly as vile as Hunter proves to be, her disgust for her daughter being her only distinctive trait. Time and words that could have gone into developing Carley into a more three-dimensional character are wasted on a whole class of people who the reader expects to be stuffy, disengaged, and superficial.
There's also a bunch of meta stuff about the power of stories and the writing process, but I've already spent more time on How to Buy than it deserves. I'd like to say something positive, but all the good stuff about this book comes in fits and sputters. Maybe instead read Gossip Girl self-insert fanfiction, I don't know. Rating: 2.5 examples of symbolism in The Great Gatsby out of 5.
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