american english

The first time Offred described her friend Moira-purple overalls, one earring, pre-riot grrl feminism-I knew this book was written in the 80's. The author, along with a gross overreaction to New Conservatism, even writes a Tammy Faye Bakker character in, just for yuks. She describes a world in which Islamic fundamentalism is feared, where the backlash against the sexual revolution has driving women into the kitchens and watching television shows about evangelicals with 17 children. She talks about the general disuse of cash money and the rise of plastic cards which are tied to a banking system that debits the card an amount when the shopkeepers type the numbers in. And today I drove home in my plastic car blasting music made entirely on computer. I also couldn't find anyone with the 1.10 in cash needed to buy a pop from the work vending machine so I had to ask for directions from my handheld computer that can find information all over the world by just speaking into it. Does this mean in 8 years I will become a breeding slave and they'll start public executions again? Probably not. I get where she was coming from, as people whipping themselves into a frenzy about 'what's next' is nothing new, but I'm not sure if it's entirely believable. One can imagine Nancy Pelosi having to be dragged away screaming, desperately trying to clutch at the oak desks of the House. Hordes of Gloria Steinemettes on college lawns setting buildings alight and watching them burn like monks at a protest. The day they announce that women can no longer own property, Paris Hilton sadly watching her 17 chihuahuas being carted away to her male next of kin. Hillary Clinton speeding down a quiet suburban street, waving a machete out the window and screaming the words to 'Fuck Tha Police.'

I have a feeling that most of us would end up laughing rather loudly.

I feel like this is supposed to be a cautionary tale about consumerism but I think the only way to get through something like this is to treat it as extreme satire of the chick-lit genre. I generally hate the word chick-lit because it's usually stamped on books written by women, about women, and read by women or books that are stupid to the point of being unreadable. Under that second definition, I would definitely include any book by Sophie Kinsella. Which makes it okay. After reading 'Say You're One of Them' and 'Chains,' I randomly picked up something that was purposely fluffy-something I had seen jogging suit kitted soccer moms reading at the airport. Now I wouldn't class myself amongst the literary snobs of the world, truth be told I can barely read and god knows write, and I will read any historical fiction even if it's the most soap-opera bodice ripper in the joint but I almost didn't make it through this one. The main character is so unlikeable, so obtuse, and so predictably stupid I actually groaned out loud. I feel as though the people around her would have strangled her by the time this book took place. The author was probably going for a Lucille Ball character, charmingly nutty and childlike. Instead she just wrote about some dumbass I wanted to cap by the 14th page.

I suppose I was asking for it-I had read the author's first book in the series and my head almost exploded but I thought maybe the first time strikeout can be a pinch hitter after all. Maybe she can be light and fluffy without being annoying like Jane Green (used to be) and Helen Fielding. Hell, I'd even take the brainless and confusingly melodramatics of Marian Keyes over this. Beware, my girls, of the hype. This might actually be the worst book this year.