Scan barcode
ssaravia's review against another edition
3.0
This is a memoir that follows the story of a mom who moves to NYC Upper East Side. She tells the details of becoming part of this exclusive, meticulously calculated society. Being a mommy in this climate is unlike anywhere else. Play dates, fashion even preschools are different territory. The last few chapters really turned this book around for me, humanizing these women to show how alike all our struggles can be.
asamandawanders's review against another edition
3.0
An easy, quick read, and an interesting look into how different the very rich are. However, what bothers me most is that while the author constantly writes about how she is an outsider and an observer, her actions don't show that. It is a rare anthropologist who is able to "observe" by buying a Birkin, taking $35 a pop Barre classes, and dress in Prada. She say's they aren't close to billionaires, but I'm guessing millionaire would still fit, which for those of us in the lower middle class seems like splitting hairs.
At the end of the book, Ms. martin writes "Life might just be better when you're not at the very top" and that is what I will most take with me from this book. Although I think the book is trying to make me feel sorry for these uber-skinny, wealthy, often alcoholic women who have to deal with the difficulty of 2 barre classes a day, managing the help, getting their hair and makeup done, and wondering at what level they can donate to their friend's charity, I don't. Really, what I want to do is slap them. And though it would be lovely to not have student loan payments and take European vacations on my private jet, I do think that my life is better in so many ways. I have friends of both sexes, women at my daycare say hello back to me, I don't have the constant worry that my husband will trade me in for a newer model, or that at any moment something could happen, like divorce or job loss, and my friends would abandon me. All the money in the world wouldn't make me want to trade for that, though if anyone reading wants to donate to my student loan bill, I could make an exception.
At the end of the book, Ms. martin writes "Life might just be better when you're not at the very top" and that is what I will most take with me from this book. Although I think the book is trying to make me feel sorry for these uber-skinny, wealthy, often alcoholic women who have to deal with the difficulty of 2 barre classes a day, managing the help, getting their hair and makeup done, and wondering at what level they can donate to their friend's charity, I don't. Really, what I want to do is slap them. And though it would be lovely to not have student loan payments and take European vacations on my private jet, I do think that my life is better in so many ways. I have friends of both sexes, women at my daycare say hello back to me, I don't have the constant worry that my husband will trade me in for a newer model, or that at any moment something could happen, like divorce or job loss, and my friends would abandon me. All the money in the world wouldn't make me want to trade for that, though if anyone reading wants to donate to my student loan bill, I could make an exception.
askorbinka's review against another edition
5.0
Motherhood, New York and anthropology (in Upper East Side context). I had a good time reading it.
jenikki's review against another edition
3.0
3.5 stars. This is an immensely entertaining and thought-provoking book, and I'm surprised to see all the negative reviews of it on here. If you don't like the Park Avenue moms depicted in this book — or, for that matter, the author herself in her complicity with this culture — I feel like that's sort of the point. I would be giving this book a higher rating if it weren't for the editorial inconsistencies, but I'll get to that in a second.
As many already know, this is a book written by a mom who lived on Park Avenue for three years, from 2002 until 2005, from what I can gather (though the book claims six years). Because her mother approached everything from the perspective of anthropology, Martin decides to come at this subject matter in a different way. Instead of spending her time as a Park Avenue mum constantly upset and being pushed aside by these at-times horrible creatures, she decided to view them as if they were an entirely new species, and make field notes about them and why they act a certain way.
What I loved about the book the most was that after the initial couple of chapters, where you're at once sickened by these women — picture the "adult" versions of Blair Waldorf — and fascinated by them, she includes a chapter on her very own quest to be more like them by acquiring the holy grail of handbags: the elusive Birkin. The chapter is at times hilarious and eye-rolling (for all the right reasons) but in keeping an upbeat style while writing of her quest to be one of the gang by this one acquisition, she pulls us in and makes us sympathize with her, and for a brief moment you think, "Wait a second... am I sympathizing with these millionaire social climbing trophy wives?" Yes. Yes you are.
Of course, it doesn't take much reading between the lines to realize that despite trying to separate herself from these women, Wednesday Martin (her first name is a pseudonym but I don't know why anyone has a problem with that: haven't you ever heard of Lewis Carroll?) really is one of them. She lives in the most expensive zip code in the United States and her husband is a hedge fund guy. But she keeps trying to play it down, referring to her family as the Haves and the others as the Have Mores. At one point she declares, "It's not like we were billionaires!" Notice she doesn't choose "millionaires" because, clearly, they ARE millionaires. She talks about how these Park Avenue women don't spend any time with their husbands, that they're there simply to make the money and pay for everything they own, but the women run the households, choose the homes, stay there, help fundraising at the schools, manage the housekeeper and nanny, and make sure that these children get into the best schools and have the best opportunities. She seems to be in awe of how little these women actually interact with their husbands, and how they express relief when the hubbies go away on business because they don't have to be near them for a few weeks and the nannies are taking care of the kids anyway. And then... you realize Martin's own husband features so rarely in their lives that he barely gets a mention in the book, and on a few occasions, he's kind of awful. She says often and immodestly that she's very pretty and has a great body, and that her husband is highly successful and rather older than her. She talks about buying the latest clothes for herself and keeping up with the other women, even if she's saddened that she can't buy her son that $500 blue cashmere sweater she has her eye on in the baby store.
But then there's the chapter on how anxiety-ridden these women are, what rests on their shoulders, what they've given up to be these trophies, what they put their bodies and minds through just for the show of it, and I could actually feel my own anxiety levels going up. There were times in this chapter where I felt a kinship with them — I know what it's like to feel like you're trying to raise your kids on your own, when your husband is travelling and all your friends and family members scatter instead of offering even the smallest amount of help. When it comes to being mothers, there are ways in which we are all alike, despite the bank accounts that show how different we are financially.
But then that revelation is followed by a chapter of how quickly they will oust someone who doesn't follow the social parameters of their tiny club and all sympathy fades away again.
While some people probably find the final chapter very touching — and it really is — where she shows the actual humanity of these women and how they rally around their sisters in need, I found it was also stuck in there, like she needed you to really REALLY like them at the end, and it runs absolutely counter to the way they treat another woman whose life falls apart before their eyes. It was well written, but I didn't believe it.
I've known social climbers in my life, and I've known people who have a LOT of money. And they never seem happy. They're constantly scrambling for that gold ring, and when they get it, they want the platinum. There wasn't a single moment in this book where I actually envied any of these women. I would never, ever want their lives. They are so caught up in managing the households of their husbands and trying to make their bodies their absolute best — so that even if their husbands are having affairs, they will at least come back to them in the end — they never actually have a minute to just relax and be themselves. The only reason Martin found the time to actually write this book is because she moved to the West Side after only a few years there.
So for the book itself, I'd give 4 stars. However, despite this being a lead title for Simon & Schuster for spring, for some reason they seemed to have passed the book off to a low-level editor who didn't ask the right questions. As an editor myself who scours the manuscripts for any editorial inconsistencies, firing questions at authors they never even saw coming and spending hours chasing down records to confirm a date and time, I'm rather appalled at what this editor let slip. For example, the only real date stamp we get is Martin saying they moved to Park Avenue the year after 9/11, so if we begin in 2002 then we figure out everything based on that initial date. Her son is 18 months, and she's pregnant with her second. Later her son is four, and she's pregnant with her second. Later still, she says people have asked her why there is such a big age gap between her kids — almost 6 years. She talks about how she goes through an interview with the co-op board while pregnant and on bed rest, and how the co-op board comes to her room. But it turns out she only ever lived on Park Avenue with the one son — which is borne out by the fact she never mentions the second child except as a pregnancy while she lives there — so that couldn't have been true. She says they decided to move to the West side when both her sons got into a private school there, but she only had one kid at the time.
Though it's been proven she only lived there for three years and stretched it to six in the book just to draw things out, probably (or maybe her editor suggested pretending she'd been there longer than she had would add more credence to the story), she mentions having to catch an Uber cab at one point. Even if we're humouring her and pretending that she actually lived there until 2008 and not 2005, when she actually left, there wouldn't have been an Uber cab in that time frame. She mentions events and places that wouldn't have existed. I don't live in NY but I knew things were wrong immediately. An excellent editor would have caught everything and even if Martin was trying to fudge her son's ages to protect their privacy, the editor would have at least made the fudging consistent. A good editor would have caught the Uber cab thing and noticed her making comments applicable only to 2014, not 2004. She was served badly by whatever editor they stuck her with, and for that reason I'm removing half a star. But unlike other reviewers, I'm not going to slam the book because of the editorial inconsistencies, because I know just how editorially inconsistent many manuscripts are when they come in. It's up to us to fix them, and Martin deserved better.
If you can overlook the inconsistencies, this is a highly entertaining read that will make you much happier if you don't live in a tony NY apartment, and actually enjoy the company of real friends who don't judge you by whether or not you're wearing the latest Louboutins.
As many already know, this is a book written by a mom who lived on Park Avenue for three years, from 2002 until 2005, from what I can gather (though the book claims six years). Because her mother approached everything from the perspective of anthropology, Martin decides to come at this subject matter in a different way. Instead of spending her time as a Park Avenue mum constantly upset and being pushed aside by these at-times horrible creatures, she decided to view them as if they were an entirely new species, and make field notes about them and why they act a certain way.
What I loved about the book the most was that after the initial couple of chapters, where you're at once sickened by these women — picture the "adult" versions of Blair Waldorf — and fascinated by them, she includes a chapter on her very own quest to be more like them by acquiring the holy grail of handbags: the elusive Birkin. The chapter is at times hilarious and eye-rolling (for all the right reasons) but in keeping an upbeat style while writing of her quest to be one of the gang by this one acquisition, she pulls us in and makes us sympathize with her, and for a brief moment you think, "Wait a second... am I sympathizing with these millionaire social climbing trophy wives?" Yes. Yes you are.
Of course, it doesn't take much reading between the lines to realize that despite trying to separate herself from these women, Wednesday Martin (her first name is a pseudonym but I don't know why anyone has a problem with that: haven't you ever heard of Lewis Carroll?) really is one of them. She lives in the most expensive zip code in the United States and her husband is a hedge fund guy. But she keeps trying to play it down, referring to her family as the Haves and the others as the Have Mores. At one point she declares, "It's not like we were billionaires!" Notice she doesn't choose "millionaires" because, clearly, they ARE millionaires. She talks about how these Park Avenue women don't spend any time with their husbands, that they're there simply to make the money and pay for everything they own, but the women run the households, choose the homes, stay there, help fundraising at the schools, manage the housekeeper and nanny, and make sure that these children get into the best schools and have the best opportunities. She seems to be in awe of how little these women actually interact with their husbands, and how they express relief when the hubbies go away on business because they don't have to be near them for a few weeks and the nannies are taking care of the kids anyway. And then... you realize Martin's own husband features so rarely in their lives that he barely gets a mention in the book, and on a few occasions, he's kind of awful. She says often and immodestly that she's very pretty and has a great body, and that her husband is highly successful and rather older than her. She talks about buying the latest clothes for herself and keeping up with the other women, even if she's saddened that she can't buy her son that $500 blue cashmere sweater she has her eye on in the baby store.
But then there's the chapter on how anxiety-ridden these women are, what rests on their shoulders, what they've given up to be these trophies, what they put their bodies and minds through just for the show of it, and I could actually feel my own anxiety levels going up. There were times in this chapter where I felt a kinship with them — I know what it's like to feel like you're trying to raise your kids on your own, when your husband is travelling and all your friends and family members scatter instead of offering even the smallest amount of help. When it comes to being mothers, there are ways in which we are all alike, despite the bank accounts that show how different we are financially.
But then that revelation is followed by a chapter of how quickly they will oust someone who doesn't follow the social parameters of their tiny club and all sympathy fades away again.
While some people probably find the final chapter very touching — and it really is — where she shows the actual humanity of these women and how they rally around their sisters in need, I found it was also stuck in there, like she needed you to really REALLY like them at the end, and it runs absolutely counter to the way they treat another woman whose life falls apart before their eyes. It was well written, but I didn't believe it.
I've known social climbers in my life, and I've known people who have a LOT of money. And they never seem happy. They're constantly scrambling for that gold ring, and when they get it, they want the platinum. There wasn't a single moment in this book where I actually envied any of these women. I would never, ever want their lives. They are so caught up in managing the households of their husbands and trying to make their bodies their absolute best — so that even if their husbands are having affairs, they will at least come back to them in the end — they never actually have a minute to just relax and be themselves. The only reason Martin found the time to actually write this book is because she moved to the West Side after only a few years there.
So for the book itself, I'd give 4 stars. However, despite this being a lead title for Simon & Schuster for spring, for some reason they seemed to have passed the book off to a low-level editor who didn't ask the right questions. As an editor myself who scours the manuscripts for any editorial inconsistencies, firing questions at authors they never even saw coming and spending hours chasing down records to confirm a date and time, I'm rather appalled at what this editor let slip. For example, the only real date stamp we get is Martin saying they moved to Park Avenue the year after 9/11, so if we begin in 2002 then we figure out everything based on that initial date. Her son is 18 months, and she's pregnant with her second. Later her son is four, and she's pregnant with her second. Later still, she says people have asked her why there is such a big age gap between her kids — almost 6 years. She talks about how she goes through an interview with the co-op board while pregnant and on bed rest, and how the co-op board comes to her room. But it turns out she only ever lived on Park Avenue with the one son — which is borne out by the fact she never mentions the second child except as a pregnancy while she lives there — so that couldn't have been true. She says they decided to move to the West side when both her sons got into a private school there, but she only had one kid at the time.
Though it's been proven she only lived there for three years and stretched it to six in the book just to draw things out, probably (or maybe her editor suggested pretending she'd been there longer than she had would add more credence to the story), she mentions having to catch an Uber cab at one point. Even if we're humouring her and pretending that she actually lived there until 2008 and not 2005, when she actually left, there wouldn't have been an Uber cab in that time frame. She mentions events and places that wouldn't have existed. I don't live in NY but I knew things were wrong immediately. An excellent editor would have caught everything and even if Martin was trying to fudge her son's ages to protect their privacy, the editor would have at least made the fudging consistent. A good editor would have caught the Uber cab thing and noticed her making comments applicable only to 2014, not 2004. She was served badly by whatever editor they stuck her with, and for that reason I'm removing half a star. But unlike other reviewers, I'm not going to slam the book because of the editorial inconsistencies, because I know just how editorially inconsistent many manuscripts are when they come in. It's up to us to fix them, and Martin deserved better.
If you can overlook the inconsistencies, this is a highly entertaining read that will make you much happier if you don't live in a tony NY apartment, and actually enjoy the company of real friends who don't judge you by whether or not you're wearing the latest Louboutins.
bivie's review against another edition
3.0
I know she was trying to be tongue in cheek with her comparisons to real anthropological studies but she missed the mark. The best parts of the book were when she was getting into the interactions between the various characters in the social groups. She should have stuck with that.
tarabithia's review against another edition
4.0
Quirky
Interesting story. The fight to be the best is rather sad and pathetic though. The amount of time,money, and effort put into oneself is crazy!
Interesting story. The fight to be the best is rather sad and pathetic though. The amount of time,money, and effort put into oneself is crazy!
ladyars's review against another edition
3.0
Read if you watched Gossip Girl, but don't take anything at face value. I found the "anthropological" parts interesting, but the author may have stretched the connections between observations in the field made by actual anthropologists and personal experiences. But, well, the cover does say memoir.
heidilreads's review against another edition
4.0
A sociologist 's take on the lifestyle of NYC elite...
deschatjes's review against another edition
3.0
Quick read about the terrifying tribe of women living on the upper East side of NYC. But it could equally be describing many amalgamations of people on the inside as they attempt to keep outsiders in their place. Many of the experiences are those that any expat woman would recognize while trying to break yet again into another society. Interesting references to primates and cultural practices