A review by susanatwestofmars
Grand Avenue by Joy Fielding
1.0
Maybe in the time before this book was even set, books like this were the rage. Four friends and a kitchen sink of problems (domestic violence and terrorism, cancer, sexual harassment, LGBT discrimination, infidelity, murder, and more) equals literary success.
And okay, this was originally published in 2001, so it's bound to be horribly out of date by today's standards. But that doesn't account for the inaccuracies and nonsense in these pages. You don't prosecute your best friend's boss and then turn around and defend the kid of a different best friend; the two types of law are vastly different. That's why there are people who specialize in prosecuting sexual harassment and people who specialize in criminal defense law.
If a man has a PFA taken out against him, he would be arrested if he sat in a courtroom in which his ex-wife was called to testify in a trial. And yes, PFAs are worth less than the paper they are printed on in terms of protecting a victim's life-- until you have a repeat offender who is held accountable for his actions. But these characters were so stupid, they let the guy into the house, didn't call the cops, and weren't horrified when he encouraged his three children to abuse his wife IN FRONT OF THEM.
The characters weren't just stupid, they were impossible to like. They were stereotypes: the beauty queen who had nothing in her life other than that one moment. The pudgy, average woman who did pudgy, average things and had kids who were inexplicably polar opposites. The skinny, gorgeous woman who quested for fame and fortune and whose narrative never failed to emphasize all the new luxury items she was surrounding herself with.
Blech.
I can go on. How most of these 500+ pages were summary, not scene. How the writing was perfunctory at best, including one of my all-time favorites: "Sorry," she apologized.
Guess what? The word "sorry" shows me her apology. Don't inform me of what you're showing me.
Just.
Don't.
Ugh... what a train wreck of a book. This is one of those reads that absolutely wasted my time AND insulted my intelligence.
And okay, this was originally published in 2001, so it's bound to be horribly out of date by today's standards. But that doesn't account for the inaccuracies and nonsense in these pages. You don't prosecute your best friend's boss and then turn around and defend the kid of a different best friend; the two types of law are vastly different. That's why there are people who specialize in prosecuting sexual harassment and people who specialize in criminal defense law.
If a man has a PFA taken out against him, he would be arrested if he sat in a courtroom in which his ex-wife was called to testify in a trial. And yes, PFAs are worth less than the paper they are printed on in terms of protecting a victim's life-- until you have a repeat offender who is held accountable for his actions. But these characters were so stupid, they let the guy into the house, didn't call the cops, and weren't horrified when he encouraged his three children to abuse his wife IN FRONT OF THEM.
The characters weren't just stupid, they were impossible to like. They were stereotypes: the beauty queen who had nothing in her life other than that one moment. The pudgy, average woman who did pudgy, average things and had kids who were inexplicably polar opposites. The skinny, gorgeous woman who quested for fame and fortune and whose narrative never failed to emphasize all the new luxury items she was surrounding herself with.
Blech.
I can go on. How most of these 500+ pages were summary, not scene. How the writing was perfunctory at best, including one of my all-time favorites: "Sorry," she apologized.
Guess what? The word "sorry" shows me her apology. Don't inform me of what you're showing me.
Just.
Don't.
Ugh... what a train wreck of a book. This is one of those reads that absolutely wasted my time AND insulted my intelligence.