Cecily von Ziegesar

Serena van der Woodsen was the It Girl of New York City's Upper East Side but her departure for boarding school without a word to her friends has left its mark. Her return is fraught with bitchiness, backstabbing and rumours. But the quintessential It Girl knows how to be nothing else and Serena weathers the storm by finding new friends, new hobbies and new drama.

Meanwhile, Blair Waldorf has to adjust to her new normal.

Well.

I can't say this has aged well at all. And was I ever that young show more at seventeen? This was sort of entertaining? But also not really at all?

There's an odd mix of youth, sex and swearing - which is probably more to do with how much I've aged in the last decade - but I felt it worth noting at least. All the characters are either drunk or high, most of them seem to have eating disorders and there's more than one instance of sexual assault. I think most problematic was the way in which the sexual assault was treated so casually. A few instances were barely even commented on and the worst one with Jenny and Chuck was dealt with by Serena telling Chuck to fk off? Just reading the name Chuck had me wanting to take a shower and no one seemed to recognise the seriousness or disgustingness of his behaviour and it was terrible.

From when this was published, I do think we've come a long way as a society regarding attitudes and acceptable behaviors towards and about women. The casual slut shaming, derogatory comments and even sexual touches are no longer left to linger silently - I won't deny it still happens but I definitely think we're more likely to speak up and out about it than we were. So while I recognise it was the norm, it still doesn't sit right, reading it now.

Regarding the book itself - any love I have for the characters is more to do with lingering nostalgia over the television show rather than the book - because frankly none of them were particularly likeable. They were whiny, self-centered and kind of flat. All of them needed therapy. The television show has doubtlessly also not aged well but it's also very different to the book series. Plus I'm a Chuck/Blair fan - I never liked Nate on the show and I absolutely hate him in the book. I don't get what Blair even kind of sees in him.

The confessional tone makes easy reading and the inclusion of the gossip girl blogs breaks up the story and adds drama to the narrative. I liked the style, I just found the plot a bit young for my taste.

When I first read this I rated 3 stars but upon rereading I can't go higher than 2 stars - there's just not enough depth to the characters or the plot to warrant more. show less

Nothing surprising here, except I love it when a character in an otherwise fluffy book has serious literary pretensions. Especially poetic ones. Because then every now and again I get surprised by a great big genuine belly laugh:

Sluts
[By Daniel, a dolorous high school poet. This poem magically gets accepted for publication in the New Yorker. The New Yorker! Because, yeah, that could totally happen. Totally. I mean, it's Just So Profound.]

wipe the sleep from my eyes and pour me another cup

i show more see what you've been trying to tell me all along

shaving your head and handling me (so delicately)

with satin and lace:

you're a whore

-----------------------------------------------------
My version would go a little something like this:


Chick Lit


pour me another glass of champagne

while i wipe the tears of laughter from my eyes.

i see what you've been trying to show me all along:

your genius lies in your unabashed absurdity (such absurdity!).

i should just sit back and accept that you

are the literary equivalent of a small-town stripper:

not very talented but still so entertaining.

you keep writhing on my lap,

and i keep turning the page. show less

I was delighted to receive the ARC for Cecily von Ziegesar's upcoming novel, Cobble Hill. I went into this one expecting Gossip Girl for adults, but I found was a more of a neighborhood ensemble novel, like Jonathan Vatner's Carnegie Hill or Candace Bushnell's One Fifth Avenue. Cobble Hill's in Brooklyn, so these neighbors are all in separate houses, not in the same building, creating a wonderfully gossipy, interconnected setting more like in Abbi Waxman's Other People's Houses, or Rosie show more Millard's The Square. I'm realizing I read this genre a lot, so maybe my next roundup post will be books about neighborhood secrets and affairs.

The characters of Cobble Hill are all a bit over-the-top, in delightfully Brooklyn-creative ways. The novel takes us into four families: a former pop star and his former model wife, a magazine editor (kinda) and her novelist husband, an artist who works in lava and fake blood, a designer who makes, uh, surveillance equipment? creepy manikins? sex toys? all of the above, really. Next to the wealthy creative types are the struggling Brooklyn creatives, a school nurse who's also a drummer and her music-teacher husband.

I loved how dramatic the secrets were, with spouses pretending to have a debilitating disease, disappearing for months at a time, pretending they haven't been fired, cheating, stealing, lying, etc., etc. Mandy, an ex-model, feels tired, heavy, and lazy. So tired and lazy that she has a bed moved into their living room, and pretends she's been diagnosed with MS. Somehow readers are led to this with almost sympathy and understanding for her extreme lie. Of course this is a horrible lie, but haven't we all said "I think I'm coming down with something" as an excuse to lie in bed and watch trash TV? Somehow, this ridiculous and outrageous lie seems like someone a real person would do.

When Wendy gets abruptly demoted from her upscale magazine editor's role to a maternity leave coverage on more of a middle-class imprint, she doesn't mention it to her husband. And she keeps not-mentioning it. Again, we're somehow led to this massive secret with understanding, it's barely even lying when her husband Roy doesn't pay much attention to the things she does say.

In Cobble Hill, British author Roy Clark has written a rainbow of similar novels. Orange is the most popular one, although it seems like no one has ever read it all the way through, not even his wife, Wendy. He's at work on his new book, Red, or maybe Gold, or maybe Red and Gold, questioning whether his new work -- which rambles into questionable sex-in-space scifi pulp territory -- is too much of a departure from the rest of the rainbow series. I couldn't help comparing this to the departure from Gossip Girl and It Girl found here in Cobble Hill.

But it's not a total departure, is it? Because Gossip Girl begins with a sharp eye for the fashion and customs of a certain group of Manhattanites, and then softly exaggerates the highs and lows, until it's less a manners novel than a manners fantasy. That's the feeling in Cobble Hill, too only this time with the focus on Brooklyn creatives instead of prep school heiresses. show less

How can something so wrong.... be so much fun! I was never interested in reading Gossip Girl, which is why I’ve never read the first series and I’ve never watched the television show. I’d actually like to watch the tv show, but for some reason my satellite doesn’t get that channel! Anyway... like I said I never had an interest to read the Gossip Girls series. I assumed they would be some pathetic pieces of trashy literature. Cat fights, drama, shallow people... why would I want to show more read about that? Uh... because it’s addicting and fun that’s why! I am addicted. I love the cat fight, the drama and the shallow people! It’s just like high school, but better because I don’t have to witness all that shit personally. I can turn it off when I want to. And really the writing isn’t trashy at all, the characters... maybe, but not the writing. Again like with Poseur all the trendy name dropping doesn’t do anything for me and really I don’t care what they are wearing. I just want to know who’s with whom and who’s pissed off about it. I like it steamy, I like it dirty. Yeah, I said I like it dirty. You know you love me, The Story Siren show less