I purchased The Ivy Chronicles off the bargain table at Barnes and Noble hoping for a read comparable to The Nanny Diaries.
The book's main character, Ivy Ames, is newly-divorced from her husband, her high-powered job, and their wealthy lifestyle. Needing to become self-sufficient, Ivy starts her own business as a consultant, assisting parents with the admissions process in the competitive world of NYC private schools.
I found Ivy to be self-absorbed and ridiculous -- and those are her better qualities. This is chick lit -- I wasn't expecting a literary masterpiece, but as the plot unfolds it ranges from implausible and idiotic to just plain pathetic. A couple of Ivy's former co-workers die, having been eaten by alligators. Ivy believes that the daughter of one of her client's will have a better chance of getting accepted into one of the schools if she's a minority, so she takes the girl to a salon for a couple of dark spray-tans, dresses her in an ethnic African-American-inspired outfit, and calls her Wa'Shaunte (the girl's name is Winnie).
Reading through this drivel to a predictable ending was a chore. To be more accurate, I read about two-thirds and skimmed the remainder. If I hadn't purchased the book, I'd have quit reading much sooner.
Quoting Dorothy Parker: "This is not a book to be cast aside lightly. It should be hurled with great force."
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