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Lauren
Weisberger's first novel, The Devil Wears Prada, is a telling tale
of life as an underling at the fictional Runway magazine. It centres
on Andrea Sachs, a recent Ivy League graduate who is hoping to break
into magazine journalism, her ultimate goal being a job at The New
Yorker. In an attempt to fast-track her way up the career ladder,
Andrea accepts the position as personal assistant to the editor-in-chief
at Runway, Miranda Priestly.
Her
new job has little to do with her ambitions of writing or editing;
it has everything to do with predicting and fulfilling the whims
of her prima donna boss (hence the title: Miranda is ONE BIG prima
donna). However, in return for just one year's work, Andrea is promised
her boss's recommendation, which she hopes will 'send her straight
to the top' working for The New Yorker.
The
question is: Can Andrea, self-confessed as the 'biggest fashion
loser ever to hit the scene', survive a year working for the most-revered
and most-hated woman in fashion?
Knowing
the backdrop to Weisberger's novel, I eagerly anticipated the outcome.
It seemed to be the perfect opportunity to provide a witty commentary,
from an insider's perspective, on the fancies and follies for which
the fashion industry is so notorious.
Afterall,
Andrea is supposedly charmingly unfashionable, with high-minded
ideals of writing for one of the industry's quality publications.
I was sadly disappointed. The Devil Wears Prada is part chic-read,
part commentary on the world of magazine publishing. Its sets itself
an ambitious goal of fulfilling each genre and achieves neither.
Don't
get me wrong; there is nothing wrong with chic-lit books, they're
great for holiday reads and I love a gossipy novel every now and
again. But in The Devil Wears Prada Andrea comes across as worshipping
the very lifestyle that she supposedly eschews.
The
plot is predictable, and part of a wave of tales that seem to be
in vogue in the publishing business whereby, without really knowing
how, the un-nervingly, un-trendy, female of the novel lands herself
one of the most envied, most sought-after jobs in the industry:
the type of job a 'million girls would die for'. Said job then takes
over her life and her values. Girl neglects friends/boyfriend/family
in favour of career, until an unexpected accident/tragedy (delete
as appropriate depending on severity of 'moral' tale) forces her
to reconsider her values. At this point she chucks in the job, realising
it is more important to follow her heart's desires and ambitions.
While she must now work her slow and cumbersome way up the career
ladder, she is much the wiser for her experience and can even furnish
herself with fresh writing material. Bargain!
I have
further problems with the novel's fictional furniture. Character
development is shallow and two-dimensional. It is, arguably, even
more anorexic than the 'clacker's' - Andy's term for the never-ending
line of fashion wannabes - that parade the corridors of Elias-Clark,
Runway's publishing house.
Weisberger's
dialogue is also weak. Even allowing for transatlantic variations
in lingo, I don't think there is any girl on this planet that would
tolerate her boyfriend calling her 'champ', and still see him as
entirely faultless in the way that Andy sees Alex. As one critic
has so aptly said, author Weisberger is such an inept, ungrammatical
writer, you're positively rooting for her fictional alter ego not
to get anywhere near The New Yorker!
In
spite of all my frustrations, however, I must concede that there
was something compelling about The Devil Wears Prada. Perhaps I
was lured on by the hope that the plot might take an unexpected
twist. Or perhaps it was that, just like Andrea, there is a fashionista
lurking in all of us, just waiting to get out!
Katy
Mueller
Read
more reviews from book
readers in Leeds.
The
Devil Wears Prada was published in papareback in October 2003.
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