If you read my blog more than once a year, you've probably noticed that I primarily read non-fiction. I'm not sure when or how that happened, but I have no problem embracing my inner nerd and proclaiming that I really love non-fiction. Moreover, when I do read works of fiction, I've noticed that more often than not, those books fall into the historical fiction category (The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, Doc, Alice I Have Been, you get the idea). But a few years ago I read The Devil Wears Prada and thoroughly enjoyed it so when I saw a new Lauren Weisberger title in a bookstore recently, I decided to pick it up.
I didn't like it. In fact, I didn't finish it. This is entirely my fault. If I had bothered to flip it over and read even a smattering of the reviews (i.e., "Pure gossipy pleasure." - Chicago Sun-Times or "Weisberger has a laser focus on the world of the super-cool Manhattan young..." - The Times of London), I would have known this book was not for me. I am not the super-cool. I don't care about the super-cool. And I am especially disinterested in reading about (fictitious) people's (fictitious) Facebook posts. When I think about it, it makes sense that I liked Devil but not so much Last Night - Devil was largely non-fiction. Plus it was funny. Very, very funny.
The long and the short is that I can neither recommend nor not recommend this book. It has characters, it has plot (after years of playing divey bars in New York, a musician finally makes it big, turning his world - and that of his supportive wife - completely on its head), and its well written. If celebrity sightings and Facebook updates are your idea of summer escapism, read away. Me? I'll take those non-fiction tomes any day.
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