Whenever children's classics are discussed, Peter Rabbit is mentioned, so I figured I'd spend a nice summer day finding out what all the fuss is about. Turns out I hadn't missed much. There's a touch of darkness here in there (which I appreciate; not sure how kids would handle it, though), but overall the stories are just meh. The illustrations are cute, but unremarkable as well. I feel like I need something more from children's stories than just a silly rabbit stealing vegetables and other animals trying to eat the bunnies.

Brambly Hedge, on the other hand, I loved and thought much more charming. More about that later.

I absolutely loved Eve's Hollywood (1974), but apparently Babitz's style doesn't translate well to fiction, at least in this one. Plotless and meandering novels are fine, but the bright and perceptive voice has turned dull and introspective. One minute you're reading choppy reminiscences, and next there's a barrage of long sentences without punctuation marks. There's no cohesion or charm in the mess.

Eve's Hollywood is dreamy and breezy and has pink sunsets, rock stars, and best taquitos in the world. L.A. Woman is stiff, goes through the motions, and doesn't hold its shape. Even worse, I couldn't care less about Sophie and her navel-gazing. Gets one extra star purely because the parts about Jim Morrison at the end were pretty good.

Re-read 10.08.2020
No change in rating. Come on now!

The ultimate trashy beach read. The chick-lit novel that comes with balls. Every main character is unpleasant to some degree, even the prim and proper Anne who wanted to get out of a small town, but doesn't realize how much of that social convention she carries with her. Her naivety contrasts with Jennifer's vanity and thirst for love, Helen's two-faced bitchiness, and Neely's self-destructiveness and growing aspiration to become famous. Pills are popped for getting ahead in the show business, staying relevant in the show business, numbing your feelings, and just for general excuses.

Valley of the Dolls is like one giant worst-case scenario. It might be unrealistic, implausible, embellished for shock value, and cheesy, but it's also a glorious little gold nugget whose hilarious ladies' room catfight never gets old. Its excessiveness is all the more entertaining when you know that practically all of the characters were modelled after real-life people, and maybe that readers' sense of curiosity (along with Susann's resourcefulness and enterprising attitude) in part helped it to become one of the most best-selling novels in the entire history of publishing.

The ending kind of makes me feel dead inside, but I wouldn't have it any other way. And remember, ladies and gentlemen: always believe when people tell you who they are. Don't make compromises where the only loser is you.

What about the movie then? With Susann's words: "a piece of shit". Pretty to look at, amazing clothes, and Sharon Tate is a lovely Jennifer, but ultimately it's campy in a bad way and doesn't have the book's soul. I also can't forgive what they did to Anne. Utter nonsense!

13.05.2016
Susann knows how to sink her claws into the reader. Just when things seem to get better for our women and the future shines bright in the distance, something happens and the tunnel closes. Then some turn of events gets you believing again, and the roller coaster starts again and again and again... The circle of life turns into a circle of dolls and resentment.

Valley of the Dolls isn't a mushy romance that sinks into an abyss of paper-tasting plastic characters, who seem to melt under a tighter scrutiny, or a glossy, emotionally simplistic, and rose-tinted fairy tale world, where predictability is a given. Instead, it actually makes you invested in the characters, although they are practically one-dimensional vehicles of psychological exploration.

Both unrealistic with its cheesy plot twists which seem to occur only for shock value, and realistic with its oh-so-common story of downward spiralling lives in the show business, the story is structurally kind of a mess, but a glorious and trashy mess. The fact that I don't mind the heap of clichés dumped on me is a testament of Susann's genius.

Like with The Best of Everything (1958), I noticed that I can digest chick lit when it's set in another time period and has some kind of melancholy or tragic events involved. A retro Mad Men-ish backdrop has so much more value in terms of atmosphere (and basically the only reason why I decided to read this). Valley of the Dolls wouldn't be what it is if it wasn't set in 1940s-60s, or if it didn't have a hilarious cat fight in a ladies' room, self-destructive women popping pills in all the colors of the rainbow, dreams crashing and burning, struggles with fame and expectations concerning private and professional lives, loads of vodka and champagne, and men who are far from dreamy Fabios.

Girly pulp that doesn't make you want to vomit, but to have a cocktail or two and eat chocolate until your head explodes. Essentially, this is the glamorous and excessive cousin of Peyton Place (1956).

"Who wants respect? I want to get laid!"
- Helen Lawson

The next couple of days are dedicated to children's books. To simple times, cocoa by the fireside, running in the fields, and picnics.

Like I mentioned in my Peter Rabbit review, I loved the Brambly Hedge books a lot more. The stories are simple (and perhaps not so special in the long run), but combined with the illustrations they create this warm-hearted and cozy little world. I could have stared at the home cross-sections for hours. And the food! Treats for all tastes that inspired me to write down syllabub to my list of new recipes to try. I mean, white wine and whipped cream can't be bad, right?

My childhood home had an Emil picture book that I used to read over and over again. This summer I had an overwhelming wave of nostalgia and picked up a bunch of Emil books from the library in the hopes that I could return to that same place of happiness. That didn't happen. I guess some childhood favorites are meant to stay in that particular time.

However, even though my heart belongs to other Lindgren books, Emil's adventures are still fun to read. Sure, Emil does a lot of mischief and drives his father nuts, but in one book he also saves his best friend, farmhand Alfred, and in a touching scene holds his hand and stays with him while the doctor treats his sepsis.

The illustrations are charming as well, but the idyllic Swedish countryside really comes to life the best in the color illustrations.