$22.00
ISBN 0609607243
available through
Amazon
Reviewed by Jenn Wilson
(04/17/02)
Those guys understand -- they don't have this view of the world where
every woman's supposed to be a yuppie. Or a Jane Austen fan...
This novel describes the daily life of Nancy Chan, an upper-class private
call girl in (of course) Manhattan; she struggles throughout to keep her
career a secret from her fiancé, Matt, who is bewildered by her reluctance
to move forward with their marriage. His nosy sister Elspeth bulldozes
along with wedding preparations and plans, much to Nancy's chagrin. We
also meet Allison, a ditzy, blonde "coworker," who flits between poor
career and life decisions; Jasmine, an outspoken, street-smart brunette,
is consistently annoyed by Allie's antics. Liane, Nancy's elderly madam,
serves as a voice of conscience, albeit old-fashioned. We're privy to
a number of Nancy's meetings with regular clients as well, and they
contribute to a lively cross-section of New York culture.
I picked up this book hoping for insight into the profession and the
personalities that thrive within it, and for the most part, I found it.
Nancy describes what she loves about the job -- the freedom, the money,
the control -- but we also witness the negatives, such as blackmail,
stalking by a client, and an IRS investigation. Nancy even describes how
she felt when an older client passed away. And as for her non-work life,
the conflicts and worries hover between comedy and despair: the
never-ending struggle to keep her job a secret (why does everybody fall
back on "freelance copy editor" when they need a career fib?), financial
security, commitment phobia, and exasperation with a difficult friendship
that generates endless sitcom-grade chaos.
I was fascinated with Nancy's transition from willful teen runaway to
callgirl, climbing rungs of a career ladder which, in spirit, many of us
can identify with. Her reflections on the past are well told and very
revealing: they provided insight on how she chose and succeeded in the
profession, which was part of the book's appeal in the first place. It's
clear she's put a lot of effort into analysis, evidenced by the therapist
who appears throughout the book. But much of the material -- the advice
Nancy gives Allison, the tricks of the trade -- seems forced and a little
didactic, like they were hastily pulled in.
The book's greatest success is that Nancy's character seems so authentic,
perhaps due to some degree of autobiography Tracy Quan has written into
the character. Nancy is sensible, driven, and accustomed to control.
Even so, we get to see a few personality flaws, a bit of poutiness or
repressed hostility here and there. The pieces of her rock-solid facade
fit together so convincingly, it's easy to relate to her panic when
something starts to slip, and to her angst over the commitment that will
force her to change -- or give up -- a satisfying line of work. And we
see a few striking vulnerabilities as well. Despite the intimacy implied
by frequent sex, Nancy is lonely, isolated by her secrecy; she cries, in a
breakthrough therapy session, reflecting on the kindness of a client who
called her "a really nice girl."
Incongruously, Matt is two-dimensional at best, and their engagement is
underdeveloped to the point where it seems superficial, despite its
pivotal role in the plot. Nancy expresses more affection for her discount
designer clothes and accessories than for her fiancé -- at least in the
pages of her diary, if we can believe that it represents what's actually
going on in her mind. She agonizes over the way marriage will change her
life, but doesn't convincingly show that she loves him, beyond a few
affectionate descriptions. The scenes with him are rarely private
(dinners with his family, outings to cultural events), and what little we
see of them alone is unconvincing. His blandness and dogged loyalty, in
contrast with her secrecy and resourcefulness, paint him as somewhat of a
schmuck from the start, and I wondered why Nancy was attracted to him in
the first place.
Another major problem focuses on Allison, the bumbling blonde, whose
decision-making mishaps seem to buoy the novel along. It's unclear what
Quan was trying to accomplish with this character; I was unsure whether to
respond to her innate sweetness, the vague sense of hope inspired by her
activism with NYCOT (the New York Council of Trollops, a spoof on a
real-life organization), or the slightly overbaked plot twists resulting
from her scatterbrained decisions. Nancy spends quite a bit of time
either condescending to Allison or just plain making fun of her, often
with help from Jasmine; the effect is awfully mean-spirited, an edge that
doesn't connect well with the idea that we're supposed to like Nancy.
Instead, it simply makes her appear more self-centered.
Oh, yes, and the naughty bits: so few, and so clinical, that I nearly
forgot about them. The book opens with a hilarious mishap during a
threesome, but that's unfortunately as juicy as it gets. Such a missed
opportunity!
Overall, the format of the book was a good choice; diary entries create an
intimacy between author and reader right away, and allow us to feel like
we have a rare glimpse into a world of secrets she won't even share with
her fiancé. But the ending takes unfair advantage of the diary device,
which cheapens the package quite a bit. After a climactic life event I
won't divulge here, Nancy "loses" several months of entries to some kind
of encryption burp, and the next entry is the last one in the book.
In short, a number of significant plot lines are sloppily tied; just when
it started to get juicy and complex, ker-chop. On top of that, the
teasers in the final entry represent so much emotional fast-forwarding
that we're left wondering what the hell happened -- it seems as though
Quan may have gotten bored, or been faced with an ominous deadline or a
major page-count reduction.
Overall, the book was a fun diversion, and I look forward to reading more
from Tracy Quan. But I felt cheated at the end, like I'd reached for a
plump, ripe, juice-engorged strawberry, found a paper cup of Kool-Aid, and
decided to drink it anyway. Quan clearly has an intriguing story to tell,
but her writing unfortunately falls short of her wisdom, and it distracts
from the pleasure of sharing her story. The day-to-day drama worked far
better as a serial column than as a novel, though it was hard to take
seriously in that form. To be a truly compelling and believable read, a
novel just needs more meat, particularly in establishing the relationships
between characters.
And, of course, meatier sex...
