Bridget H. (rowanvamp0) - , reviewed on 8/31/2010 + 9 more book reviews

I had never read a Candace Bushnell novel before this and never seen a complete episode of Sex and the City, though I had heard of it. On previewing an excerpt of One Fifth in Vogue, I was intrigued by the profoundly shallow character of Lola Fabrikant, a fabricated girl with a name to match. Now on reading the book, I am genuinely impressed. Candace Bushnell is a true storyteller, and that's no small praise. She's written a page turner, crafted memorable characters with individuality and personality, and given them the most luscious lines to speak. Her subject is not sex despite what you may think. Bushnell's real subject is the pursuit of status and success in New York City at the present moment. Many have tried this subject before, but the Jayne Krentzes and Rona Jaffes of the past were hacks compared to Bushnell. She's not an artist, but she is very clever and even wise. And she spins a darn good story, which is what a novel, to me, should be about. Almost every character in One Fifth Avenue is lacking his heart's desire, is deeply dissatisfied, and these frustrated desires, which conflict with those of their neighbors, drive the plot lines of the novel. The greatest desire of all is not for love, but for real estate, in the form of a penthouse triplex at One Fifth Avenue, up for sale after the death of its centenarian socialite owner, felled on her own terrace in a driving rainstorm. A crowning irony is that this aged doyenne who possesses the acme of desire, the immense apartment atop Manhattan's coveted address, dies of pneumonia because her servants can't locate her in time in the 7,000 square foot apartment. Such is the futility of possession.

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