The book’s setting is undeniably compelling (if not entirely unique) and Lawrence’s eye for detail and industry knowledge, surely gleaned during her tenures at both Women’s Wear Daily and W magazine, feel spot-on for the period. Yet for all the novel’s breadth, it lacks depth in the places where it might have been most exhilarating and original ... We are offered little sense — other than a fairly standard-issue argument with her parents that leads to a near-total estrangement — of the collective forces that created someone as complex and ultimately self-destructive as Maxine Thomas. I found myself wanting to better understand this inscrutable woman. But maybe that is the point? As the novel rounds to its inevitable conclusion, we come to realize that our narrator has lost her way, stumbling off the path of 'unlikable' and landing firmly in 'unreliable' territory.
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