By Pamela Ribon.
Here's the brief plot setup of this book: Danielle Meyers has been abandoned by her entire family--except for the best friend she met in high school who adopted her and took her in. The two of them are diehard close, despite the best friend, Smidge, being....one of the most pain-in-the-ass, difficult folks that I am glad I can never meet in real life. Smidge settled down and had a husband and family in the small town south, while Danielle moved to LA, started her own business, got married and divorced. While on their yearly vacation trip together, Smidge breaks the news that her lung cancer's back...and this time it's incurable. And she wants Danielle to take over her life--marry her husband Henry and parent her daughter Jenny. Danielle agrees, even though this is obviously a problematic idea at best--not to mention that she doesn't want to marry Henry and is pretty effing sure Henry feels mutually. Danielle puts her life and love life on hold while she stays with Smidge, and Smidge refuses to tell anyone else that the cancer has returned.
(Note: given the subject matter, it's uh...well, I gave up on trying to not spoil. You know right off the bat where it's going and I can't pretend otherwise for the sake of "not spoiling.")
I had serious doubts about reading this book before I bought it, and that's why this review is gonna be so effing long: I'm gonna talk you into buying it despite my doubts.
My reasons for not wanting to buy it were (a) depressing subject matter, since most of the time I avoid books involving impending death. And (b) because I read the first eight or so chapters online before the book was published and uh...dear god, I hated Smidge and wanted her to die. Given the subject matter...yeah....awkward. Before you even meet the woman on the page, you are hearing about what a pain in the ass she is, how flat out (Southern) rude and insulting she is to Danielle, how she'll throw out or ruin your stuff on the spot if she doesn't approve of it, how she doesn't even really regard Danielle as her own person so much as just an extension of Smidge, and how she can't even be arsed to pick Danielle up at the airport. I was thinking, "What a damn JERK. Why the hell are you putting up with this?!"
And I say this as someone who has had jerky-ish friends in the past (though not in recent years, thank god), and as someone who knows darned well what it is like to only be regarded as another body of the same person (hi, Mom). I know from being in this situation what it is like to be best friend to a lion, and I have been fairly spineless in the past about putting up with whatever the friend or mom dished out myself because I know what it's like when the lion is unhappy. (I love that description in the book.) But even I was all, "Why am I supposed to care about Smidge? Good lord, she's an asshole."
And yeah, well, she is. Most of the time she is one, even throughout the rest of the book, even with cancer killing her. She is one of those charming (when she wants to be) drama queen types who think the world revolves around her, and get what they want all of the time. Except for, well, cancer. Smidge may honestly drive you nutterpants reading this book or make you want to quit reading altogether, and I am not going to lie about it. However...I can say this as someone who started hating her guts...I guess you get used to her? Or at least, Smidge's general world-revolving drama-y jerkiness bothered me less as the story went on, especially when you get why she's making the bad choices that she's doing. Not that I agree with them, mind you, but she had a logic from her point of view. And things do not always stay at the point of Smidge ruling the world and everyone around her argumentatively. She doesn't soften a hell of a lot despite the cancer--she shows more humanity for it, but she still has a temper and makes stupid choices and the like even with an anvil hanging over her head. I appreciated that she didn't become an out-of-character saint or lose her personality due to it, even if I found that personality difficult.
As a character, Smidge is horrifying but believable. I wouldn't want to deal with her in real life whatsoever, but in fiction, she works. I'm just glad she's fictional. Plus, well, occasionally I just plain had to approve of the shit she got up to. My favorite moment was Smidge's graffiti response to some woman being called a slut on a bathroom stall: "While you are wasting your life writing on the bottom of a shit-stained wall, Alexa's out getting laid. Life is short. Flush your tampons." BWAHAHAHAHAH. Upon flipping through the book while debating whether or not to buy it, I found that line and decided to. I can kinda picture that as Smidge's thoroughly inappropriate tombstone saying. Okay, nobody would actually put that on one, but it sums up her 'tude so very well...
I'm not sure if I think it's the best idea to start out the book with hearing about how bad Smidge is before you meet her, mind you--it nearly killed the idea of me reading the book itself, and if it had been written by another author, I don't think I would have given the book a chance after the first few chapters. But I like the author's other works, so eventually I caved in and bought this one anyway. Maybe it might have helped from my point of view to explain earlier why Danielle is so hooked on Smidge, since once we got to the part where she explained how her parents never wanted her and both walked out on her, you get why she stuck with the only person who ever stuck with her her whole life. And how Danielle will stay until the end, even if the idea of marrying Henry doesn't appeal. Then it makes more sense.
And eventually, Danielle starts taking charge of things. She makes the choice to stop putting up with her clients' demands and job when her priorities change, and I deeply enjoyed the moment where she decides to take charge of Smidge, for a change. You go, girl. While Danielle may still go along with some of Smidge's choices, she also chooses them for herself rather than because it's easier to let the lion have her way. Danielle's development is quiet compared to Smidge's--but who wouldn't be in comparison?--but it works. I was actually rather sad to get to the last few chapters of the book, which are more "one, two, skip a few" than the rest of it, because I wished the book could have been longer, or had a sequel covering the post-Smidge years. I would have liked to have seen how that worked on some level. I also wish I knew how Jenny (the book is written as a long letter to Jenny at age 25, after she and Danielle have been estranged for years) responded to the book, but, well, it's reasonable that you don't find that out.
The handling of Jenny in this book--who's 13 and starting the rebellion years as this goes down--is entirely realistic. Danielle's recollections of Jenny are entirely bittersweet, and the hints of more here and there that are coloring Danielle's thoughts even as she doesn't elaborate on them are intriguing. Danielle's not at all shy about calling Jenny out on her teenage behavior, or how noting awkward a younger Danielle was while trying to parent. When you eventually find out why Jenny now hates Danielle, it's sad, but does fit with the world and situation of the story. And you hope that maybe someday, there's a reconciliation.
I would also like to say, as a permanently single woman who can't even claim "At least you can say you were married," I appreciated this book flat out calling out the situation of what happens when your friend is married and you're not and there is JUDGING going on of you. I've told folks that yes, I feel judged daily on not having the husband/house/baby, even if I don't want 2 out of 3 of those, and I mostly get blown off by people saying that isn't true. Maybe that's because I'm a Californian rather than a Southerner and we pretend that marriage isn't everything for women here, but part of why Danielle doesn't tell Smidge off is that she knows darned well that by Southern standards, she is a loser and cannot combat that with arguments. "No husband. No kids. You ain't got a house," is what Smidge judges on. "But in a situation where she's listing my flaws, it doesn't matter why I don't have those things. I don't have them. And to Smidge, having those things would prove I'd done something right with my life. Husband. Kids. House. They're the merit badges earned by grown women." MERIT BADGES EARNED BY GROWN WOMEN. That is SO EFFING TRUE. And while it depresses me like hell that that is a real thing in life, I love that the author flat out admits that this happens and single ladies feel like that.
As for the men of the story, I loved Tucker, who is the voice of sanity and reason in this one. For a fellow who never got over his fiancee ditching him, he's remarkably clear-headed elsewhere as to what exactly Smidge is and how he doesn't buy into her world domination act. Which is refreshing to see in Smidgeland. And he will call things as he sees them to Danielle. I deeply enjoyed that. His "forbidden" (by Smidge) quiet budding romance with Danielle is handled well on all counts, especially the end. The line "Sometimes our hearts make decisions long before our heads get into the game" is what made ME tear up, and I'm a blackhearted bitch who didn't cry at the cancer death.
On the other hand, Henry seems like a perfect fellow who pretty much puts up with whatever Smidge dishes out--I suppose that's ideal for a relationship with her. But since Smidge insists on leaving Henry on the sidelines for everything, you don't get to know him well. I did like the moments of personality you saw of him--such as the time he had a phone conversation with Danielle about her divorce, or when he gets fed up with Danielle later--but I still couldn't help but wonder why the hell he is apparently the only one in the book who hasn't well...figured out what is up with Smidge long before she has to admit it. Yeah, yeah, I know, la la la denial is powerful, but it got a little too farfetched for me with that. I do think it's pretty ah...strange...that nobody, but nobody, calls Smidge on obviously looking sicker and that the obvious has probably happened. When it becomes clear that other folks have deduced it, it's a relief to Danielle AND the audience too. Though it still made me seriously wonder about Henry as a person if he genuinely had NO IDEA what was going on for months on end. I would have had more respect for him if we'd had some indication that he knew or suspected (even the kid suspects!), but he's offstage enough that I don't really know if he did or not. I think we're supposed to deduce that he was that in denial/in the dark, and that doesn't make him look good. But that may just be me. I am not a person inclined towards denial.
Overall, I'm going to give this book three and a half stars. Whether or not you can deal with reading about Smidge is up to you, but if you can take it, it's a darned good book.
(Note: Brief update. Hah, I THOUGHT there was a Farrah Fawcett movie with this plot... Nice in-joke!)