![]() Her effervescent tone belies a sadness that only really breaks the surface late in the narrative. Later she writes, “Some things happen that are probably best not to write about, so I have to pick out certain things I know I want to remember.” And: “I know better than to waste too much space on men here if only that could translate to real life.” All diaries are constructs of their creators, but Isa is a particularly knowing self-mythologizer: “I’ll admit I always write it like it would be read,” she coyly tells another new pal. ![]() “There are some things I have never even put in my diary,” Isa tells one admirer. If you’ve read about this book but have not yet read this book, you likely imagine it to be a confection of cocktails, rooftop flirtations, bright dresses, and the joys and melancholy of Female Friendship-which, indeed, it is! But while I found the narrator’s jaunts through the glitz and grime of New York in the summer hugely entertaining, what I was most drawn to about the novel, which takes the form of diary entries written by 21-year old Isa Epley, a cash-strapped recent arrival to Brooklyn by way of London, were the nods to what may be going on off-page. ![]()
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