Madame Depardieu and the Beautiful Strangers

So they say "don't judge a book by its cover"


Them.


What the fuck do they know?

I picked up Antonia Quirke's memior on a whim (just when I bought Secret Diary of a Call Girl, which is why I was hanging out in the biography section, usually NOT my bookshop haunt... I can't believe I actually hang out in bookshops so often, I have parts of the bookshop that I consider to be my own bookshop haunt...) and the only reason I grabbed it was because of the AWESOME cover on it (and the back cover is even more cool - similar image, but she is standing on tippytoes!). Madame Depardieu and the Beautiful Strangers, which I think is called Choking On Marlon Brando in the US, because those uncultured prudes couldn't possibly know the Great Gerard! I wish they would suck it up and just use the titles these books intended! Sorceror's Stone, indeed. But I digress.


Seeing as I don't live in the UK (anymore), I don't really have any idea who she is, so her autobiography for me was not an in depth exploration of her as a celebrity. Though it was a bit of a delve into the celebrity psyche. Quirke is a film reviewer, loving the movie as an artwork in and of itself, but mostly because of Male Actors (the Beautiful Strangers of the title). Her lovingly crafted odes to the great male stars of the artwork are intertwined into the stories of her beautiful failed romances.

She has been favourably compared to Bridget Jones by some reviewers (sorry, links couldn't be found. Mostly because I couldn't be arsed.) which is both flattering and strange. BJ is after all, not actually a writer herself. Mostly cause she isn't real...

As another chica obsessed with the filmic and all the Boys dotting all things filmic, I found the book hilarious and compelling. I didn't want it to end, and I didn't want to sleep when I read it. And seeing how great my love of sleep is, this is indeed a large claim!

For someone who considers herself to be a third wave or at least late-to-the-game second wave feminist, I sure do read a lot of chick lit, watch too many chick flicks and generally emerse myself in what They considers is the Stuff I Should Like.

And it is not that I generally like it, most of the time I just watch it or read it because I want to know what happens. And it makes me feel icky.

Twilight, for example. Fuck she shits me. What a moany, passive, whingy bitch. What a piece of shit horribly written crappy series that is.

But I still read all 4 books in the space of about 2 weeks... And hated myself for it.


But this! This is Chic Lit that is hysterical, cute and intelligent at the same time.

But I still don't reckon boys will like it much...