Well, having tackled some 'serious' literature on Wednesday, I felt it was time for something a little lighter (if you're lucky, I'll compensate for this by reviewing a hardcore maths book next time...). 'The Devil Wears Prada' definitely qualifies as 'light', though, as I may have mentioned before, that doesn't necessarily mean poor quality.
In fact TDWP is a rather droll novel, following the adventures of Andy Sachs in her first (and only) year with fictitious magazine Runway (i.e. Vogue) working for notoriously horrible editor Miranda Priestley (i.e. Anna Wintour). Now, I'm not going to go through the plot - I'm sure you've watched the movie and marvelled over Meryl Streep's fabulous portrayal of evil (with a heart) while you sympathised with Anne Hathaway as Andy.
There's a decent chance, however, that you won't have read the novel. I certainly didn't read it until after I had seen the movie, and even then I waited until a particularly bored afternoon. It was worth the wait, and managed to entertain me quite happily for a couple of hours. The characters are very believable (you might think that's a given for an autobiographical novel, but I've read plenty of novels in which it isn't the case), though Miranda Priestley lacks the sense of humour that saves her in the film.
There was rather more venom in the novel than the film, I felt, I suppose partly because it was written when everything was still fresh in her mind, without the benefit of success to soften her. However, it's was still good fun - very nicely written, even if she never quite achieves the brilliance of Austen or even Fielding. Perfect for holidays and lazy days.
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