The Devil Wears Prada

I bought this book at Popular’s Book Fest with high expectations. With it being a bestseller and the movie a blockbuster, I thought it would be a good investment. Furthermore, I had the impression that this book is touted the chic lit of all chic lits and should not be missed.

Well, it was good. But not fabulous. Not something that I will put down a week later and say wow! In fact, it took me longer – about a month – to finish, because I can put it down. There isn’t a thing (or page) in there that is motivating enough for me to keep going.

The plot of the book wasn’t that interesting. Most of what was written were just description of how evil Miranda was. The character in the book, Andrea, had failed to draw me in fully enough to symphatise with her. In short, I was just reading the book for the sake of reading it and not fully immersed into the storyline.

Yes, the book did give a whole new dimension to the definition of the boss from hell – and I do believe that anyone would cringe at the misfortune of Andrea ending up with such boss. But, in reality, do these bosses still exist?

I really doubt so.

I mean, true enough, it is just fiction – but isn’t writing fiction about making your story believable? Like Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code and our own Kam Raslan’s Confessions of the Old Boy? A piece of writing that is so unreal would leave a strange taste in your mouth. I felt so.

Perhaps I should just watch the movie instead.

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