I don’t post about books that often, for many reasons. There are much better book reviewers than me in the blogiverse, I read purely for pleasure and it would feel like a job if I reviewed them, and um, I’m lazy.

But sometimes I read a book that makes me want to lie in bed and gaze into its eyes lovingly. A soulmate of a book. A kindred spirit, a bosom friend, Diana to my Anne of Green Gables. (Okay enough with the analogies.)

The Best Of Everything by Rona Jaffe.

The basic premise: five women working in publishing in the 50s in New York, trying to figure out who they are and where they’re going. It’s like Sex And The City meets Mad Men (I know, I hate those ‘x’ meets ‘x’ comparisons too, but they do save time). It was written in the late 50s, expressly to become a film, but as a book it’s standalone awesome.

It was a bit like being in love. When I wasn’t reading it, I was thinking about it, and when I was reading it, nothing else mattered. I found myself underlining passages throughout, saying out loud ‘I feel EXACTLY like that!’. Naturally, some bits are un peu outdated (I don’t actually know any girls holding onto their virginity like some diamond-studded albatross, for example) but on the whole, sentence after sentence gave me chills. It’s smart, observant and empathetic. I wish I could go back and read it again.

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