I really enjoyed Twenties Girl and Something Borrowed, so I was excited to read Sophie Kinsella’s latest, My Not So Perfect Life.

The opening really nails metropolitan loneliness. I quite like Boston, and I really loved New York and Beijing, but there is a strange feeling of cramming in with dozens of strangers on public transit, while trying to find way to meet up with friends who also have long public transit commutes to jobs with last-minute overtime. My (Not So) Perfect Life hits aspirational city life exactly the way Shopaholic nailed aspirational fashion. In both novels, the plot was fine but almost secondary to the feeling that a great glossy life was just around the corner.

I liked so much of this novel… but ending was jarring and awkward. I mean, I know that a chicklit novel has to wrap up with a great career and a great love, but it felt slightly forced to both have the heroine embrace imperfections and accept today, but also land a great creative role and a handsome, rich boyfriend.