Herby Laura Zigman
And then Elise meets her—Adrienne—Donald’s stunning,/i>
Elise meets Donald on a flight to Washington, D.C., where he teaches and she edits self-help books. He is dreamy: 6’6” with unflinching green eyes and a proclivity for speaking frankly. Incredibly, they fall in love, get engaged, and start discussing wedding invitations.
And then Elise meets her—Adrienne—Donald’s stunning, leggy ex-fiancée. Adrienne is newly single and planning a move to D.C. Cleavage-baring, half-French, and with a degree from Yale, she seduces men with one flick of her hair. Worst of all, she and Donald have remained “good friends” since they broke up. Convinced that Adrienne is out to win Donald back, Elise begins stalking both of them obsessively . . . and starts adding up clues to what looks like a brazen affair.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
“[Zigman] has produced another book of the moment. . . . A fun read.” —New York Daily News
“This is one rampaging hoot of a book, likely to strike a resounding chord. . . . The fun here is in the details.” —The Seattle Times
“Her is as addicting as Zigman’s previous work. . . Sharp, hilarious.” —Bookpage
“A howl. . . . As scary as it is funny.” —USA Today
- Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
- Publication date:
- Sold by:
- Random House
- NOOK Book
- File size:
- 290 KB
Read an Excerpt
We were, as it happened, Donald and I, deciding that evening on how we would have our wedding invitations printed--Engraving? Thermography? Lithography?--when Adrienne, Donald's ex-fiancée, called to share her good news: she was leaving New York to accept a job in Washington, where we lived, just after the first of the year.
It was late November.
We were planning an April wedding.
And until that instant when the phone rang and Donald ran to the Caller ID box by the desk and froze, I had been planning–perhaps naively, perhaps idiotically–on taking the high road when it came to Adrienne and her relentless pursuit of friendship with Donald. I had vowed, without any true understanding of just how deep-rooted and, well, virulent, my particular strain of jealousy was, I see now, to put an end to my obsession. My suspicion. My frenzied insecurity. I had vowed, as they say, at long last, to get a grip.
On my demons.
On my nemesis.
Clearly this was wishful thinking on my part; a momentary lapse of delusional optimism (quite common, I'd read, with most brides-to-be), for nothing of the sort–maturity, acceptance, suffering in silence–was in the cards.
Especially now that she–Adrienne–would be living, as it were, in our backyard.
We had been staring intently at three pieces of Crane's Ecruwhite Kid Finish stationery stock that I'd managed to sneak out of Neiman Marcus's sample book as "souvenirs"–the salesman, stout, balding, moist, had excused himself to take a phone call from an important customer: "And will this be a surprise celebration for the Chief Justice?" (This was, after all, Washington.) The three sample invitations were identical except for the method of printing (which is why I had lifted them: to better understand the hefty price differential) and the surely fictional inviters and betrotheds (Mr. and Mrs. Henry Stewart Evans request the honour of your presence at the marriage of their daughter Katherine Leigh to Mr. Brian Charles Jamison. . . . Mr. and Mrs. Wendell Fields, III, request the honour of your presence at the marriage of their daughter Tiffany Jane to Mr. Phinneas Welch. . . . Our joy will be more complete if you will share in the marriage of our daughter Blah blah blah to Mr. Blah blah blah.). Running our fingers slowly and carefully over the print on each card; holding them up to the light; sniffing them, even (my suggestion), yielded nothing. We were failures in the study and appreciation of fine printing techniques.
"Okay, I give up," Donald said, throwing the invitation he was holding down onto the table and leaning back in his chair until its joints creaked ominously. "Which is which?"
"Beats me." Neiman's had, I explained, not been kind enough to reward my little theft by providing me the answers on the back of each like a set of helpful flash cards.
Donald brought his chair abruptly forward, sat upright, and yawned passionately. He stretched his arms across the table, pushing the sample invitations aside as he did, and reached for my hands.
"Honey?" he said languidly.
"What?" I said flatly.
"May I speak frankly?"
Had he ever spoken any other way? Couldn't we, just once, I wondered, get through some task (eating dinner, washing dishes, having sex) without his need to speak frankly?
"Fine. Speak," I said, waving my hand, giving up. Relieved now to have license to speak his mind (a technicality: he spoke his mind quite freely without my permission, as you'll see), he smiled broadly, then brought his shoulders up in a fake cringe, as if to indicate that he felt just terrible about what he was going to say–even though, I knew, he didn't.
"I'm bored," he said, finally, his confession a guilty pleasure (he was a true Catholic, through and through). "I have to be honest, I'm having a hard time caring"–broad smile, shoulders up, fake cringe–"about how the invitations get printed. I mean, why are we doing this?"
I couldn't have been more bored myself, but I wouldn't have admitted it for the world. Instead, I let my mouth sag slightly into a sad pout.
"Doing what?" I asked. "Getting married or discussing the invitations?"
The phone rang.
"Discussing the invitations, of course," he said. He reached to give my hands a reassuring little squeeze but I withheld them for effect. "I want to get married."
The phone rang again.
"Because." I was about to explain how costly engraving was compared to the other options and how since we couldn't tell the difference anyway, we could, with a completely clear conscience, opt for the cheapest method of the three–lithography–but I was too distracted by the third ring of the telephone. On the beginning of the fourth ring he rose from the dining room table where we'd been sitting, took three steps over to the desk, leaned across it, turned back to look at me, and cringed–this time for real.
From the Hardcover edition.
Meet the Author
Laura Zigman is the author of Animal Husbandry and Dating Big Bird. She spent ten years working in book publishing in New York. Her pieces have appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post, and USA Today. She now lives outside Boston.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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A fun look at just how completely neurotic someone can become when they let irrational fears take over their life. Elise was a complete lunatic when some good old fashioned conversation and honesty would have solved the problem. But then again it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun to read. Her is a great look at what not to do in a relationship and more fun to read than a self-help book.
What turns an ordinarily self-confident attractive woman into a suspicious, lying, sneaking stalker? For twenty-something freelance book editor Elise, it's hearing that her fiance's ex-fiance is moving to town and wants to be neighbors in "Her." To be fair, Elise's fiance Donald mention Adrienne, his ex-, the first time they met. He told her all about Adrienne. He was venting on a plane ride where they happened to be seatmates. Elise thought Donald was cute and overly tall at 6' 6", however didn't really think much more about him until they both actually showed up a week late at a coffeeshop date they had suggested during the plane ride. Hitting it off immediately, things went quickly from there. Both having recently moved from New York City to Washington, D.C., they had a lot in common. Donald is a teacher at a private school, Elise works from home editing books her best friend sends her on a freelance basis. Fortunately, when Adrienne announces she's moving to D.C., for work and wants Donald to show her around the city, Elise's work-at-home schedule allows her plenty of time to go through Donald's old pictures, his computer, his pockets, his phone, anything she can think of to get more information on Adrienne and what she really wants from Donald. Instead of planning for their wedding, Elise finds herself frequently sidetracked by stalking. Adrienne is beautiful, busty, smart, rich and well-connected. Elise can't figure out why Donald and she aren't still together, until Donald admits that it's Adrienne that broke up with him. Then, on several of Elise's stalking expeditions, she finds Donald's car in Adrienne's driveway during school hours, or sees them walking down the street together. When she asks Donald how his day was, he fails to mention his time spent with Adrienne. This kicks Elise's stalking into high gear. Certainly most women would be insecure to have their boyfriend/fiance's ex- in the picture, especially if she's as seemingly perfect as Adrienne. The hijinks that Elise gets into over this situation, however, are not always funny, mostly pathetic. She can't seem to pull herself together no matter how reassuring Donald is, to the point where she almost loses him. This is a decent chick lit story, that is relatable to a point, but after that it's just lunacy.
The unrealistic, stalker-esque characterization of Elise left a great deal to be desired. The plot developed slowly and disappeared in the blink of an eye. Momentary visions of high school drama were evoked as I thumbed through the pages of this novel...only those recollections were real-life, believable.
This was a story that could have been told in less than half the space used. Laura Zigman fills the story with lots of meaningless mental chatter. It wouldn¿t have been so bad had I cared about these characters, but I didn¿t. They are two dimensional and as I saw the central character, Elise, make up far-fetched and incriminating explanations for things she doesn't understand, I simple didn¿t care about her mental anguish. Had I not spent $12 on this book, I would have stopped reading after the first few chapters. My only consolation is that, having read the book, I can record my disappointment in this public forum and possibly spare others from the same waste of time and money.
The main character is mean-spirited and irrational, but not in an entertaining way. I forced myself to carry on until page 127 in hope that the book might redeem itself(it didn't). Gratefully, it's a library book and not a waste of my money, but sadly my time.
I thought this book was a waste of time. The only reason I made myself finish it was because it was selected by my book club. I wanted to smack Elise for not trusting Donald (shallow as he is) or believing she deserved his love. It was a very predictable book and went on way too long.
I loved Laura Zigman's previous works, and I was hooked with this one, too. Although, Elsie's character scared me a bit! Even though I think we all have moments in our relationships where we are insecure, she takes it to an extreme. I definitely would classify her as a 'stalker girlfriend'. She is lucky that Donald was as forgiving as he was...
I found myself a little annoyed with how insecure Elise could be. Granted she is very worried about losing her fiance (Donald) to his very beautiful ex-fiance, but her actions get a little 'out of control'. This book basically puts you inside the mind of a compulsive and jealous stalker girlfriend!
When a woman at long last finds Mr. Right who among us will not admit to a tad of possessiveness and from time to time a touch of the green eyed monster upon hearing of one of his former girlfriends? Precious few (and they're probably not telling the truth). Fanatic obsession is quite another thing. That's not funny - but it is in Laura Zigman's latest. Elise has found Donald and vice versa. Thank goodness, as 38-year-old Donald and 34-year-old Elise are survivors, between the two of them there are 'nearly eight decades of failed relationships, dashed hope, aborted dreams.' Now, they are soon to be wed. Enter the obsession. It starts out innocently enough (as many obsessions do) with a surreptitious prowl through Donald's desk, a search for a photo of Adrienne, his former fiancé. Horror of horrors: she looks just like her name sounds: over the top gorgeous. Even worse, the goddess is returning to town and Donald has invited her to dinner. As he says, they have remained good friends. Who would believe this? Certainly not Elise. Nonetheless, she takes many deep breaths and offers to pick Adrienne up at the airport. For support she takes along her best friend who rather than bolstering Elise promptly falls under Adrienne's spell. Can Donald still find happiness with a manic, unhinged bride to be? Can Elise believe that Donald truly wants her when she fails so miserably in comparison to Adrienne? Read the comic but truthful 'Her' and find out.