How Perfect Is That

How Perfect Is That

by Sarah Bird


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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781439123089
Publisher: Gallery Books
Publication date: 07/07/2009
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 336
Sales rank: 827,718
Product dimensions: 5.20(w) x 8.20(h) x 1.00(d)

About the Author

Sarah Bird lives with her family in Austin, Texas, where she performs her own material regularly at the Hyde Park Theatre. She is the author of eleven books, including The Flamenco Academy and The Yokota Officers Club.

Read an Excerpt

April 3, 2003

4:15 a.m.

Four-fifteen in the morning is the perfect time to catalog the one commodity I am still rich in: regrets. I keep trying to pare that lengthy list down to a manageably brief inventory of everything I failed to acquire during marriage to a scion of one of America's wealthiest dynasties. Over the past few months, I have smelted a King Solomon's mine of lost swag down to the few basics I most regret either not obtaining or not hanging on to:

1. A husband

2. A home

3. A Pap smear

I've added and removed "4. Children" from the list several times. Currently, they are off.

Recently I've also started to regret christening myself Blythe Young. I picked the name at the end of my sophomore year at Abilene High School. It was an improvement over the one my mother had saddled me with, Chanterelle Young. I was tired of being taken for either an exotic dancer or, far worse, exactly what I was, the daughter of a trailer-trash tramp of a mother too stupid to know that in her single, solitary moment of maternal lyricism she had named her only child after a mushroom.

Eighteen years later, however, instead of blithe and young, I feel burdened and every day of my thirty-three years. What I am is divorced, desperate, and currently clinging frantically to a very tenuous toehold here in Bamsie Beiver's historically significant carriage house. Although Bamsie redid the main house in meticulous turn-of-the-century detail for maximum "authenticity" and "tax benefits," my abode never received such tender ministrations. Renovations on the carriage house appear to have started and stopped once the horse turds were swept out.

The sky lightens to a clotted gray signaling that no matter how much I might wish otherwise a new day is dawning. I brace myself for the next item on the chronic insomniac's agenda: an elaborate road trip revisiting all the points in my life where I took disastrously wrong turns. First up, the prenup. I put the prenup on hold, since it is more than a wrong turn; that damned prenup is its own entire journey of the damned with an itinerary drawn up by my former mother-in-law, Ilsa She-Wolf of the SS, known more generally as Peggy Biggs-Dix. Peggy ruined my life. Without her I would still be Mrs. Henry "Trey" Biggs-Dix the Third, mistress of Pemberton Palace. I would still be sleeping on Frette sheets, numbered like works of art, and thick and dense as deep sleep itself. I would still be breathing in air that smelled of lavender, eucalyptus, and the kind of clean that only generations of really dirty money can buy. Without Peggy, I wouldn't be where I am now, huddled in Bamsie's dank carriage house, staring down bankruptcy.

Bankruptcy? Who am I kidding? I was bankrupt when I married Trey. I believed he would rescue me. But his succubus of a mother sliced my oxygen hose and left me gasping on the ocean floor. No, it is what lurks beyond bankruptcy that is so terrifying. I forbid myself to burrow into this rathole any farther. My future will be decided today. So, although the lengthy list of things I would rather be doing than coordinating Kippie Lee's garden party would lead off with "Anything" and finish up with "Gum surgery," I have no choice. One, just one, just one healthy check, could keep me alive long enough to regroup and come back to fight another day.

In another city. Under another name.

Kippie Lee's check is my last, rapidly fading hope for staying out of debtor's prison. The words "debtor's prison" fill my mind with images from A Rake's Progress. Wastrels in powdered wigs despoiling themselves at the gaming tables. Blowsy slatterns in mobcaps with beauty marks painted over syphilitic sores. Grand ladies in Marie Antoinette wigs amusing themselves by gawking at the debt-maddened lunatics imprisoned in Bedlam. The vision is highly motivating.

It is do-or-die time. Failure is not an option. Semper Fi.

Already imagining I have Kippie Lee's check, I prioritize my list of creditors into Vultures and Jackals. Vultures--my unpaid employees, the IRS, inattentive suppliers--won't attack until I've stopped moving. I can let them wait. The Jackals, on the other hand--Sprint, Visa, American Express, MasterCard, Loan Sharks 'R' Us--are already nipping at my hindquarters with their massive, wildebeest-thigh-crushing jaws. This pack will have to be seen to first. I plan to scatter precisely enough dollars in the path of the Jackals to make them unlock their cruel masseters and release my gluteals. That will give me some breathing room.

Thus bolstered, I struggle to clear my mind and fall back to sleep. Instead, the hamsters on their wheels turn even faster. They pull me back, all the way back to the day when I met Henry "Trey" "Tree Tree" "Double T" Biggs-Dix the Third. Back to the beginning of the end.

I met Trey shortly after the dot-com bubble burst and I was in financial free fall owing to the first incarnation of Wretched Xcess, Event Coordination Extraordinaire, going belly-up. Wretched Xcess was not just the name of my business but the encapsulation of an entire zeitgeist as manifested in Austin, Texas. Lord, that was a heady time when too much was never enough and the clever boys in their backward caps, Teva sandals, and cargo shorts could not burn through their venture capital fast enough. Excess, that's what my clever boys wanted and that's what I provided.

Drunk with the rest of the country at the vast money kegger thrown by the venture capitalists, I expanded to meet the needs of my ever-more-demanding clientele. Though the Bubble Boys were still padding around in flip-flops, they could tell their beluga from their osetra. And, in every case, they wanted the beluga. They also wanted the titanium chafing dishes, the Baccarat crystal, and the tablecloths with a four-digit thread count embroidered by French nuns that I felt forced to acquire. High-end all the way. Leveraged to the max. That was when I should have worried. But I had fallen under the spell of my bright boys. We were rewriting the laws of trade and were all going to retire by the age of thirty-four. Thirty-three at the latest. Working was for chumps. We would float together forever on the bubble that had already lofted us so much higher than we could have ever dreamed.

And then?


A bubble. Yes, I could have dealt with a bubble. But did it have to be filled with deadly swamp gas?

We all fell. Just some of us, weighted down with titanium chafing dishes and tablecloths heavy as rugs, hit significantly harder than those who'd pulled rip cords on parachutes in varying hues of gold. Or who'd simply moved into Mom's garage. Mom's garage was never an option for me, since my mother was herself living in a garage. Griz's Hawg Heaven Harley Garage to be exact, owned by her "old man."

Vicki Jo keeps in touch by sending photos taken while she is "riding bitch" on the back of a chromed-out Harley-Davidson, piloted by Griz himself, whom Mom proudly describes as "a 1%er Outlaw Bandido thru and thru." In most of the photos, Vicki Jo is hiking up her top to reveal the bouncing maternal mammaries tanned to a rich, beef-jerky brown. I have to give Vicki Jo this: She has great tits for a woman her age and could almost pass for the thirty-nine she claims. At least when her very inconvenient thirty-three-year-old daughter isn't around. As for Griz, imagine a circus bear riding a motorcycle. Now stick a Nazi helmet atop its sloping head, give it a wallet on a chain, and there you had my mother's paramour.

Yes, my mother is a biker chick. Vicki Jo warned me early and often that mothering was not her "bag." My father had promised to do all the raising if Vicki Jo would handle the birthing. Mom couldn't help but feel she'd been welshed on when her husband died of a heart attack shortly after "the kid" was born. Making the best of a bad deal, my mother got a "shitty-ass, monkey fuck of a job" with the phone company and grudgingly kept me in sneakers and Clearasil for the next sixteen years with periodic memos that this wasn't "the tour" she had "signed on for" and that "we all got to float our own boat in this world." The instant I turned sixteen, Vicki Jo informed me that the "gravy train" had stopped and that her "me time" had begun.

Mom's answer to "What happens to a dream deferred?" was to move to Myrtle Beach, home to a very active biker scene and purchase a wardrobe of leathers, cutoffs, halter tops, and bandannas. Vicki Jo looked upon my childhood as an annuity and felt that every dime she'd put into raising me should have been accumulating interest and be available for withdrawal at any moment. The last time she hit me up for a loan so that Griz could get a valve job before the big Suck, Bang, and Blow Rally, she had been peeved that I was broke.

"What happened to that rich dude you married?"

"Being married to me didn't make him one penny less rich."

"Goddammit, don't tell me you signed a prenup?"

"Okay, I won't."

"What's that monkey fuck's name? Me and Griz are going to pay a visit on his sorry ass."

"Ethan Hawke."

"Gimme the son of a bitch's number."

"I'll get back to you on that."

I don't mention my mother much. All right, I don't mention my mother ever. It isn't that I'm ashamed of her. Or, okay, it isn't just that I'm ashamed of her; I fear the response if I tell the truth. Maybe illustrate it with a snapshot of Mom, riding high behind Griz, top hiked up, tan Mommy muffins exposed, big drunk grin on her leathery face. I fear that my confidant will look from the photograph to me, then back and say, "Ah, that explains it." Because all my mother explains is the obvious: Girls who aren't born rich have to work what the Lord gave them a lot harder than girls who are. We have to work it a lot harder. That is all my mother explains.

April 3, 2003

6:00 a.m.

I am still wide awake when the radio alarm clicks on. I half listen to some story about a superhero file clerk shooting her way like Rambo out of an Iraqi hospital. With an impossible to-do list, I jump into the shower and lose myself in sudsing up with the last of my Bulgari The Blanc shower gel when Trey calls out to me from the next room. My heart stops. I can't make out exactly what my ex-husband is saying, but he uses the earnest, heartfelt tone he puts on when he's trying to sound earnest and heartfelt. And/or get laid.

I'm saved. The hope of being rescued from having to perpetrate Kippie Lee's party makes me giddy with relief.

"Trey?" I trill, stepping naked from the shower, ready to jump into whatever reconciliation/farewell-fuck scenario he might be playing out. I open the door, imagining how dewy and soft-focus I look in the cloud of escaping steam, and behold an empty room. On the radio, President Bush is telling an audience of marines at Camp Lejeune that their brothers in arms have "performed brilliantly in Operation Iraqi Freedom."

I consider it cruel and unusual punishment that the leader of the free world sounds exactly like my ex. Though I know that this cruel disappointment gives me every right to a minibreakdown, I cannot allow myself that luxury. I cannot hurl myself onto Bamsie's lumpy bed and sob my heart out because no one is coming to save me, because no one was ever coming to save me. No, today I have to be a warrior, and I have to gird myself accordingly.

I appraise my wardrobe and consider the critical choice of what to wear. This day, more than any day since the divorce, I have to establish that I still belong on Kippie Lee's side of the social divide. I zip past my Marc Jacobs, my Anna Suis, my Prada. I need more armament than they provide to make it through the coming ordeal. I need the closest thing I have true haute couture; I need the suit of lights. I pluck out my shimmering Zac Posen gold duchesse satin suit. Just putting it on recalls the exquisite feeling of all the fittings I had finagled. A garment custom-fitted by Zac Posen with nine additional arcing darts undulating between hand-finished French seams is like wearing an all-access backstage pass.

Shoes? Chanel heels, of course. I want to broadcast class, not go Sex and the City with Jimmy Choos. I want to get paid, not laid. But which ones? Are the berry peep-toes accessorized with a Swarovski crystal the size of a golf ball too much? I think not. I slip them on and check the effect: intimidatingly prosperous. I can pull off anything in my twinkling shoes and the suit of lights.

On the radio, Bush signs off. "May God bless our country and all who defend her. Semper Fi."

Did our president just say "Semper Fi"? The very words I'd been thinking to myself earlier?

It is as if George W. Bush himself has blessed my mission and promised that everything will turn out fine. What could possibly go wrong?

Reading Group Guide

How Perfect Is That
Sarah Bird

Questions and Topics for Discussion

1. “Try growing up in a double-wide a block off I-20 with a Dairy Queen for your country club, and the boys’ JV football coach for your secret boyfriend when you were barely thirteen. Grit? I have more grit in my craw than a Rhode Island Red” (22). How does Blythe Young’s background help her cope, even in the world of the extremely privileged? Does her Dairy Queen background ever show through her revamped façade of Blahniks and Prada?

2. Even though in the course of the novel Blythe never remounts to the top of the Austin social ladder, she finds her way to a much happier ending. What allows her to find her own definition of success? Who helps her most along the way?

3. How does Austin as a setting animate this story? Could Blythe’s experience take place anywhere else?

4. Blythe’s former mother-in-law, Peggy Biggs-Dix, represents a widely recognized archetype of the upper-class matriarch. What is her role inside her family and in society at large? Do we ever feel sympathy for, or forgive Peggy for ruining Blythe’s marriage? Or does her story mirror Blythe’s own?

5. What do you make of Lynn Sydney at the beginning of the book when she has a short conversation with Blythe at Kippie Lee’s party? Does your opinion of her change when she comes in to save the day at the end of the book? How?

6. Do you, as a reader, relate to Blythe—with her wit, rampant perseverance and creative ways to overcome—even though she can be a scoundrel? If so, how?

7. When imagining being caught by the IRS, Blythe recounts, “I suffered under the delusion that the not really really rich have about the really really rich: I believed that since they have so much, they wouldn’t be so petty.” (40) Do you think Blythe’s “delusion” has roots in reality? Discuss how her former social circle behaves in a petty manner.

8. Blythe establishes herself immediately as different than the Pemberton Heights crowd, but she also separates herself from the Seneca hippies, by such comments as: “Cooking aromas heavy on whole grains, tamari, sesame, recomposition of soybeans, Third World staples so beloved of kids who grow up on Pop-Tarts, then go boho the instant that they move away from the automatic sprinkler systems of their youth. Having grown up on hamburger that needed to be helped and with a sprinkler system that consisted of me and a watering can, I never understood the impulse.” (65) Is Blythe really as different from both as she believes?

9. When Blythe and Millie discuss the Dix family, Blythe recounts the humiliation suffered by Trey’s father, Henry “Junior” Dix the Second, whose own dad enjoyed making him stand in the sun and then would ridicule him with: “ ‘Well, by damn! The little turd does cast a shadow!’ ” (92) Why do you think Bird includes this detail on the Dix family?

10. While rebuilding her life at Seneca House, Blythe has the impulse to romanticize Trey and demonize Peggy, blaming the dissolution of their marriage on his mother. But when Trey appears back in her life, he hurts her immensely again on his own. What differences do you see in the way Blythe recovers the second time around? Do you think she will ever, or should ever, forgive Trey?

11. At first it seems like the friendship between Blythe and Millie is lopsided: that Blythe benefits from the friendship but does not reciprocate. Does your opinion of their relationship change as the book progresses?

12. How does Blythe ingeniously use the idiosyncrasies of the rich against them to survive another day in their company? Think of when she tried to throw a party for Kippie Lee or find a place to live in the Pyramid House. How does the pervasive humor of this book come out during Blythe’s capers?

13. Do you think that Blythe was right in exposing Millie and Sanjeev’s love, even though it created a temporary rift in the girls’ relationship? Was the action driven by Blythe’s usual selfishness, or did she have another motivation?

14. At the “Seneca Falls Spa,” a place where everyone reaches a point of self-discovery, Blythe finally admits to Millie that she had fallen in love with Trey partly because of his money. Why is this admission so important at the end of the book? Were you surprised by this fact?

15. Blythe comes to see her own flaws and moral shortcomings that stem from greed and over-indulgence, and as a result, tries to change course. Do you think that similar trends in American culture are capable of a self-correction?

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How Perfect Is That 3.9 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 15 reviews.
nicole on LibraryThing 10 months ago
Blythe is utterly unlikable, but I completely love her! There¿s a list of quotes at the beginning of How Perfect Is That; one is from Vanity Fair. Blythe is indeed reminiscent of Becky Sharp while there are shades of Amelia Sedley in Millie, who Blythe quickly learns is the only one to see even a hint of good in her. To create a character like Blythe, the author has to be talented otherwise she is simply unlikable and the book is put down because the reader doesn¿t want to know what horrific act the character will commit next. And let me tell you, Blythe does some pretty horrific things. She intentionally drugs a group of women (her former friends) when they realize she cut corners on the food she provided for the party. Since Blythe is all about money and keeping up appearances, it is very enjoyable to see her forced to return to the ¿run-down dump¿ boardinghouse she lived in as a student at the University of Texas.I enjoyed every second of this book. I loved that Blythe¿s character stays true even as she starts to evolve into a slightly less self-absorbed person.
whitreidtan on LibraryThing 10 months ago
Blythe Young was summarily divorced by her husband and subsequently dumped by her supposed friends from the creme de la creme of Austin society. Desperate not to disappear from the stratified group, she resurrects her catering company, but without the money to produce the events for which she was known in the past. Obviously a dreadful idea, she manages to alienate her so-called friends by serving them hors d'oeuvres from Costco and them knocks them out with tiny doses of Rohypnol. As if that wasn't enough, she is being chased, literally, by the IRS.So she runs to the only place she can find refuge and sympathy: back to the grotty student co-op she lived in with friend Millie before she met the Biggs-Dix family (yes, that really is their name and I snorted each time I read it, feeling grateful when it was shortened just to Dix) and became a social-climbing twit. Millie, because she is the long-suffering and compassionate friend, takes Blythe in, lets her stay, and even forgives Blythe for dropping her like a hot potato when other, more glamorous so-called friends came along. But things won't be quite that easy for Blythe, who must face several of her former employees who also live in the house and whom she hasn't paid. She gets called on the carpet for acting like a spoiled princess to whom things are due. Even Millie quickly reaches her limits with this incarnation of Blythe. And so it is time to learn and practice humility.This is really a novel about friendship and redemption and remaining true to what matters, not just as a fall-back option. And as Blythe learns the importance of these things, she really grows. Almost like the Grinch on Christmas Day, you can see Blythe's heart re-learning how to care, to reach outside of herself, and to lose so much of what was bad about the laser self-focus that had become a hardened selfishness. We watch this transformation without being bludgeoned by the morals and this light touch makes the tone just right. As Blythe learns her lessons, we are reminded of the rightness of what she is learning without feeling as if we are reading a sermon.Blythe's desperation to remain a part of Austin society is definitely over the top but since she has dumped her only other friend in lieu of the barracudas who populate the monied ranks, she really doesn't have a choice. As a reader, you waver back and forth between feeling sorry for Blythe and thinking she's a complete jerk who has gotten what is coming to her. There are other characters too, who walk a thin line in this reader's mind: the sanctimonious Sanjeev and Millie as doormat are just two. But the frustrations over character flaws serves to make them more complex and real than they might have been had I loved them all the time. I was uncertain about the IRS storyline, wondering how on earth Blythe has had enough time to be a serious target for the IRS given that her husband took her for every penny in their divorce, said divorce had only been final a year, and her business went bankrupt in the blink of an eye. The character's own explanation that she was being made an example of based on her name and connection to her ex's family just didn't hold enough weight to be completely believable for me. But that was a minor irritant in an overall cute and entertaining story.Bird excels at this sort of book and this one will delight her readers. It proved a thoroughly enjoyable way to spend a few hours.
bookwormygirl on LibraryThing 10 months ago
Blythe Young has been given lemons... and has no idea how to make lemonade with them.She was recently married to a very wealthy man and part of a well-known family, but sadly is now divorced and she made the mistake of signing a pre-nup. So she¿s broke, wearing last years fashion, living in her friends pool-side cabin, and all while trying to maintain her socialite status but failing miserably. Her last chance is to cater an upscale garden party for one of her ritzy friends but that is a total disaster and the last step off the social ladder for her.She¿s bankrupt, being hounded by an IRS agent, and stalked by her irate employees who have not been paid for months, she has been publicly humiliated, and is addicted to pharmaceuticals (oh, and have I mentioned that she hasn¿t had a Pap smear in ten years). Luckily for her she remembers a friend (the only one she can remember and whose calls she¿s been ignoring) and runs to her for help. The only problem, her friend still resides in the same housing co-op she did back when they were in college. While residing amongst the tattooed, the pierced, the rasta-wannabe¿s and the musically hip, she begins to face her sins and make amends for her behavior... but not without getting into all types of scrapes and scuffles along the way.I thought this was hilarious! Blythe is a narrator you will not soon forget. Her story is one full of ups and downs but mostly one of hope. She gets herself into all types of wacky situations and is always in some type of trouble - even when she is trying to do something good it backfires on her. She is funny, sarcastic, witty and clever. All the other characters were quirky and unique and they were just tons of fun. The story is set in Austin, TX and from what I¿ve read from other reviewers - the descriptions of Austin are very accurate and there is a lot of Austin-insider info were someone who is not from or has never been to Austin might not fully comprehend. That was definitely not the case with me and I do fall under the category of never been. This is a quick, easy read with an uplifting message that I would definitely recommend.
Justjenniferreading on LibraryThing 10 months ago
This book was hilarious. I laughed almost from the first word all the way through. And while I couldn't connect with Blythe on a personal level it was entertaining to try and find reason in her messed up logic. She's been cast aside from her once glamorous life and is trying to wide a wave that has long left shore. While she can't seem to realize it, all of her problems are her fault, not her ex-husband or his "evil" mother. Her look on life is a bit disheartening and I can't say I want to trade places with her, however seeing what she comes up with is hilarious. From the Ruffies to the tandem recumbent bike to the "off label" spa clinic this book just kept me laughing. There are so many moments when I was thinking she's screwed now, but somehow she comes up with something. I know I keep mentioning how funny this book was, but I couldn't stop laughing. Even when I was talking to my bf about what was happening in the book he would chuckle. It's a great pick me up, cause if you feel like you have nothing well Blythe has even less, and she's making due (kind of). It's good chick lit and it was a pretty quick read.
cinnleigh on LibraryThing 10 months ago
We¿ve all heard the saying, ¿When you¿re at the top, the only way to go is down.¿ Well, Blythe was at the top. She had it all: the perfect husband, the perfect house and money raining down around her. With nowhere else to go except plummeting off of her perfect cloud, Blythe¿s life does just that. Now a divorcee, Blythe kicks herself constantly for signing that dratted prenuptial agreement and although her life is in shambles, it leads to some great laughs for the reader. HOW PERFECT IS THAT by Sarah Bird is a perfect summer read with drama, suspense and the perfect amount of gossip to fuel our fun-loving little hearts.Blythe¿s story is that of a ruined socialite. She had it all and then in the blink of an eye lost it all as well. Her catering business is now the only thing that is keeping her head above water and even that is plummeting to the ground. What¿s a girl to do when her clients want pâté but refuse to pay her an advance to purchase the goods? Why, she makes it with Crisco, that¿s what.Living in a carriage house, Blythe is trying to survive and attempt to feed herself and her business. Only problem is that everyone keeps coming after her for money! Even her employees want to be paid now! Ha! With a cocktail of liquor and psychiatric medications keeping her going, Blythe must find some way to turn her life around and gain the ability to once again stand on her own two feet. Seeing her old friend Millie as her only escape, Blythe will run to her and beg sanctuary. Will Millie stand with Blythe through thick and thin or will Blythe¿s escapades push Millie to the edge?I thought HOW PERFECT IS THAT was absolutely hilarious. Bird does an amazing job of instilling realism and humor into her story in such a way that we don¿t really question whether or not this could actually happen. Of course it can! Nobody could possibly be creative enough to make up Blythe and her odd ways of going through life¿right? Bird¿s creativity flows through the pages as we encounter events with Blythe that will both drop our jaws and have us rolling on the floor in laughter at the same time.One of these moments for me was right near the beginning where Blythe decides that she must drug the people at the party she is catering so that they won¿t realize how bad the food really is. That scene was unbelievable and hilarious at the same time. I felt horribly guilty for laughing, but how could you not? Bird¿s writing makes you laugh, makes you feel. I absolutely loved that about the book and I imagine that anyone else with a tender spot for stories that make you feel something would love this as well.For a quick, fun, summer read I was expecting good characters but fairly shallow depictions. Instead, I found that Bird¿s main characters were very well developed with multiple layers of complexity. If I¿ve said it once, I¿ve said it a thousand times. This adds depth to the story and acts as another handhold for the brain to attach to. Through the characters, we were more able to fully dive into the story and become one with Blythe. Due to her mishaps, this wasn¿t always pleasant, but being able to feel that connection with a character in a story was fantastic.HOW PERFECT IS THAT was a lovely book with wonderful characters and a good deal of tension to pull the reader in. I loved the story and I believe my rating should reflect that. I would highly recommend this to anyone looking for some good women's fiction, a nice summer read or just something different to carry the mind away. This was a fun story, an emotional story and a great work of fiction by author Sarah Bird.
debnance on LibraryThing 10 months ago
Blythe Young is in trouble. Her rich husband is gone, along with all the trappings that came along with being an Austin socialite. Her business is bust. She owes the IRS big time. She has defaulted on her student loans. Drugs are her only solace. Nowhere to run to, baby.But, then again, Blythe does have somewhere to run to. Her old friend, Millie. And Millie doesn¿t let her down. If you¿ve never read a Bird, you must do it. Now. If you¿re not an Austinite, or at least a Texan, be prepared to enter a unique subculture. It¿s funny, but very, very dark. Go for it. It¿s summer.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
If this was an attempt to write as Carl Hiaasen, the book falls far short. Character development is next to non-existent even for the main character. Definitely not a redeemed character as proclaimed by the review. We were hoping the personalities would be better examined than in even previous books by the author but found this even less. Being a local writer, we were "pulling" for her but were sorely disappointed,
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Blythe Young is recently divorced, broke, and running from the IRS. When she finds herself at Seneca House, the tenement house she lived in while at college, she turns to the only friend she knows she still has left. But although Millie Ott is still the sweet woman Blythe remembers, Blythe has changed, and Millie isn't quite as trusting of Blythe's conniving ways as she used to be. Blythe has come a long way since her trailer park upbringing, and she's determined to stay in the Austin society she married into, even though she no longer bears the right last name. If that means lying, cheating, and playing one socialite against the other, she's willing to do it. But her game comes to a halt at Seneca House. Suddenly, Blythe finds herself making visits to homeless men in the park and street teens who are desperate for direction. And in the process of helping these people, she finds herself, albeit reluctantly. Although she never quite reforms, Blythe learns to use her scheming ways to everyone's best advantage. In How Perfect Is That, Sarah Bird shows us the other side of high society. Blythe is a difficult woman to relate to, if you've always lived on the right side of the law, yet she's endearing in her own way. While we may not relate to her struggles to fit into the right circles, most women experience desperation at some point in their lives, and we never know what sacrifices we'd be willing to make to survive. Ultimately, Blythe faces her debt to society and attempts to repay it with some good. Now, how perfect is that? Reviewer: Alice Berger
MinnesotaReader More than 1 year ago
Sarah Bird has very cleverly written an engaging and humorous depiction of Austin, Texas.from the homeless to the haute couture. Social climber Blythe Young has hustled her way to the top of Austin's elite society. But a nasty split from her patrician husband leaves her penniless and worst of all, a social outcast! To make matters worse, her catering company is failing and she is wanted by the IRS. With her life in a shambles, she is taken in by her old college roommate, whom she had disdained during her ascent into high society. Absolutely hilarious antics ensue when Blythe vows to regain her prominent social standing. Ms. Bird has brilliantly crafted a creative, witty storyline with a delectable cast of unique, complex characters. Her writing is very imaginative, descriptive and laugh-out-loud funny. Through this compelling story, Ms. Bird makes an indirect comment about Austin's high society.their lifestyles and politics. She also teaches a wonderful lesson on the value of female friendships. I thoroughly enjoyed this truly entertaining novel and I highly recommend it!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
AshleyTX More than 1 year ago
By "too wordy" I mean that every sentence of this book seems to be filled with way too many adjectives or cultural much so that I found myself having to read some of the page twice to be sure I knew who was talking or what was being discussed. Unorganized and hard to follow for sure. Honestly, I lost interest before chapter 5 and have not read the entire book. I probably won't read it.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Jennmarie68 More than 1 year ago
This book was hilarious. I laughed almost from the first word all the way through. And while I couldn't connect with Blythe on a personal level it was entertaining to try and find reason in her messed up logic. She's been cast aside from her once glamorous life and is trying to wide a wave that has long left shore. While she can't seem to realize it, all of her problems are her fault, not her ex-husband or his "evil" mother. Her look on life is a bit disheartening and I can't say I want to trade places with her, however seeing what she comes up with is hilarious. From the Ruffies to the tandem recumbent bike to the "off label" spa clinic this book just kept me laughing. There are so many moments when I was thinking she's screwed now, but somehow she comes up with something. I know I keep mentioning how funny this book was, but I couldn't stop laughing. Even when I was talking to my bf about what was happening in the book he would chuckle. It's a great pick me up, cause if you feel like you have nothing well Blythe has even less, and she's making due (kind of). It's good chick lit and it was a pretty quick read.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Guest More than 1 year ago
'How Perfect Is That' is a guided tour to the anthrophology of high and low Austin society as a wannabe socialite takes an hysterically funny tumble from up to downstairs. It is so much fun to laugh at the arrogant, opulent lifestyles of the Bushesque world the heroine, Blythe Young, falls from. The perfect antidote to the evening news! Laughter IS the best medicine.