The pictures told the story. At one point in Kate Flannery’s American Apparel memoir, she receives a series of photos for store display that depict a girl she’d recently hired as a high schooler, posing provocatively for the company’s 37-year-old male leader. The teenager was seemingly becoming a “Dov girl,” one of the employees who shared Dov Charney’s bed.
For consumers who didn’t know the photo subjects personally, American Apparel’s problematic yet iconic ads told a different story. They saw a clean and sexy look (Charney couldn’t abide tattoos or facial piercings) for the 2000s, a retro romp they could join with a clean conscience. The products were made in the U.S.A., after all.
Strip Tees is both a direct indictment of Charney’s culture and an indirect critique of the broader forces that allowed it to flourish.
A lodge with an audible underground stream and five creepy stone "fingers" rising out of the ground? A driverless car rolling into Lake Superior? Multiple desperate drives to Grand Marais? Here for it. Best quote: "My head ached, and my mouth felt like the inside of a ski boot, including the extra woolen sock."
The awkward reality is that each of these four stories is more engaging and less cringe than what happens in Canto Bight in the movie this book was published to promote.
Thank you Penguin Random House Audio for the free audiobook. I love that the author said, "On my gravestone, it will read: for fans of Sally Rooney." For me, that perfectly encapsulates the appeal of this novel — which is, indeed, for fans of Sally Rooney, but is a lighter and more accessible read than, say, Normal People.
The common thread between the two authors, aside from their generation and nationality, is a concern with romantic relationships built on mutual respect and intellectual rapport. How do you break up with a lover when you don't want to break up with a friend?
Dawson absolutely nailed this assignment, creating a Phasma origin story wrapped in a compelling story of internecine conflict far richer than the usual bad-guy sniping. Introducing Vi Moradi to boot! 5/5, no notes.
The conventional wisdom I've always heard about this book is that the movie's perfection is all the more impressive given how bad the novel is. After listening to the audiobook (with incredible narration by Erik Steele), I don't think that's fair.
I understand why the book disappoints many latter-day readers, especially those familiar with the movie: it includes a lot of relationship drama, and reflects some hoary attitudes about gender and race. It's also not exactly "a novel of relentless terror," as the '70s paperback cover suggested: there's terror, all right, but there's a lot of slow-going character development stuffed in there as well.
That said, this is ultimately a highly effective feat of storytelling that established the parameters for a thriller about a killer who shouldn't be all that terrifying: after all, you can always escape it by staying on land. These characters, though, just can't stay away — and by the end, we understand why.
Thank you Penguin Random House Audio for the free audiobook. I laughed my way straight through this chronicle of the absolutely ridiculous era of steroid cinema, when actors could take a punch anywhere but in the ego. Bonus: ‘80s icon Bronson Pinchot narrates!
Thank you Random House for the free book, in which an ambitious marketer rebrands a sexy guru’s wellness retreat — and, in the process, learns that achieving an outer glow is much easier than finding inner peace.