Jessica Cutler shocked the world with her sexy blog, detailing her not-so-nice antics as a Senate staffer. Apparently she's not one to let her fifteen minutes simply tick by -- now she has penned "The Washingtonienne," a sleazy and shallow roman a clef.
Jacqueline is a New York party girl, smart and sexy, but somewhat spoiled as well. So when her betrayed boyfriend throws her out of their Manhattan apartment, Jacqueline ends up crashing with a pal in Washington. Her goal? Get a fluff job so she can dress nicely and party. But with her sexy appeal on the fore, she gets a lot more than that.
In an "ugly" city with a lot of middle-aged men, Jacqueline finds that she is a much-desired commodity. She has a series of flings with powerful men who will pay her way, and chronicles her naughty adventures in an online blog. Starting to sound familiar? It gets even more so when she is finally busted, fired, and becomes the center of a media storm.
The sad thing about "The Washingtonienne" is that it could have easily been great. It could have been a naughty sleaze-romp, or a wicked satire about men, women and politics. Instead, it reads like a sex-mad little girl's diary, both immature and obnoxiously self-satisfied. "The lesson I learned was: You can get whatever you want for free by lying and cheating, and there are never any consequences," Jacqueline leers. Well, that about sums up the depth of the entire novel.
Cutler's writing ability is about average for a chick-lit writer, with a lot of lame witticisms and thin characters. Unfortunately, she shows a complete lack of actual inspiration by using her blog and life for the book, but not adding anything to it. We all know how it's going to end, and Cutler doesn't give it any twists to surprise us.
But the thing that really scuppers "Washingtonienne" is Cutler herself. Jacqueline is portrayed as a victim or as a strong woman -- depending on the situation -- and in the end she merely comes across as a sleazy, lazy, mocking brat. Yet Cutler expects us to take Jacqueline seriously, presumably because they are one and the same.
Capitalizing on her fifteen minutes, Jessica Cutler churns out her thin little roman a clef. Too bad she couldn't inject any wisdom or insights beyond "a sucker's born every minute."