On... The Afterparty

I chose this book just for the cover.

The Afterparty by Leo Benedictus.

And then I read it.

It's brilliant.

I wish the cover for The Dating Detox looked like that, by the way. It would seem so much more appropriate, don't you think? Only with vodka instead of whiskey, and maybe a cigarette stubbed out in it instead of a floating dude (which, by the way, I only noticed after staring at it for a very long time).

People sometimes email me asking for recommendations for books like mine. My suggestions are usually pretty useless. For one thing, I don't read a hell of a lot of chicklit. And though I know there's some great chicklit out there (and, of course, a lot of fluffy shit), I don't know many chicklit books with heroines who drink and swear and screw and work hard and hope and fuck up and recover... and who are, most importantly, funny. And that's why I started trying to write in the first place: I felt like reading something comforting-yet-sharp and nothing satisfied me.

These are the dependably satisfying reads that I usually recommend: Talli Roland's The Hating Game, starring a hilariously strong and snarky heroine. Plum Skyes' Berdorf Blondes always cracks me up. Jennifer Weiner and Candace Bushnell are consistently excellent (they're bestsellers for a damn good reason...). I always enjoy Emily Giffin books, though they're sometimes a little heavy on the concept and light on the laughs. Jilly Cooper is laugh-out-loud funny, but she writes bonkbusters and that's not everyone's cup of hot cha. And Helen Fielding is of course the funniest of all... but don't we all know Bridget off by heart by now?

Anyway, read The Afterparty. It's smart, fast and very funny.