They had everything the world could offer...and it was almost enough. They were the Debs of the Year. American princesses splashed across the society pages in their silks and sables, at all the best places, with all the right men. They were adored and spoiled. But they wanted to be loved.
Four friends since school, they were thrust too young into a dazzling world of pleasures that cost too much. And when the parties were over, there was the loneliness, the hurt and the secret scars that bound them together, best friends for life.
Some time ago I found this book in a thrift store, and being amused with the description I decided to fork over the fifty cents. It sat on my shelf for awhile before I decided I was in the mood for some 80s trash and gave it a go. This book did not disappoint.
It was awful. But it was wonderfully awful. It was like V.C. Andrews attempting to write the plot of a Whit Stillman film. There was so much trash crammed into these five hundred pages that it almost doesn't seem possible. Ostensibly the tale of four debutantes in 1946 we follow these girls through their lineage (I see you thinly veiled Gloria Vanderbilt), boarding school days (Miss Chalmers!), debut, and then up through 1976 as they make terrible decisions, rash marriages, and basically define the term "jet set". They settle in Paris for year, Switzerland for awhile, LA, New York, Boston, all at a whim. They work with Grace Kelly, are good friends with Jackie Bouvier (naturally they attend her wedding), and rub elbows with Noel Coward.
And behind it all is the sinister personage of Padraic O'Connor, a steaming caldron of malevolence with a tongue so silver that no one is immune to his villainous whisperings.
I mean, this thing had it all; abandonment, incest, being held captive, abortions, secret babies, brainwashing, nervous breakdowns, excessive Judaism, excessive Catholicism, molestation, the lying and cheating almost seem old hat.
A truly whackadoodle mashup of cheesy gothic & equally cheesy glitter trash. What isn’t focused on the ridiculous Padriac plotline—a Byronic psycho with dreams of winning a Nobel Prize for Literature when he’s not busy knocking up his daughter, holding her bestie hostage as a love slave, or murdering his brother, mother, + wife—resorts to the endless, episodic tedium of name-dropping 1940s celebs & fashion in clumsy, basic prose. I have no idea what June Flaum Singer’s goal was when penning this overwritten, underplotted brick; all I can tell you is that it fails quality standards for either style.
2.5 stars, rounded up for the beginning (I can’t deny the girls’ backstories were intriguing) & the lollerskates WTFery of everything Padriac. He’s creepy as hell, but so redonk that you can’t help laughing at his insane psycho-sexual bullshit. Unfortunately, he & his sister (who is determined to cock-block his evil intent as much as possible) were the only characters who held my attention; everyone else just kinda drifted into the ether of disinterest.
Bottom line: Don’t bother unless it’s for sheer lolz. (Also, there’s gross father-daughter incest. And gross sibling covert incest. And a gross Oedipus complex. Stay classy, Padriac.)
Why I tormented myself for so long with this book is anybody’s guess. In a nutshell: four rich, white girls with too much time on their hands and tons of bad decisions to make. I got the impression the author was trying to turn this into a contemporary Valley of the Dolls (as contemporary as 1982 would allow), but it failed on nearly every aspect. The trashiness of it all was no more scandalous than tea time with Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street.
I have a photograph of me standing in front of my bookcase with this book as one of the books behind me...that was in 1995 and I've only just got around to reading it! lol! Anyway, on to the book. After I had read that it had reminded somebody of V Andrews I groaned and thought 'Oh no! I've just read one of hers and am now bored with her work' but I decided to give it a go anyway. I found it very easy to get into. Loved how it introduced each of the girls and described their backgrounds and a little bit of family history, it held a lot of promise but then, towards the middle of the book, it all got a bit....floppy! I plodded on, hoping that it would pick up again, and it partly did although I found it became quite 'bitty' and from one paragraph to the next a lot of time had passed without anything being mentioned - maybe the author was becoming quite eager to finish the book, as was I! I was glad to get to the end. Not an astounding piece of work but I still thought it was good enough to read even if the size of the typeface was tiny!!
I read 'The Debutantes' in the summer of '89 and was completely blown away. My sister left this book behind after moving out and I stumbled upon it by accident. It was a fantastic book dealing with taboo subjects that left me with a lasting impression. I was quite invested in the story and characters but looking back I think it was a bit too advanced for a 13 year old. This is a good one for my 80's collection.
My best friend got pregnant at 15. She totally escaped into trash novels in the 80s. She fed her habit by perusing through paperback traders and screening the best ones and passing them on to me.
The Debutantes took me back in time where I learned so much about: US immigrants coming to America, how people conduct Thanksgiving dinner back east whose ancestors came over on the Mayflower, World War II, and the big band era. I really escaped into the 1940s and became obsessed with the music, the movies, the clothes, antiques, etc.
Singer’s writing is unique and it’s dated with colorful language from that time. I thought about the characters long after I finished the book.
I read it again in my 40s. I loaned my copy to a flight attendant and we had lots to talk about when he came back to the US. He's a gay x-Mormon from Indiana who loves history.
Today, my cousin showed me a discarded pack of my grandfather’s Lucy Strike cigarettes. The packaging is green. I immediately thought of this book! I feel like I know a little about what his life was like. It makes me feel connected.
I’m not embarrassed that I really liked this book. I like Joan Collins, Stephen King, Anne Rice, Kurt Vonnegut, Margaret Atwood, and the classics, too! Life is too short to have to struggle through books. This one was effortless!
A friend recommended this book and I thought it would be something of a fluffy and undemanding read. The cover certainly doesn't give any clue as to the seedy tale inside. The Debutantes is basically a book about child abuse. There is the twelve year old who is raped by her father and gives birth to his baby, the thirteen year old who is seduced by her teacher and then the sexually precocious thirteen year old who goes to bars to practice her flirting skills with middle aged men and sexually assaults her cousin with a bottle. I admit I didn't finish it, It just felt wrong to read about children's "budding breasts". The font in the edition I received was tiny and the story is so slow. Not for me.
It's a page-turner. The story it is easy to follow and the way the characters were depicted left little to imagination. Despite being on edge the full time, the end of this story was too vague for me, I really recommend it,because it didn't let the hype fall apart.
The best kind of early-80's family saga crazysauce. Read with my jaw hanging open the whole time, thinking, they didn't just... did they? BOY HOWDY, THEY DID.
After a slow start it picks and races along. Darker than your usual trashy blockbuster with some uncomfortable storylines (incest and imprisonment being just two). The ending was slow and unspectacular.
its probably because I'm reading this is the 21st century and not in the 80's so I can't really relate to the characters and I couldn't really enjoy the book
Jag kan inte begripa att man ens kan hitta på en sådan galen bimbo som Sara. Visst, det finns en massa tokiga kvinnor, men hon... Och att de andra låter henne hållas.