Maybe it’s indicative of the kind of year 2020 has been that I previously rated this book five stars. Rereading again in December 2020, I barely give it two. Before, I found Remember Me? to be a harmless, fluffy read that kept me entertained. Now, it reads like the pure distillation of anti-feminism, populated by reprehensible characters we’re supposed to root for purely because the author tells us to.
Right off the bat, my main issue is with the ironically-named protagonist; Lexi Smart. At the start of the story, she’s the typical Sophie Kinsella heroine; flighty, clumsy, aspiring to greater things without being willing to put the work in and, of course, in possession of her own flat in London. Something that, in reality, costs over half a million pounds. Not something someone in a crappy (Lexi’s words, not mine) office job would be able to afford. Post-accident, she’s a successful, driven career woman … and that’s where the problems start. Because she’s a career woman, she’s a bitch. She’s driven to the point of becoming a materialistic trophy wife. She’s alienated all her old friends and replaced them with rich, successful people and that is apparently something to be despised. Because she’s successful, fit and determined, Lexi is portrayed as a shallow, selfish cow. Career women, amirite ladies? It’s gross. The story seems to suggest that lazy, unmotivated Lexi was “good” and driven, successful Lexi is “bad.” Lexi’s old friends - who she goes to great pains to get back on side - are lazy, workshy freeloaders who perform so badly at work their department is due to be shut down, frequently take the piss with overlong lunch breaks and do mean-spirited impressions of their boss while she’s still talking to them. They utterly deserve to be reprimanded. Doing so doesn’t make Lexi a bitch, it makes her so-called friends jealous trolls who are lucky to keep their jobs, quite frankly. Yet the book tries to portray these women as working class heroes, shit on by Lexi as she climbed the corporate ladder, whereas she was just motivated to better herself and they weren’t.
Then there’s Lexi’s new husband, Eric, and her on-the-side lover, Jon. Again, the book tries to tell you that Eric is a tosser and Jon is the one for Lexi…but it shows the exact opposite. Eric takes the time to try and help Lexi regain her memory, even writing an enormous manual to help her and is patient with her. Yes, it’s anal, but it would have taken a lot of work and is meant to help Lexi understand her life. Jon on the other hand, makes no attempt to help Lexi and only cares about her memory loss when it impacts him getting his end away. Sure, Eric and Old Lexi are clearly not suited, but Eric is a good man. Lexi is cheating on her husband with one of his best friends (the line where Eric says Jon is the kind of man you’d trust with your life makes his betrayal an extra kick in the balls) and Jon is banging his friend’s wife. These people are selfish, lying cheats and yet we’re supposed to root for them. The book doesn’t really explain how New Lexi became a successful career woman married to Eric and yet kept being Old Lexi on the side with Jon, but not much in the book holds up to any scrutiny at all.
Perhaps this year has jaded me to the point of finding fault with a fluffy chick-lit book that isn’t meant to be deconstructed, but I just can’t ignore the misogynistic undertones here. Time and time again, the book portrays hard work and achievements as something to be vilified, especially when it comes to women. The haves are vapid bitches (even though they seem perfectly happy and content) and the have-nots are plucky working-class heroes (even though they’re shown to be lazy and disrespectful to their boss and former friend).
If you're in the mood for a quick read that you're not going to delve too deeply into, this might be for you. But if you read books with even the tiniest bit of scrutiny, best steer clear.