Jennifer Johnson Is Sick of Being Single

August 20, 2012
In McElhatton's ineffectual follow-up to Jennifer Johnson Is Sick of Being Single, Jennifer's longed-for marriage gives her more than she had bargained for. Jennifer's likeable wit and sass are lost for most of the book as she morphs into a submissive, Stepford-esque Midwestern housewife, complete with dyed blonde hair, $7,000 spa treatments, and sorbet-colored, country club designer attire. The story begins with tales of Jennifer and her tycoon husband Brad's botched honeymoon ("...illness, injury, and the unrelenting soundtrack of severe gastric distress..."), then trails into their farcical marriage. Brad's domineering parents give the newlyweds the mansion next door, which Jennifer is soon sharing with her new three-legged rescue dog and a ramshackle family of Asian housekeepers. Brad is rarely home, and when he is, he insults Jennifer's competence as a wife, leading to Jennifer's jarringly snarky lists and charts that fall throughout the book. The abrupt conclusion, when Jennifer's true personality starts to shine through the plastic shell, seems little more than a desperate ploy for the reader's sympathy. Where was that spark while Jennifer was being mistreated by Brad and his mother? Agent: Elizabeth Sheinkman, Curtis Brown.

March 16, 2009
A heroine with Bridget Jones-like neuroses and klutziness learns the costs of scoring a glamorous life in McElhatton's delightful second novel (after Pretty Little Mistakes
). Jennifer Johnson is a financially unstable copywriter toiling in the marketing department of Keller's, a family-run Minnesota department store. Jennifer learns her ex is engaged and is subjected to her younger sister's wedding preparations, horrid dates and a fire in her Hello Kitty–adorned apartment. Enter Brad Keller, the caddish heir to the Keller's department store fortune. Though at first she couldn't imagine that he'd ever be interested in her, soon enough they're dating, and a marriage proposal follows. Things, of course, aren't exactly as they appear, and Jennifer's eventually confronted with the classic dilemma: money or love. Jennifer's a wonderful narrator—honest, witty, self-deprecating and sharply observant—which more than redeems the story's familiar aspects (gay best friend, high maintenance sibling's pending nuptials, lame Internet dates). McElhatton blends just enough cynicism into the whimsical narrative, creating a fun romp through a woman's manifold insecurities.

March 15, 2009
The second novel from the author of Pretty Little Mistakes (2007).

Jennifer Johnson is 30. She's single and has a job writing advertising copy for a middling Minneapolis department store. She recently made the existentially significant shift from a size 10 to a size 12. Both her younger sister and her ex are getting married on Valentine's Day. Jennifer would like to be a real writer. She would like to kick her addiction to Cinnabon. More than anything, she would like to not be single. She's tried online dating. She's completely ignored the obvious affection of her sweet, attentive coworker Ted. Romantically speaking, she is utterly out of ideas. Then handsome department-store heir Brad Keller walks into her life. For reasons she cannot comprehend, he asks her out on a date, and she decides to make him her own—even if that means totally redefining who she is and what she wants out of life. Jennifer is self-absorbed to the point of being totally unpleasant and McElhatton has a tendency to lavish incredible detail upon material goods while completely ignoring emotional development—although the emphasis here is on Jennifer's kitschy dcor rather than, say, Chloe jeans or Christian Louboutin pumps. Most of the novel is pretty much indistinguishable from other chick-lit fare. But, by the end, there's a spectacular—and problematic—shift away from the genre's conventions. Readers who love chick lit will almost certainly be dismayed, and readers who might appreciate McElhatton's ruthlessness are unlikely to pick up her book in the first place.

An odd, flawed book with no obvious audience.

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