Carrie es la quinta esencia de la mujer problemática que se empeña en buscar el amor donde no debe y quien narra las aventuras de cuatro mujeres, amigas entre sí. Todas ellas tienen un carácter liberal y no tienen pudor a la hora de hablar de sexo, aunque cada una de una forma diferente. Samantha, la cuarentona productora de cine, algo adicta al sexo, cuya generación conoce de sobra la efímera naturaleza de la belleza y la juventud; Charlotte, una romántica que sigue creyendo en el amor; Miranda, que intenta entender el mundo masculino, y Carrie, quizás la más normal de todas… sin olvidarnos de los hombres que solo se acuestan con modelos perfectas y neuróticas, o de aquellos fanáticos de las bicis y las mochilas que se niegan a comportarse como adultos.

Didn’t hate it and actually am baffled as to why so many people did, especially so vehemently.

Let me back up a bit. I have a lukewarm fascination with the show. It’s bubble-gum sweet and draws you in, but at the same time I always found it difficult to relate to such a glorification of capitalism, egotism and selfishness. It was always this weird, nuanced, emotional rollercoaster for me, because it was great to have women be sexually liberated and daring to be free and unlikable and selfish and not sacrificing their everything for the conventional things women are supposed to like and want. But as all feminist-ish friendly shows of the era, and as bubblegum and celebrity feminism itself, the social structures this kind of narrative enforces and glorifies are as harmful as the ones we laud it for subverting. So you know, my general feelings remain as “meh” and the show always stays in the realm of “guilty pleasure” and “hate watch” for me. So this is where I come from, unable to actually call myself a fan of the show, despite having watched it more than twice. Both movies included.

When I found this book I thought it would be perfect for the little bad-book-club we have with a friend, where we try to read exclusively bad, and mostly popular, books, so we can vent about them later and bond and have fun and not be petty at all. I thought going to the source of Sex and the City, the fountain of vain, privileged, thin, white, women, would actually fit out book-club vibe perfectly. The myriad one-star reviews, and did-not-finish shelvings promised me so.
Alas,’ twas not meant to be.
The book reads more as a sociological narration of how mating worked in 90s NY than anything else. The narrator doesn’t take sides, nor tries to glorify the women’s lifestyles or sympathize with them. It felt more like she was describing the modern conundrums these women find themselves in, living in a faux-liberated era and being caught between changing gender roles and expectations. They have money, beauty and want to experience everything promised, freedom, good sex, and romance. But they still are chased by old phantoms, most desperately wanting a husband, maybe children, and fidelity. All while men and social conventions judge them with both old and new standards thus rendering them unable to succeed in all they want.

The characters are not made to be likeable. They are presented as people molded by the fast rhythms of the city, by absurd situations, vile men, exceedingly strict beauty standards. They are hardened, cynical, egotistic, opportunistic women, who can’t connect with their true feelings and wants. The glorification of this lifestyle is also absent, a fact that elevates this book so much more from the movie. Absent are the fashion shows, the fawning over manolos, the infatuation with the posh and glam sparkles the tv show thrived on. We don’t have all that jazz to blind us from what is really going on, from the story this book has to say. Instead we get to be a cold observer of their lives, each with its ups and downs, and the most prevalent feeling in all of this, is a kind of sadness. It’s the same kind of sadness I have when I think about my mother’s life, caught between housework and career, being swallowed, tired and overworked by both, because as fast as the economy changed to accommodate women entering the workforce, domestic life remained stuck in the conventions of the previous century. So while these women are not likeable, it’s very hard to be overly critical and judge them harshly. It’s the kind of nuance and complexity real life has, and the book presents that wonderfully. They’re not idols, nor villains; they are what they had to become to survive.

Sure enough, with the cultural obsession and glorification of fashion and its commerce, the tv adaptation strayed from this portrayal, transforming these characters into role models. Women making it, navigating this life and thriving. It was written as most American tv is, with optimism, likeable characters, and a purpose to promote a certain type of lifestyle while attaching positive feelings to it. Maybe this is why so many people hated the book. In comparison it’s gloomy and full of people you really wouldn’t want hanging around you. Gone are the tales of talented Carrie and fearless Samantha. Gone is the girly vibe of sisterhood, good food and shoes. Instead we get something very close to real life, and real people and our sweet escapism comes crashing down. ( )

You need SJP to make this thing work... ( )

Sex and the City is one of my favourite television shows of all time, and yet every time I read the book I’m left feeling a little bit off kilter. The column is witty in an almost cruel way to the foibles of Manhattan’s dating population, where the show comes off as much more comedic and light, but we can see the seeds of germination for the legendary foursome amongst the book’s large cast. Carrie is the most well-defined, eschewing the author/narrator, if only because she has the most linear relationship which emerges over the course of the book. As in the series, we see her meet the eponymous Mr. Big and go through many relationship ups and downs before finally leaving him for the single life once again. Carrie may have her moments of insanity in the series, but the book makes her almost impossible to like as we are given very little context for some of her madcap behaviour. Was Carrie a real person that the author knew, a clever way of hiding her own dating mishaps behind a mask, or a personality who was embellished into fiction? I’m sure an answer is out there somewhere, but I think I’ll stick to the slightly more normal Carrie from the show, who inevitably gets her man. ( )

Serija je bolja sem u pogledu Keri i Zverke i njihovog odnosa jer je realniji. Zverka je više prikazan kao Boban, a ni Keri nije bolja. Šteta sto je to otprilike poslednja četvrtina knjige, ostatak su nepovezane epizode iz života koje ništa posebno ne govore. ( )