Local WASP Curtis Sittenfeld to Publish "Thinly Veiled Novel" About Laura Bush
July 7, 2008 02:21 PM
How thinly veiled? This thinly veiled:
A kind, bookish only child born in the 1940s, Alice learned the virtues of politeness early on from her stolid parents and small Wisconsin hometown. But a tragic accident when she was seventeen shattered her identity and made her understand the fragility of life and the tenuousness of luck. So more than a decade later, when she met boisterous, charismatic Charlie Blackwell, she hardly gave him a second look: She was serious and thoughtful, and he would rather crack a joke than offer a real insight; he was the wealthy son of a bastion family of the Republican party, and she was a school librarian and registered Democrat. Comfortable in her quiet and unassuming life, she felt inured to his charms. And then, much to her surprise, Alice fell for Charlie.
Radar has more scoop, and it's even worse than you might expect:
On the heels of two best-selling books, (Prep, The Man of My Dreams), young, Iowa-trained [ed. Cincinnati-bred, her sister was in my class at Seven Hills, her dad Paul, is a principal at Baird] author Curtis Sittenfeld is about to release her most controversial book yet—a thinly veiled novel based on Laura Bush's life that is sure to send the White House into a fury.
According to Radar, the book describes "Alice's" trip to get an abortion administered by her grandmother's lesbian lover. Since it's a "novel," you see, it doesn't have to be true.
Here's another repulsive tidbit: It also describes "Alice" having sex with the brother of the boy she killed. Now Laura Bush was in a teenage car accident that took the life of a friend of hers. But of course, there's no evidence she had a relationship with the dead friend's brother, much less did this:
[H]e pushed me back against the mattress, straddled me, and leaned forward to roll his face between my breasts, pressing them against his cheeks and licking my nipples, his stubble rubbing not unpleasantly against my skin, and the more he grabbed and thrashed, the more the grabbing and thrashing seemed to stir rather than satisfy his desire. He pulled off my pants and underwear at the same time—I was wearing blue jeans, and he had to unbutton and unzip them first—and then I was naked except for my socks, which were white with lace trim. He tugged me upward and flipped me over, and when he said, 'No, you have to be on your knees,' it was the first time either of us had spoken in several minutes.
As far as thinly veiled novels go, I'd say this is clearly in the despicable camp. It least Kitty Kelly used real names when she was making shit up, Curtis.
I expect the Seven Hills alumni mag will produce a fawning review. I saw that because my expectations of my alma mater are so pathetically low. Perhaps the book will be too awful, even for their standards. But I doubt it.
UPDATE: Yes, I realize that for some inexplicable, blogospheric reason, you can't comment on this post. I don't know why. Sorry.