The NYT talks with Ms Sex and the City about her new book:
Trading a Pursuit of Mr. Right for the Chance to Be Ms. Big
In Candace Bushnell’s new novel, “Lipstick Jungle,” women wear the pants, pay the bills and compete with the big boys of corporate America. They’re a far cry from the man-hunting heroines of Ms. Bushnell’s “Sex and the City” – they are not looking to be swept off their pedicured feet, nor are they content to be the proverbial woman behind every great man. In fact, more often than not, the XY chromosomes in Ms. Bushnell’s jungle are depicted as spineless, useless, or worse – ridiculous.
“The women in this book have realized that you can’t completely rely on men,” said Ms. Bushnell, perched on a pink leather ottoman in her sun-drenched Greenwich Village apartment one recent afternoon. “Women have got to rely on themselves.”
This sisters-are-doing-it-for-themselves sentiment saturates “Lipstick Jungle” (Hyperion), which Ms. Bushnell calls her most feminist work to date. In it she writes, “Success and self-actualization was what really made women glow – they shone with the fullness of life.” Female characters strive to be billionaires, to own yachts, to be mistresses of the universe.
At this rate, Ms Bushnell’s next book will be entitled “Bull-Dyke Divorcees”. Funny, how the word “ridiculous” does spring to mind so quickly when Ms Bushnell’s work is discussed. Her entire ouvre is based on appealing to those who want to think women are just like men, all evidence to the contrary notwithstanding.