Having watched the movie many years ago I remember the nasty boss-lady who really was a devil to work for, but not much else. I need a reprieve from the terrifying Shariya where the punishment is a thousandfold worse than the crime (I have just finished reading – to my vast relief – the story of Princess Sultana – “A True Story of Life Behind the Veil in Saudi Arabia”). I pick up this book as a palliative – to soothe the senses and forget for the time it takes me to read this – that anything outside its pages exists.
Apparently, this is true for Andrea as well – the heroine and narrator – nothing outside the world of Elias-Clark and the dictatorship of Miranda Priestly exists. The book begins with Andrea driving a stick-shift – something she is not used to – in heavy New York city traffic and risking life and limb to deliver it to Miranda’s house. On the way she gets a call from Miranda telling her to pick up Madelaine – Andrea has no idea who Madelaine is and has to make several phone calls to find out that M is Miranda’s French Bulldog puppy that is at the vet’s. After a roller-coaster ride navigating the streets and delivering car and pup home in one piece, Andrea walks into her office expecting kudos for a job well done – “I left the car with the garage attendant and Madelaine with your doorman, Miranda,” (“proud to have completed both tasks without killing the car, the dog, or myself”). “And why would you do something like that”, snarls her charming boss – “I specifically requested that you bring both of them to the office!”
Of course, Miranda has done no such thing – her monosyllabic wishes are everyone’s command and the concept of “requesting” is a flat out lie – it just does not exist in her vocabulary and certainly has no place in her life. This beginning sets the tone for the rest of the book – it is a non-stop badgering and brow-beating display of mistress and slave.
To the deep dismay of Andrea’s boyfriend Alex, her friend Lily and even her parents – “And-re-ah” has decided to put up with Miranda’s tyranny for a year because she knows that once she survives a whole year working at a job that “a million girls would die for”, she is guaranteed a transfer to anywhere she wants to be (which is actually to write for New Yorker magazine).
Reduced to a menial with no life to call her own – Andrea runs, fetches, puts up unflinchingly with constant abuse, gives up eating, drinking and sleeping (as they unnecessarily come in the way of a timely completion of a Miranda-dictate). She is in denial about her fraying relationship with Alex – an ostrich with head-in-sand when it comes to facing Lily’s obvious downward spiral into alcoholism.
Miranda’s abuse is constant and unrelenting and there are no soft edges to her personality to provide any relief. In the end, it is not the separation from Alex that brings Andrea to her senses and neither (sadly) is it the news of Lily’s accident (where she could die or lead a debilitating life if she survives). The last straw is actually such an unreasonable request from Miranda – to renew passports for her twin girls overnight so they could fly to Paris to be with her – that the camel’s back is finally broken. Andrea’s much coveted prize of writing for New Yorker is well within sight – Miranda has promised to put in a word for her and has even refrained from criticizing Andrea several times (which equates to praise) – but finally finally – she throws it all away and flies back home after telling M to “f**k off”.
Although M’s bitchiness is exaggerated, I know from personal experience that it exists. Several jobs ago I had a manager who would send me warning emails every time I logged in more than a minute late. I spent all my waking moments fantasizing about the various ways he would/could die a long and painful death. Regardless – I did scold Andrea continuously throughout the book urging her to quit her bloody thankless job. I was really disappointed with many of the choices she made and was downright ashamed when she didn’t fly back to Lily’s bedside when she heard about her accident.
Anyway, all’s well that ends well I suppose – I must be content with that. At least it’s not a true story and at least she always has/had the choice of walking away – something that thousands of women all over the world do not have the freedom to do.