Confessions of a Shopaholic by Sophie Kinsella

Ok.

This is the beginning of chapter 1, and as there is nothing here to suggest plot, character, theme, setting, or pathetic fallacy, I think we can assume what the tone of the novel will be. Ok? In its favor, it is short -  and dare I say - pithy?

The next line:

Don't panic.

It is so important that it is worth repeating:

Don't panic.

With panic in italics. Next line:

It's only a VISA bill.

And so we come to the cusp of an inciting event with some conflict. The bill has come; the fun is done. Then the narrator assumes she knows (sorry, I'm assuming this is a female protagonist, call it my sixth sense tingling or perhaps the pink cover is misleading me?) that the bill will be 200 pounds, but then when tallying up purchases it comes to 950 pounds. There was the rug everyone loved,  the Jigsaw suit (whatever that is - I'm beginning to think this book wasn't written with me in mind, which really isn't fair.), contact lenses, hypoallergenic eyeliner,

My question: How can anyone overspend without noticing it?

However, as the narrator wonders what she bought and thinking maybe her credit card was stolen there is a somewhat suspenseful scene here, as we eventually learn what her bill is. The problem is that I can't help think she has brain damage, like amnesia or something; she can't seem to remember buying anything. If this is just the narrator being silly, then this opening is silly, but if this lady has some serious mental disorder, than this is an interesting hook, and I don't mean a disorder of simply being addicted to buying things. That's something everyone struggles with to some degree.

In this narrator's defense, she does ask:

I'm not stupid, am I?

A little self-deprecation goes a long way in revealing character. The question though, that we all need to ask ourselves is do we want to invest the three or four days it will take to read this, if the character really is as stupid as she sounds?

First thing said:

"Ok, Becky?"

I was right the narrator is female.

The title is nice and works well with the opening, though the first line is, like, totally, forgettable, regrettable and redundant. That opening sentence is an utter and epic fail, but as it's only slightly better than a grunt, we can ignore it or skip it and get to line four which is where conflict makes an appearance.

This is a pass for the scene of overspending which everyone can relate to at some point in their lives.

Verdict: Pass

Sincerely,
Rudy Globird

The Other Typist by Suzanne Rindell

They said the typewriter would unsex us.

This is what one may consider a writer's opening line. It is a striking statement that is successful at doing what it is designed to do: attract attention. Anyone at a bookstore who comes across this book accidentally, and opens this to the first page and reads this line will most likely want to read the next and then the next until they find themselves wandering towards the cashier book in hand.

This line doesn't necessarily foreshadow a any particular conflict per say, but rather hints at the premise as the next paragraph explains:

One look at the device itself and you might understand how they - the self-appointed keepers of female virtue and morality, that is - might have reached such a conclusion.

I don't much like the POV switch, but that is my little pet peeve I've yet to come to terms with. This paragraph ends with:

Add to that the sheer violence of its iron arms, thwacking away at the page with unforgiving force. Unforgiving. Yes; forgiving is not the typewriter's duty.

One can't help think that the typewriter is a symbol for something. I'll let you to figure out what. The next paragrpah begins:

I don't suppose I know much about the business of forgiveness, either, as my job has so much to do with the other end of it. Confessions, I mean.

She works for the police and writes out reports on rape, robbery or whatever. Not things a lady was in the habit of being privy to in 1924.

There is more telling about the the life (back story and establishing character motivation) of the narrator and a return to the typewriter unsexing people until finally we come to a scene on page 8 and some dialogue.

First thing said:

"I'm not a ninny, you know."

I like the premise for this and the fact it is revealed early: a secretary to the police. I'm still not sure if this is a mystery or what (I don't read blurbs as they might affect the review process. I have this fear this is a romance or a combination of one with a mystery, but I will read on, as the beginning has pulled me in. Perhaps the time period has something to do with it, you know, the roaring twenties and all.

Verdict: Pass

Sincerely,
Theodore Moracht