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Wifey
With more than four million copies sold, Wifey is Judy Blume's hilarious, moving tale of a woman who trades in her conventional wifely duties for her wildest fantasies—and learns a lot about life along the way.
Sandy Pressman is a nice suburban wife whose boredom is getting the best of her. She could be making friends at the club, like her husband keeps encouraging her to do.
Or working on her golf game.
Or getting her hair done.
But for some reason, these things don't interest her as much as the naked man on the motorcycle...
Sandy Pressman is a nice suburban wife whose boredom is getting the best of her. She could be making friends at the club, like her husband keeps encouraging her to do.
Or working on her golf game.
Or getting her hair done.
But for some reason, these things don't interest her as much as the naked man on the motorcycle...
304 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1978
About the author
Judy Blume
197 books10.9k followersJudy Blume spent her childhood in Elizabeth, New Jersey, making up stories inside her head. She has spent her adult years in many places doing the same thing, only now she writes her stories down on paper. Adults as well as children will recognize such Blume titles as: Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret; Blubber; Just as Long as We're Together; and the five book series about the irrepressible Fudge. She has also written three novels for adults, Summer Sisters; Smart Women; and Wifey, all of them New York Times bestsellers. More than 80 million copies of her books have been sold, and her work has been translated into thirty-one languages. She receives thousands of letters a year from readers of all ages who share their feelings and concerns with her.
Judy received a B.S. in education from New York University in 1961, which named her a Distinguished Alumna in 1996, the same year the American Library Association honored her with the Margaret A. Edwards Award for Lifetime Achievement. Other recognitions include the Library of Congress Living Legends Award and the 2004 National Book Foundation's Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters.
She is the founder and trustee of The Kids Fund, a charitable and educational foundation. She serves on the boards of the Author's Guild; the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators; the Key West Literary Seminar; and the National Coalition Against Censorship.
Judy is a longtime advocate of intellectual freedom. Finding herself at the center of an organized book banning campaign in the 1980's she began to reach out to other writers, as well as teachers and librarians, who were under fire. Since then, she has worked tirelessly with the National Coalition Against Censorship to protect the freedom to read. She is the editor of Places I Never Meant To Be, Original Stories by Censored Writers.
Judy has completed a series of four chapter books -- The Pain & the Great One -- illustrated by New Yorker cartoonist James Stevenson. She has co-written and produced a film adaptation of her book Tiger Eyes, and is currently writing a new novel.
Judy and her husband George Cooper live on islands up and down the east coast. They have three grown children and one grandchild.
Judy received a B.S. in education from New York University in 1961, which named her a Distinguished Alumna in 1996, the same year the American Library Association honored her with the Margaret A. Edwards Award for Lifetime Achievement. Other recognitions include the Library of Congress Living Legends Award and the 2004 National Book Foundation's Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters.
She is the founder and trustee of The Kids Fund, a charitable and educational foundation. She serves on the boards of the Author's Guild; the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators; the Key West Literary Seminar; and the National Coalition Against Censorship.
Judy is a longtime advocate of intellectual freedom. Finding herself at the center of an organized book banning campaign in the 1980's she began to reach out to other writers, as well as teachers and librarians, who were under fire. Since then, she has worked tirelessly with the National Coalition Against Censorship to protect the freedom to read. She is the editor of Places I Never Meant To Be, Original Stories by Censored Writers.
Judy has completed a series of four chapter books -- The Pain & the Great One -- illustrated by New Yorker cartoonist James Stevenson. She has co-written and produced a film adaptation of her book Tiger Eyes, and is currently writing a new novel.
Judy and her husband George Cooper live on islands up and down the east coast. They have three grown children and one grandchild.
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May 24, 2020
there could be spoilers, i don't know... i have been drinking....
so, this is my first foray into the bodice rippers group's reading list. i don't know, it wasn't as bad as either of the two romance novels i had to read for my readers' advisory class, but then again it also wasn't as unintentionally funny as either of them. it was actually quite sad. a sad book about reaching out with a vagina in order to find love.
it chronicles the great american dream for women of the recent past - find a nice enough well-off husband, get married, have kids,tend house, play tennis,make pot roast, find yourself terribly bored,attempt suicide, have an affair or two, stay with husband for the sake of the children or whatever, close book. poor wifey. she has a nightmare husband and i do not buy any sympathetic last minute bullshit.
and i am glad that i waited to write this review until after the season premier of mad men, because they have their similarities - poor bored betty draper has one little affair and ends up marrying the guy and she gets called "a whore" by the man whose day is incomplete without an infidelity or two. at least here, the affairs are frequently a little more giggly and overt.
suburbia is a whirlwind of sexuality. there are masturbating motorcyclists on front lawns, pornographic anonymous phone calls, husbands and wives swapping and topless parties and just that general fug of desperate sex that makes me feel so sorrowful inside. the faux-permissiveness where it is all right to fuck someone else's husband, but still have weird hang-ups about the body - ugh.
now, i have no interest in playing tennis or raising kids, but i still am a bit of a chauvinist.i don't know, even though she is frigid and a terrible mother and has a shittily distant (now ex) husband, i sort of envy betty draper. if i had her life, i would just be curled up all day, reading. i would probably ignore the kids as much as she does, but i would have a maid for them to play with, so whatever. all i would have to do is like toss some shit in aspic and call it a meal, smoke some cigarettes, and look pretty. the rest of the time would be all me-time. and that's all i want. i like my job just fine, but if i didn't have to work, if all i had to do was read all day and occasionally frost a cake? i would be in fun city.
but wifey is a sad story. she does not read all day.and that's what gets her gonorrhea. now, i am no whore, but my genitals, they have had some fun. but what she is having here, with her multiple infidelities, is not fun. it is more like revenge and science, all rolled into one.
and this is judy blume! the woman who taught us about menses and nocturnal emissions and fat chicks and divorce and who made me cry every time i read tiger eyes! and i never read forever, but i know very well, what that book taught young girls.
make infidelity sound more fun, judy blume!!
regardless, these are the things i have learned from this particular judy blume book:
if a lady touches a man's nipples, it makes him a fag.
women are jealous of the size of other women's nipples.
if she has sex with him on top, she is just some women's libber trying to overpower her man
you can hook up with your gynecologist and continue to go to him with your vagina for medical reasons and it just isn't awkward at all!
i am doing sex all wrong!
overall, the book is very all right. it is not comical enough to poke fun at, and it is not good enough to really like. but it is a fast read, with no headaches; it is a fine one-day diversion.
now there are some strawberries that have been marinating on the champagne at the bottom of this glass that need my attention...
come to my blog!
so, this is my first foray into the bodice rippers group's reading list. i don't know, it wasn't as bad as either of the two romance novels i had to read for my readers' advisory class, but then again it also wasn't as unintentionally funny as either of them. it was actually quite sad. a sad book about reaching out with a vagina in order to find love.
it chronicles the great american dream for women of the recent past - find a nice enough well-off husband, get married, have kids,tend house, play tennis,make pot roast, find yourself terribly bored,attempt suicide, have an affair or two, stay with husband for the sake of the children or whatever, close book. poor wifey. she has a nightmare husband and i do not buy any sympathetic last minute bullshit.
and i am glad that i waited to write this review until after the season premier of mad men, because they have their similarities - poor bored betty draper has one little affair and ends up marrying the guy and she gets called "a whore" by the man whose day is incomplete without an infidelity or two. at least here, the affairs are frequently a little more giggly and overt.
suburbia is a whirlwind of sexuality. there are masturbating motorcyclists on front lawns, pornographic anonymous phone calls, husbands and wives swapping and topless parties and just that general fug of desperate sex that makes me feel so sorrowful inside. the faux-permissiveness where it is all right to fuck someone else's husband, but still have weird hang-ups about the body - ugh.
now, i have no interest in playing tennis or raising kids, but i still am a bit of a chauvinist.i don't know, even though she is frigid and a terrible mother and has a shittily distant (now ex) husband, i sort of envy betty draper. if i had her life, i would just be curled up all day, reading. i would probably ignore the kids as much as she does, but i would have a maid for them to play with, so whatever. all i would have to do is like toss some shit in aspic and call it a meal, smoke some cigarettes, and look pretty. the rest of the time would be all me-time. and that's all i want. i like my job just fine, but if i didn't have to work, if all i had to do was read all day and occasionally frost a cake? i would be in fun city.
but wifey is a sad story. she does not read all day.and that's what gets her gonorrhea. now, i am no whore, but my genitals, they have had some fun. but what she is having here, with her multiple infidelities, is not fun. it is more like revenge and science, all rolled into one.
and this is judy blume! the woman who taught us about menses and nocturnal emissions and fat chicks and divorce and who made me cry every time i read tiger eyes! and i never read forever, but i know very well, what that book taught young girls.
make infidelity sound more fun, judy blume!!
regardless, these are the things i have learned from this particular judy blume book:
if a lady touches a man's nipples, it makes him a fag.
women are jealous of the size of other women's nipples.
if she has sex with him on top, she is just some women's libber trying to overpower her man
you can hook up with your gynecologist and continue to go to him with your vagina for medical reasons and it just isn't awkward at all!
i am doing sex all wrong!
overall, the book is very all right. it is not comical enough to poke fun at, and it is not good enough to really like. but it is a fast read, with no headaches; it is a fine one-day diversion.
now there are some strawberries that have been marinating on the champagne at the bottom of this glass that need my attention...
come to my blog!
October 26, 2022
Read this back in the day right after it was first released in paperback (1979ish). The wife read it, then I read it. Doubt we would have read this book if it hadn't been written by Judy Blume. (It's not a murder mystery and the topic of extramarital affairs makes me uncomfortable due to deep-seated insecurities.)
You can't go wrong with a Judy Blume book. She could write a novel about a cockroach in love with a beetle and it'd be entertaining. 🪲🪳
You can't go wrong with a Judy Blume book. She could write a novel about a cockroach in love with a beetle and it'd be entertaining. 🪲🪳
August 13, 2010
Wifey is the anti-romance. No sympathetic characters, no personal growth, no love, no happy ending.
A common theme of romance novels is individuals helping one another to heal emotional wounds. These may result from childhood trauma or abuse, oppression by family members or society in general on the basis of gender, appearance, reputation, etc, or experiences of violence, grief, or betrayal. If this were a romance, Sandy would come to grips with her unhappiness, the shallowness of her existence, and falseness of her mother's and peer group's expectations. She would grow as a person and acknowledge her true desires. And she would have better sex.
None of this happens. The book contains sex aplenty, but no sensuality and no affection. The characters are alienated from one another and from themselves. In fact, they are written to be incapable of growth, flat and sterile as paper dolls. Sandy's inability to see those around her, even her own family members, as real people who must have thoughts and needs, signs her own emotional retardation. She is not a person, she is cipher for a demographic of women whose crippled condition Blume wishes to convey.
If I believed that Sandy was a real person -- that people were really this flat, this stupid and selfish and incapable of thought or growth, I would have to rethink a number of the philosophical underpinnings of my life. For instance, I might shift from believing that every individual has inherent worth and rights to agreeing with eugenicists that inferior specimens should be euthanized or sterilized (Sandy and Norman don't seem like they'd miss the kids, anyway). However, I don't believe this. While I buy that not everyone can succeed in overcoming early childhood conditioning and free herself to find a more fulfilling life, I don't accept that anyone is this boring. I've met people who seemed this boring, but we are in Sandy's head and there should be more there. My father used to tell me, There are no normal people, just people you don't know very well yet. Blume doesn't do the "normal" people justice.
I was tempted to theorize about Sandy being a repressed sociopath. That would explain her utter lack of emotional connection, and there are those fantasies of violence against her husband...
But in the end I decided that would be too interesting.
A common theme of romance novels is individuals helping one another to heal emotional wounds. These may result from childhood trauma or abuse, oppression by family members or society in general on the basis of gender, appearance, reputation, etc, or experiences of violence, grief, or betrayal. If this were a romance, Sandy would come to grips with her unhappiness, the shallowness of her existence, and falseness of her mother's and peer group's expectations. She would grow as a person and acknowledge her true desires. And she would have better sex.
None of this happens. The book contains sex aplenty, but no sensuality and no affection. The characters are alienated from one another and from themselves. In fact, they are written to be incapable of growth, flat and sterile as paper dolls. Sandy's inability to see those around her, even her own family members, as real people who must have thoughts and needs, signs her own emotional retardation. She is not a person, she is cipher for a demographic of women whose crippled condition Blume wishes to convey.
If I believed that Sandy was a real person -- that people were really this flat, this stupid and selfish and incapable of thought or growth, I would have to rethink a number of the philosophical underpinnings of my life. For instance, I might shift from believing that every individual has inherent worth and rights to agreeing with eugenicists that inferior specimens should be euthanized or sterilized (Sandy and Norman don't seem like they'd miss the kids, anyway). However, I don't believe this. While I buy that not everyone can succeed in overcoming early childhood conditioning and free herself to find a more fulfilling life, I don't accept that anyone is this boring. I've met people who seemed this boring, but we are in Sandy's head and there should be more there. My father used to tell me, There are no normal people, just people you don't know very well yet. Blume doesn't do the "normal" people justice.
I was tempted to theorize about Sandy being a repressed sociopath. That would explain her utter lack of emotional connection, and there are those fantasies of violence against her husband...
But in the end I decided that would be too interesting.
June 26, 2023
I hadn’t heard of Wifey until I recently watched “Judy Blume Forever”, the documentary on Amazon Prime in which Judy references this book, among her other work. I loved reading many of her books growing up and just earlier this month, enjoyed Summer Sisters, one of her other adult novels. Unfortunately I did not enjoy Wifey as much.
Written in the 1970s, Wifey is about Sandy, a wife whose two children are currently away at summer camp and how she fills her time without them at home. Sandy’s husband Norman encourages her to take golf and tennis lessons at the club, and to socialize with the other wives there. Sandy isn’t really interested in these activities but gives them a half-hearted attempt to appease Norman. Things aren’t great in their marriage and Sandy finds herself often thinking about other men.
I can understand how this book could have been considered juicy and a bit scandalous when it was originally published but compared to other books, it felt cringey. I didn’t like Norman or his expectations of Sandy but I also didn’t care for her or many of the decisions she made. Wifey was an easy read but it would be a stretch to say I enjoyed it.
Written in the 1970s, Wifey is about Sandy, a wife whose two children are currently away at summer camp and how she fills her time without them at home. Sandy’s husband Norman encourages her to take golf and tennis lessons at the club, and to socialize with the other wives there. Sandy isn’t really interested in these activities but gives them a half-hearted attempt to appease Norman. Things aren’t great in their marriage and Sandy finds herself often thinking about other men.
I can understand how this book could have been considered juicy and a bit scandalous when it was originally published but compared to other books, it felt cringey. I didn’t like Norman or his expectations of Sandy but I also didn’t care for her or many of the decisions she made. Wifey was an easy read but it would be a stretch to say I enjoyed it.
August 9, 2010
Rbrs #5
Whoa, Judy Blume!
This is mos-def (just realized I picked this abbr. up from Ceridwen - thanks!) NOT a Romance (romance group, we've lost our way! let's get back to the cheese and giggling!). Other than aitch-ee-double hockeysticks, I can only describe this book as a situation that would create a Romance reader. I know, there are probably well-balanced, happy women out there who gulp down the Romances...but there are also probably extremely unhappy women who would substitute fantastical and repetitive paperback novels for the lack of passion and satisfaction with life. Meet the main character of this book, Sandy.
Sandy's unhappiness with a materially comfortable but lackluster marriage to a colorless husband is inarticulate. She wants...more. More excitement, more joy. More love? She attempts to gain this More by having more sex with more men. But see, she has a super-hoohaa that gives her fireworks twice each time she and her husband, Norman, have "a little something" so really, it's not the sex that she needs.
Norman. Since the POV is Sandy's, we don't see what goes on in his head. I think I may know a Norman irl, someone who wants a routine and freedom to do his guy stuff and not have to say all that touchy-feely junk and is so confused why his wives have not stayed with him. I can't say I understand him, but I do pity the fool. To grow up with a certain system and do all the things to have that system for yourself, then find that she wants you to second her emotions and be unable to adapt? That seems to be the sad grayness of many domestic partnerships.
Blume's writing in this book is simple, often sounding like she's writing for elementary school kids. I guess it's a style that's hard to shake. It's especially expressed when Norman speaks. I'll have to add some quotes when I have the book in front of me.
Then that ending...hmm. I don't like it. I don't believe the reader is meant to like it. It's ice water on the whole roaring women/girlpower idea, not all splashy-like and sudden but hypothermia-like and sneaky. You attempt to break out of the untenable that is eating you away by teaspoons, but the first sign of concession is so new and misinterpreted as a sign of complete change that you forget it's freezing and throw off your clothes. It's warm after all! You never notice when you die.
Whoa, Judy Blume!
This is mos-def (just realized I picked this abbr. up from Ceridwen - thanks!) NOT a Romance (romance group, we've lost our way! let's get back to the cheese and giggling!). Other than aitch-ee-double hockeysticks, I can only describe this book as a situation that would create a Romance reader. I know, there are probably well-balanced, happy women out there who gulp down the Romances...but there are also probably extremely unhappy women who would substitute fantastical and repetitive paperback novels for the lack of passion and satisfaction with life. Meet the main character of this book, Sandy.
Sandy's unhappiness with a materially comfortable but lackluster marriage to a colorless husband is inarticulate. She wants...more. More excitement, more joy. More love? She attempts to gain this More by having more sex with more men. But see, she has a super-hoohaa that gives her fireworks twice each time she and her husband, Norman, have "a little something" so really, it's not the sex that she needs.
Norman. Since the POV is Sandy's, we don't see what goes on in his head. I think I may know a Norman irl, someone who wants a routine and freedom to do his guy stuff and not have to say all that touchy-feely junk and is so confused why his wives have not stayed with him. I can't say I understand him, but I do pity the fool. To grow up with a certain system and do all the things to have that system for yourself, then find that she wants you to second her emotions and be unable to adapt? That seems to be the sad grayness of many domestic partnerships.
Blume's writing in this book is simple, often sounding like she's writing for elementary school kids. I guess it's a style that's hard to shake. It's especially expressed when Norman speaks. I'll have to add some quotes when I have the book in front of me.
Then that ending...hmm. I don't like it. I don't believe the reader is meant to like it. It's ice water on the whole roaring women/girlpower idea, not all splashy-like and sudden but hypothermia-like and sneaky. You attempt to break out of the untenable that is eating you away by teaspoons, but the first sign of concession is so new and misinterpreted as a sign of complete change that you forget it's freezing and throw off your clothes. It's warm after all! You never notice when you die.
July 16, 2010
The naked man in full erection who arrives on Sandy’s lawn, like the Ghost of Christmas Future, does indeed “point” the way, as his actions are both metaphoric and prophetic. From her bedroom window, Sandy watches the man, who discards the sheet initially draped over him, masturbates, and then leaves on a motorcycle. He knows she is watching, and she knows he knows. Though the scene is charged with sexual tension, it is at a remove and both inexplicable and random.
It’s hard to know what Judy Blume hoped to accomplish with this foray into adult literature. Although the book has elements of romance fiction, it’s no bodice ripper. While there are moments of cultural commentary, it is a not a serious novel. Though Sandy’s desire to escape from her affluent suburban life deadened by dull friends and an even duller husband is evident, the book lacks the feminist heft of The Awakening or even Diary of a Mad Housewife, a book referenced in the novel.
Within this generic mishmash, parts of the book reminded me of other literature. Early on, Sandy daydreams that her husband has died. Like the woman in Kate Chopin’s “Story of an Hour,” who has just learned of her husband’s death, Sandy guiltily contemplates what Norman’s death would mean: “Free, free, free. She’d never been free, could only imagine what it might be like.”
After Sandy’s sister, Myra, and her husband, Gordon, have their home in Jamaica burglarized and are threatened with physical danger, they flee back to New Jersey, and create a Jamaican-like “wooded paradise out of their bare acre lot” which conceals an intricate alarm system. Here, though, there is the illusion of safety. Like the characters in Nadine Gordimer’s chilling short story, “Once Upon a Time,” Myra and her husband, Gordon, seek to wall out real life, pretending it doesn’t exist. Similarly, the book presents a clear-eyed view of “white flight,” and the economic excuses whites used to cloak their racism.
Though the book has interesting elements that could have been developed further, Blume dithers. Sandy’s actions, like those of her masturbating visitor, are sexually motivated, but random and inexplicable. Sandy recoils when Norman calls her “wifey” on their wedding night, but she acts diminutively, like a little girl. She’s dissatisfied with Norman’s stolid demeanor and his mechanical approach to sex, and she’s dissatisfied with her life. Yet she does little to make any changes, and throughout the book, is acted on rather than acting. Sex comes to her: the masturbating man on the lawn, the man whispering in her ear, the unbidden advances of Gordon (who, as her gynecologist, has admired her little pussy for some time!), and the return of Shep, the man she thinks she should have married.
*Spoiler alert*
Though the book is loosely constructed throughout, the rapid and disjointed unraveling at the end of the book prompt a reader to wonder if Blume just lost her mind. Out of the blue, Sandy contemplates suicide, with a gun no less. Then—on seeing Gordon, whom she retained as her gynecologist post-affair (eww!), she learns her sexual awakening has resulted in gonorrhea, and all partners need to be informed. Including Norman.
The upshot? Some sturm and drang, but the book ends on a touching note. Sandy’s going to shave her cute little pussy, and Norm will try to be more adventuresome. The masturbating motorcyclist appears one last time, but Sandy has the feeling he won’t be back.
…Judy, you should have stuck with Tales of a Fourth-Grade Nothing and Superfudge.
July 29, 2010
This book is the outtakes from every David Lynch movie. Not the blooper reel, but the scenes that Lynch cut to shave some minutes or just because they were unnecessary and boring. It is, in that way, a found-art piece of all the scraps of daily life and all the momentous decisions people make to be boring.
To me, Blume got the inner life of this cowardly woman, Sandy, all wrong. And I can understand why that would happen. I think women, especially married women, but actually most of us, learn to protect ourselves from judgment and ostracism by writing so many layers of narrative about our selves, and then wrapping our real, vulnerable selves up in those narratives. Eventually, something that we were playing at becomes who we are in an instinctive way. But, I don’t think it becomes who we are in a complete way.
***SPOILERS***
For example, Sandy’s outer narrative is the happy homemaker, and Blume’s inner narrative of her is the scared little girl who longs for sexual freedom. Sandy chooses to abandon the ephemera of sexual freedom because she is a coward. She realizes that she would be equally unhappy in any marriage, so she chooses to stay in an abusive one. She is a threat from Judy Blume to every unhappy housewife who doesn’t value her own sexuality. At the same time, she is Blume’s symbol of the futility of women fighting for freedom in a biased world. She is Blume’s cowardly version of Edna Pontellier.
I don’t buy it, though. I just do not believe that people are that boring. I think there is more that is villainous and more that is heroic in every person than Sandy’s outer and inner narratives allow. Honestly, I’ve thought a lot about these inner and outer stories because Sandy is exactly what my mom’s story of herself always was. That’s not to say that it was a revelatory experience to read this book. It was more like a joke I’ve heard so many times that I forget the end is even a punch line. My mom left her Norman and chose her Shep, but that is neither here nor there, really, in the story. ***END SPOILERS*** And I guess that’s my problem. No woman’s story is actually about her relationship to men. When women frame them that way, I think it’s a smoke screen for an inner life of which they are honestly ashamed, or even of which they are so proud and protective that they can’t share it. Blume sets up an outer, Republican Sandy, and an inner, Democrat Sandy, thereby keeping all of her selves shallow and political.
That is to say that this story about the inner life of a suburban housewife, written by a woman, fails the Bechtel test (credits to Ceridwen and Sock Puppet for bringing that wonderful invention to my notice). And I get that sex is the point of the story, but even in the lesbian adolescence scene, Blume describes one girl as the man and one as the woman, clear that the conduct is about preparing for later heterosexual sex, not about the relationship between the two girls. Then, the description quickly jumps to Sandy’s uncle feeling up his sister-in-law.
And I guess I’m making these criticisms because I don’t think it’s fair to compare this book to bodice rippers or paranormal romance. This book is not silly by any stretch of the imagination. It is not about sunsets and dragons and symbolical fantasy. It is about reality and real fantasy. So, it fails. It’s not true. Sandy’s inner reality is garbage, just like her outer reality. I do not believe that an experience between two adolescent girls lying naked in a bed would contain as little intimacy or feeling as Blume describes. I’m not saying that Blume is lying, I’m just saying that her writing here is as cowardly as Sandy. And I think when women do the zombie act, it’s just that – an act. On some level, I’ll accept that it is a coping mechanism, but it is not real. Maybe it is just my paranoia, but I think feminine cowardice is a lot more sinister than it looks. It is a passive-aggressive version of ambition.
At its best, this book has the atmosphere of Romeo and Juliet - some morons trying to work out their feelings, while the world crumbles around them. At its worst, this book is Eat Pray Love’s mom – trying to show that women aren’t idiots by working with the premise that women are children. After all, who protests the most about not being children? Children. Ultimately, even if you look past all the garbage of Sandy’s fantasies and shallow turmoil, this book still commits the ultimate sin. It is boring.
Also, all the food they eat is really gross.
To me, Blume got the inner life of this cowardly woman, Sandy, all wrong. And I can understand why that would happen. I think women, especially married women, but actually most of us, learn to protect ourselves from judgment and ostracism by writing so many layers of narrative about our selves, and then wrapping our real, vulnerable selves up in those narratives. Eventually, something that we were playing at becomes who we are in an instinctive way. But, I don’t think it becomes who we are in a complete way.
***SPOILERS***
For example, Sandy’s outer narrative is the happy homemaker, and Blume’s inner narrative of her is the scared little girl who longs for sexual freedom. Sandy chooses to abandon the ephemera of sexual freedom because she is a coward. She realizes that she would be equally unhappy in any marriage, so she chooses to stay in an abusive one. She is a threat from Judy Blume to every unhappy housewife who doesn’t value her own sexuality. At the same time, she is Blume’s symbol of the futility of women fighting for freedom in a biased world. She is Blume’s cowardly version of Edna Pontellier.
I don’t buy it, though. I just do not believe that people are that boring. I think there is more that is villainous and more that is heroic in every person than Sandy’s outer and inner narratives allow. Honestly, I’ve thought a lot about these inner and outer stories because Sandy is exactly what my mom’s story of herself always was. That’s not to say that it was a revelatory experience to read this book. It was more like a joke I’ve heard so many times that I forget the end is even a punch line. My mom left her Norman and chose her Shep, but that is neither here nor there, really, in the story. ***END SPOILERS*** And I guess that’s my problem. No woman’s story is actually about her relationship to men. When women frame them that way, I think it’s a smoke screen for an inner life of which they are honestly ashamed, or even of which they are so proud and protective that they can’t share it. Blume sets up an outer, Republican Sandy, and an inner, Democrat Sandy, thereby keeping all of her selves shallow and political.
That is to say that this story about the inner life of a suburban housewife, written by a woman, fails the Bechtel test (credits to Ceridwen and Sock Puppet for bringing that wonderful invention to my notice). And I get that sex is the point of the story, but even in the lesbian adolescence scene, Blume describes one girl as the man and one as the woman, clear that the conduct is about preparing for later heterosexual sex, not about the relationship between the two girls. Then, the description quickly jumps to Sandy’s uncle feeling up his sister-in-law.
And I guess I’m making these criticisms because I don’t think it’s fair to compare this book to bodice rippers or paranormal romance. This book is not silly by any stretch of the imagination. It is not about sunsets and dragons and symbolical fantasy. It is about reality and real fantasy. So, it fails. It’s not true. Sandy’s inner reality is garbage, just like her outer reality. I do not believe that an experience between two adolescent girls lying naked in a bed would contain as little intimacy or feeling as Blume describes. I’m not saying that Blume is lying, I’m just saying that her writing here is as cowardly as Sandy. And I think when women do the zombie act, it’s just that – an act. On some level, I’ll accept that it is a coping mechanism, but it is not real. Maybe it is just my paranoia, but I think feminine cowardice is a lot more sinister than it looks. It is a passive-aggressive version of ambition.
At its best, this book has the atmosphere of Romeo and Juliet - some morons trying to work out their feelings, while the world crumbles around them. At its worst, this book is Eat Pray Love’s mom – trying to show that women aren’t idiots by working with the premise that women are children. After all, who protests the most about not being children? Children. Ultimately, even if you look past all the garbage of Sandy’s fantasies and shallow turmoil, this book still commits the ultimate sin. It is boring.
Also, all the food they eat is really gross.
December 14, 2022
Well that was disgusting in a way I am simply not prepared to deal with today or any other day.
Edit: I still can't bring myself to review this though I'm essentially doing that in the comments. Here's a newish intro Blume wrote for the book in 2004 that at least partially explains what in the hell she was thinking about. It strikes me that this isn't at all dissimilar to J.K. Rowling's The Casual Vacancy, a book that she threw like a grenade at her fans as if daring us all to ever say anything to her about wizards ever again.
I can kind of picture Judy Blume, who did continue to write mildly creepy children's fiction and several other books from grown ups after this one, practically screaming inside because she just can't write another Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing and her marriage is a nightmare and she doesn't know what she wants from like anymore and this all just comes pouring out.
See what you think: https://judyblume.com/reference-desk/...
Edit: I still can't bring myself to review this though I'm essentially doing that in the comments. Here's a newish intro Blume wrote for the book in 2004 that at least partially explains what in the hell she was thinking about. It strikes me that this isn't at all dissimilar to J.K. Rowling's The Casual Vacancy, a book that she threw like a grenade at her fans as if daring us all to ever say anything to her about wizards ever again.
I can kind of picture Judy Blume, who did continue to write mildly creepy children's fiction and several other books from grown ups after this one, practically screaming inside because she just can't write another Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing and her marriage is a nightmare and she doesn't know what she wants from like anymore and this all just comes pouring out.
See what you think: https://judyblume.com/reference-desk/...
July 26, 2010
While I was reading this book, I started indulging in little fantasies. Mine were a bit different from the protagonist, Sandy's, whose bad-porn-like daydreams (fucking the plumber! classic!) are her only escape from her stultifying marriage to New Jersey dry cleaning magnate Norman Pressman. (Ooh, sneaky pun there, Judy.) For example:
Sandy was staring out the window when Norman came back from walking the dog. "He did three sticks...or maybe four. I don't remember."
"Norman, are you feeling all right?"
"Yes. No. There was a suspicious character lurking at the end of the block. He tried to... I didn't get a very good look at him. He was probably a ductla. It'll all be better when we move to the new house."
"Maybe you should go to bed."
"All right... Maybe we both should."
"I don't have my diaphragm in."
"Come on, San. I'm feeling it. Are you feeling it?" With a sudden movement, he pressed his face against her neck. Sandy threw her mind back to the Rambler with Shep. "You smell so good, San," Norman said, nuzzling her. His forehead was slick with sweat. In the doorway, Banushka started growling.
Sandy tried to squirm away. "At least let me put in my diaphragm."
"I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR FUCKING DIAPHRAGM." Norman stared up at her, his eyes wild and red. His mouth was open in a snarl.
Sandy shrieked and stumbled back. His fingernails were digging into her wrist. Sandy grabbed onto the nightstand and tugged her arm free. Norman was still advancing, snarling and hissing, but his movements seemed drunken, uncoordinated. Great strings of spittle dripped down his chin, along with something viscous and black.
When he lunged at her, Sandy didn't think, but simply grabbed the can of Lysol and sprayed him full in the face.
Norman collapsed on the floor, howling like an animal. Sandy vaulted past him into the next room. She couldn't decide what to do. Call the police? Somehow this seemed a little above Officer Hubanski's pay grade.
She was still hesitating by the phone when Norman lurched into the living room. His posture was hunched, his arms hanging down like an ape's. His eyes were bloodshot and wild. Sandy sucked in a shaky breath. Nothing her mother had told her had prepared her for this. Still, she knew what she had to do.
When Norman launched himself at her, Sandy grabbed a 9-iron out of her lemon yellow golf bag and swung it at his head with all her might.
A few seconds later, Norman was lying dead on the floor, and Sandy was standing over him, his blood and brain matter decorating her blouse.
Just like Jackie Kennedy, she thought.
Yeah, so. My imagination's a bit more...violent than Sandy's. Possibly I should talk to someone about that.
In all seriousness, though: I liked this book. It was tart and sharp and realistic—painfully so. I liked that Blume never inserted herself (heh) into the narrative: the whole book takes place in Sandy's (half-)brain, so we never get the relief of leaving her narrow world to a place where we might look down upon it and make smug authorial or readerly judgments. It's suffocating being stuck with Sandy in 1970 New Jersey, in that awful "first" home with Norman. I was seriously longing for some zombie mayhem by the end, or even just a plain, old-fashioned knee applied to Norman's tiny, old-fashioned balls. You know if someone like Nora Ephron made this book into a movie, Sandy would kick Norman to the curb at the end, steal Shep's Porsche, and drive off into the sunset with the top down while "I'm Every Woman" or something blasted from the speakers. But Blume's got a lot more restraint. The novel she's written is frustrating, but I think that's entirely the point. This whole book is a stifled scream.
Sandy was staring out the window when Norman came back from walking the dog. "He did three sticks...or maybe four. I don't remember."
"Norman, are you feeling all right?"
"Yes. No. There was a suspicious character lurking at the end of the block. He tried to... I didn't get a very good look at him. He was probably a ductla. It'll all be better when we move to the new house."
"Maybe you should go to bed."
"All right... Maybe we both should."
"I don't have my diaphragm in."
"Come on, San. I'm feeling it. Are you feeling it?" With a sudden movement, he pressed his face against her neck. Sandy threw her mind back to the Rambler with Shep. "You smell so good, San," Norman said, nuzzling her. His forehead was slick with sweat. In the doorway, Banushka started growling.
Sandy tried to squirm away. "At least let me put in my diaphragm."
"I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR FUCKING DIAPHRAGM." Norman stared up at her, his eyes wild and red. His mouth was open in a snarl.
Sandy shrieked and stumbled back. His fingernails were digging into her wrist. Sandy grabbed onto the nightstand and tugged her arm free. Norman was still advancing, snarling and hissing, but his movements seemed drunken, uncoordinated. Great strings of spittle dripped down his chin, along with something viscous and black.
When he lunged at her, Sandy didn't think, but simply grabbed the can of Lysol and sprayed him full in the face.
Norman collapsed on the floor, howling like an animal. Sandy vaulted past him into the next room. She couldn't decide what to do. Call the police? Somehow this seemed a little above Officer Hubanski's pay grade.
She was still hesitating by the phone when Norman lurched into the living room. His posture was hunched, his arms hanging down like an ape's. His eyes were bloodshot and wild. Sandy sucked in a shaky breath. Nothing her mother had told her had prepared her for this. Still, she knew what she had to do.
When Norman launched himself at her, Sandy grabbed a 9-iron out of her lemon yellow golf bag and swung it at his head with all her might.
A few seconds later, Norman was lying dead on the floor, and Sandy was standing over him, his blood and brain matter decorating her blouse.
Just like Jackie Kennedy, she thought.
Yeah, so. My imagination's a bit more...violent than Sandy's. Possibly I should talk to someone about that.
In all seriousness, though: I liked this book. It was tart and sharp and realistic—painfully so. I liked that Blume never inserted herself (heh) into the narrative: the whole book takes place in Sandy's (half-)brain, so we never get the relief of leaving her narrow world to a place where we might look down upon it and make smug authorial or readerly judgments. It's suffocating being stuck with Sandy in 1970 New Jersey, in that awful "first" home with Norman. I was seriously longing for some zombie mayhem by the end, or even just a plain, old-fashioned knee applied to Norman's tiny, old-fashioned balls. You know if someone like Nora Ephron made this book into a movie, Sandy would kick Norman to the curb at the end, steal Shep's Porsche, and drive off into the sunset with the top down while "I'm Every Woman" or something blasted from the speakers. But Blume's got a lot more restraint. The novel she's written is frustrating, but I think that's entirely the point. This whole book is a stifled scream.
August 25, 2017
Oh, sweet heaven baby crocus, where do I start? Well, let's start here. I'm not really leaving anything on the table for this one, so buyer beware. I'm going to spoil this good.
I finished this book this afternoon and disappointed to say the least. My hunch is that this book had it's heyday when it was released and wasn't meant to really stand the test of time.
Sandy Pressman is a wife and a mother of two, circa 1970. The expectations of her life is what you'd expect of white suburbia at this time - and she's fulfilled those expectations. She married a solidly employed guy, they had a couple of kids, they live in a 3 bedroom, she has a dinner schedule. Pot Roast on Thursdays, don't forget.
Sandy is discontent, to say the least. The source of her discontent seems to be her husband, Norman, who fills a specific role in their relationship and nothing more. He's the provider. Sandy may want more from her life but it isn't until a strange morning visitor on her lawn performs a lewd act that she is snapped out of haze of discontent. . This one event seems to be the catalyst to the answer that Sandy didn't know she was looking for - what she needs more of, seemingly, is sex.
Here's where it starts...and for me, where it ends. We aren't a chapter into this book and I'm just certain that what we'll find that what Sandy really needs is an emotional connection, and that we'll wade through a story - perhaps a lurid story, I'm never really afraid of those - of someone who may or may not find what they're looking for.
This is not that story. I'm not actually sure what this story was and quite frankly wondering if I'm just too stupid to get it because I'm in the minority on this one - people may not love it, but they have found value in it. As for me, I found this to be a colossal waste of time. So much so, that I'd like to rant about it for a minute.
Sandy, after being shocked by the act on her lawn and the fact that she saw another mans erection that's not her husband, starts spiraling into fantasy land. Sometimes she just carries these sexual fantasies through to their conclusions in her head, sometimes the real life encounters that she falls into are less than fantastical. I think those are supposed to be funny, but they're anything but humorous to me.
First, there is the encounter with her drunken brother-in-law who is perhaps feeling a little insecure about his life with his wife, her sister. She resists his advances at a wild party at first, but basically capitulates when she realizes that she is indeed a little turned on despite the fact that she's not really attracted to her brother-in-law, and really, he was not really paying attention to her half-hearted protests and it also feels so good, so why not? Before she really had a chance to figure out all the consequences for herself, it felt so good that she was having a such a good time that she finds herself laughing toward the end...only to find that her brother-in-law is immediately sobbing and remorseful.
And so it goes. Here's my problem with this and a couple other fantasy scenes carried through. There is only the act. There is not a moment of attraction, there's not a moment of thought about what she wants or what the ramifications are, or even what would follow, there is no emotion or realization about what she's missing in her life - Sandy basically gives up any power as a character when she can't think past the part that feels good - and it's so incredibly frustrating because she actually has a regular sex life with her husband, one in which she finds completion, even if she finds it boring and emotionless. What's my point here? My point is that this isn't a character who gets caught up in the moment experiencing things in her life that she didn't think previously possible, this is someone who is displaying weak moral character with a side of complete lack of judgement. Even though she hates that she's called emotionally immature in her own story, she s indeed, emotionally immature.
Could this be forgiven? Sure! If she found a semblance of emotional growth in the rest of the story. But instead, it goes down like this:. Sandy screws her brother-in-law, fantasizes about screwing a plumber and cabana boy, meets a friends husband for dinner and an X-rated movie with bonus time afterword (he can't keep an erection however, and this too is supposed to be funny (?)...but I just can't get past the part where she, once again, falls into a situation where she protests and quickly submits after a nudge or two), is propositioned by a married man and a kid caddy (seriously, she's suddenly the most desirable woman in the tri-state area) and finally starts a real affair with an old fling, who is also married with children, and expects this lightening relationship to a turn into a real commitment. For the first time, she experiences tenderness and cuddling in the afterglow, and isn't it swell.
When that doesn't work out for every reason that you knew it wouldn't, (he loves his wife, can't abandon his family, why can't they just have this relationship on the side?), she realizes her kids don't need her like they once did, she has no place in her husbands interests of golf and tennis and pushy attempts and getting her to fit in at his country club, AND she finds out she has somehow contracted gonorrhea. That last was probably the fault of that married schlep who showed her tenderness, he spent a lot of time tenderizing other women before her, I gather.
At this point, Sandy considers suicide. I suppose this is where I should be sympathetic, but I really HATE everyone in this book by now and can gather no sympathy. I hate that Sandy is stupid, that she betrayed her sister, that she can't figure out a healthy way out of her life, that she can't find a hobby, that she lives in fear and is a victim while knowingly hurts her husband. I hate that her husband is a jerk, that he ignores her few cries for help, that he does hit her when he finds out about her infidelity.
But most of all, I hate how this book was handled. I don't like how everyone is emotionless robot about real issues and at the last minute, Blume throws in a twist with a secret good deed of Norman's in an attempt to show that he does have feelings which brings Sandy and Norman into a space where they can talk I hate that this book is full of unaddressed racism, handled as casually as dinner conversation. I hate that if this is book about women being stuck in their choices, why Sandy and Norm stay together, but Sandy doesn't have an ounce of remorse for her actions and seems to stay because there is no other choice.
In the introduction, Judy Blume explains that she left her marriage and took her two kids away and sat down after being a best selling children's author and wrote this book. While she says that this story isn't a representation of her own story, I have to wonder what the purpose of this particular book is - it oozes bitterness, discontent and not a single sound choice. It seems odd to me that the woman who made a way for herself to leave an unhappy place would write a book with such a desolate conclusion.
In the end, Sandy does not find contentment, she finds a sort of compromise about what Norman is willing to do in their sex life. Yuck. *shakes off frustration*
I finished this book this afternoon and disappointed to say the least. My hunch is that this book had it's heyday when it was released and wasn't meant to really stand the test of time.
Sandy Pressman is a wife and a mother of two, circa 1970. The expectations of her life is what you'd expect of white suburbia at this time - and she's fulfilled those expectations. She married a solidly employed guy, they had a couple of kids, they live in a 3 bedroom, she has a dinner schedule. Pot Roast on Thursdays, don't forget.
Sandy is discontent, to say the least. The source of her discontent seems to be her husband, Norman, who fills a specific role in their relationship and nothing more. He's the provider. Sandy may want more from her life but it isn't until a strange morning visitor on her lawn performs a lewd act that she is snapped out of haze of discontent. . This one event seems to be the catalyst to the answer that Sandy didn't know she was looking for - what she needs more of, seemingly, is sex.
Here's where it starts...and for me, where it ends. We aren't a chapter into this book and I'm just certain that what we'll find that what Sandy really needs is an emotional connection, and that we'll wade through a story - perhaps a lurid story, I'm never really afraid of those - of someone who may or may not find what they're looking for.
This is not that story. I'm not actually sure what this story was and quite frankly wondering if I'm just too stupid to get it because I'm in the minority on this one - people may not love it, but they have found value in it. As for me, I found this to be a colossal waste of time. So much so, that I'd like to rant about it for a minute.
Sandy, after being shocked by the act on her lawn and the fact that she saw another mans erection that's not her husband, starts spiraling into fantasy land. Sometimes she just carries these sexual fantasies through to their conclusions in her head, sometimes the real life encounters that she falls into are less than fantastical. I think those are supposed to be funny, but they're anything but humorous to me.
First, there is the encounter with her drunken brother-in-law who is perhaps feeling a little insecure about his life with his wife, her sister. She resists his advances at a wild party at first, but basically capitulates when she realizes that she is indeed a little turned on despite the fact that she's not really attracted to her brother-in-law, and really, he was not really paying attention to her half-hearted protests and it also feels so good, so why not? Before she really had a chance to figure out all the consequences for herself, it felt so good that she was having a such a good time that she finds herself laughing toward the end...only to find that her brother-in-law is immediately sobbing and remorseful.
And so it goes. Here's my problem with this and a couple other fantasy scenes carried through. There is only the act. There is not a moment of attraction, there's not a moment of thought about what she wants or what the ramifications are, or even what would follow, there is no emotion or realization about what she's missing in her life - Sandy basically gives up any power as a character when she can't think past the part that feels good - and it's so incredibly frustrating because she actually has a regular sex life with her husband, one in which she finds completion, even if she finds it boring and emotionless. What's my point here? My point is that this isn't a character who gets caught up in the moment experiencing things in her life that she didn't think previously possible, this is someone who is displaying weak moral character with a side of complete lack of judgement. Even though she hates that she's called emotionally immature in her own story, she s indeed, emotionally immature.
Could this be forgiven? Sure! If she found a semblance of emotional growth in the rest of the story. But instead, it goes down like this:. Sandy screws her brother-in-law, fantasizes about screwing a plumber and cabana boy, meets a friends husband for dinner and an X-rated movie with bonus time afterword (he can't keep an erection however, and this too is supposed to be funny (?)...but I just can't get past the part where she, once again, falls into a situation where she protests and quickly submits after a nudge or two), is propositioned by a married man and a kid caddy (seriously, she's suddenly the most desirable woman in the tri-state area) and finally starts a real affair with an old fling, who is also married with children, and expects this lightening relationship to a turn into a real commitment. For the first time, she experiences tenderness and cuddling in the afterglow, and isn't it swell.
When that doesn't work out for every reason that you knew it wouldn't, (he loves his wife, can't abandon his family, why can't they just have this relationship on the side?), she realizes her kids don't need her like they once did, she has no place in her husbands interests of golf and tennis and pushy attempts and getting her to fit in at his country club, AND she finds out she has somehow contracted gonorrhea. That last was probably the fault of that married schlep who showed her tenderness, he spent a lot of time tenderizing other women before her, I gather.
At this point, Sandy considers suicide. I suppose this is where I should be sympathetic, but I really HATE everyone in this book by now and can gather no sympathy. I hate that Sandy is stupid, that she betrayed her sister, that she can't figure out a healthy way out of her life, that she can't find a hobby, that she lives in fear and is a victim while knowingly hurts her husband. I hate that her husband is a jerk, that he ignores her few cries for help, that he does hit her when he finds out about her infidelity.
But most of all, I hate how this book was handled. I don't like how everyone is emotionless robot about real issues and at the last minute, Blume throws in a twist with a secret good deed of Norman's in an attempt to show that he does have feelings which brings Sandy and Norman into a space where they can talk I hate that this book is full of unaddressed racism, handled as casually as dinner conversation. I hate that if this is book about women being stuck in their choices, why Sandy and Norm stay together, but Sandy doesn't have an ounce of remorse for her actions and seems to stay because there is no other choice.
In the introduction, Judy Blume explains that she left her marriage and took her two kids away and sat down after being a best selling children's author and wrote this book. While she says that this story isn't a representation of her own story, I have to wonder what the purpose of this particular book is - it oozes bitterness, discontent and not a single sound choice. It seems odd to me that the woman who made a way for herself to leave an unhappy place would write a book with such a desolate conclusion.
In the end, Sandy does not find contentment, she finds a sort of compromise about what Norman is willing to do in their sex life. Yuck. *shakes off frustration*
August 10, 2015
an adult novel by judy blume indeed. did you write tales of a fourth grade nothing with that typewriter, judy? damn! this 1978 story of a bored new jersey housewife was mostly depressing, though that's probably the point. as a novel for grown-ups, this book has more sex and awkwardly racist characters, sure, but judy b. definitely has a lot more heart to her novels when she's writing for kids and teens. i mean, margaret grew up in suburban new jersey too and she--and her parents--had a lot more going on as characters than sandy and norman and their family and friends could ever dream of. alas.
May 25, 2007
Wifey tries hard to be The Awakening. It tries and it fails. Where The Awakening had a somewhat sympathetic protagonist, Wifey's main protagonist is just annoying and dare I say it, ignorant. Where in The Awkening Edna came off as being a mature, insightful character, Wifey's Sandy, in contrast, seems more like a never-satisfied child.
It is impossible to feel for Sandy or have any type of sympathy for this character at all. Throughout the book, Sandy comes across as being completely wrong. Holden Caufield from The Catcher in the Rye has a similar predicament in characterization, but with one saving grace: Holden is meant to be wrong, the reader is meant to realize Holden is wrong, and before the end, he's called out as being wrong; and because of this flaw, we find a connection to ourselves underneath his elitist attitude. In Sandy's case, even if we are to realize that she is wrong, everyone who calls her wrong is more wrong and messed up than she is.
Yes, maybe that's how Blume wanted Sandy to come off. Maybe this is exactly what Blume was trying to show. If so then fine, immature characters are throughout literature. But normally they are sectioned off as side characters, not as figures whom the audience must feel for.
It is impossible to feel for Sandy or have any type of sympathy for this character at all. Throughout the book, Sandy comes across as being completely wrong. Holden Caufield from The Catcher in the Rye has a similar predicament in characterization, but with one saving grace: Holden is meant to be wrong, the reader is meant to realize Holden is wrong, and before the end, he's called out as being wrong; and because of this flaw, we find a connection to ourselves underneath his elitist attitude. In Sandy's case, even if we are to realize that she is wrong, everyone who calls her wrong is more wrong and messed up than she is.
Yes, maybe that's how Blume wanted Sandy to come off. Maybe this is exactly what Blume was trying to show. If so then fine, immature characters are throughout literature. But normally they are sectioned off as side characters, not as figures whom the audience must feel for.
May 28, 2012
A 1970s suburban housewife's sexual awakening while her kids are away at summer camp.
Everyone in my office is talking about 50 Shades of Grey. There is literally at least a half-hour conversation about it every day. I have been on the hold list for our e-book copy for months at this point, having been number three hundred something when I first joined. One of my coworkers was absolutely aghast that I would even think of reading it without first reading this Judy Blume classic. (Particularly since I have an 11 x 14 sized poster of Judy next to my desk and whenever I'm feeling particularly down or stressed out, I turn to it for guidance. Don't all librarian do that?)
Judy B is one of my absolute idols and I adored reading this, mostly because it made me blush a million shades of red on the PATH. And then came into the office, gave an arched eyebrow to that poster and said, "JUDY!" It was a nicely timed read alongside this week's Mad Men, although my notes are from three weeks old at this point and I can't remember which particular episode that is.
The real kicker of reading this is finding out that Natasha hadn't read Are You There God, It's Me Margaret, which is basically Wifey for fifth graders! Get on that!
Everyone in my office is talking about 50 Shades of Grey. There is literally at least a half-hour conversation about it every day. I have been on the hold list for our e-book copy for months at this point, having been number three hundred something when I first joined. One of my coworkers was absolutely aghast that I would even think of reading it without first reading this Judy Blume classic. (Particularly since I have an 11 x 14 sized poster of Judy next to my desk and whenever I'm feeling particularly down or stressed out, I turn to it for guidance. Don't all librarian do that?)
Judy B is one of my absolute idols and I adored reading this, mostly because it made me blush a million shades of red on the PATH. And then came into the office, gave an arched eyebrow to that poster and said, "JUDY!" It was a nicely timed read alongside this week's Mad Men, although my notes are from three weeks old at this point and I can't remember which particular episode that is.
The real kicker of reading this is finding out that Natasha hadn't read Are You There God, It's Me Margaret, which is basically Wifey for fifth graders! Get on that!
February 7, 2012
Oh holy crap. Wow. That was pretty great. This is as close to a romance novel as I will ever get even though it was pretty spectacular. Was this really what 1970 was like? You're 33 and married with two kids and dudes from all over want to bone you? You get obscene phone calls and every guy you meet wants to "do it" (italics original) with you? Will that happen to me when I'm 33? It sure isn't happening now. Is it just because everyone was a swinger then?
The great thing about Judy Blume is that she is dramatic but fair. Her books for kids, young adults and adults (dirty, filthy minded home-making adults) are a little exaggerated (unless this is seriously what it's like once you hit your near mid thirties) but never end in a totally wrapped up package. Protagonists learn lessons but don't get off easy (I thought about it and the pun is not intended, but what would Freud say?). Sandy is in a crappy marriage with a dude she doesn't love or even really KNOW, she has 3 affairs in just a few months one of which gives her GONORRHEA, and then when she tells her crappy husband about it he slaps her and she hides in the attic for a night and all this culminates in them a) deciding to get to know each other and themselves (HOW 1970s!!!) and b) reaching a super sweet compromise in which she shaves her pubic hair & he attempts again to go down on her (this time without dry heaving for half an hour!).
The book is hilarious but it gets depressing when you relate to Sandy. This woman hardly makes decisions for herself and when she does she gets the clap! Don't you ever feel like that? It's like an explicit version of something that would happen to Marge Simpson! Like, you decide to stand up for yourself but it doesn't go well. At all.
The great thing about Judy Blume is that she is dramatic but fair. Her books for kids, young adults and adults (dirty, filthy minded home-making adults) are a little exaggerated (unless this is seriously what it's like once you hit your near mid thirties) but never end in a totally wrapped up package. Protagonists learn lessons but don't get off easy (I thought about it and the pun is not intended, but what would Freud say?). Sandy is in a crappy marriage with a dude she doesn't love or even really KNOW, she has 3 affairs in just a few months one of which gives her GONORRHEA, and then when she tells her crappy husband about it he slaps her and she hides in the attic for a night and all this culminates in them a) deciding to get to know each other and themselves (HOW 1970s!!!) and b) reaching a super sweet compromise in which she shaves her pubic hair & he attempts again to go down on her (this time without dry heaving for half an hour!).
The book is hilarious but it gets depressing when you relate to Sandy. This woman hardly makes decisions for herself and when she does she gets the clap! Don't you ever feel like that? It's like an explicit version of something that would happen to Marge Simpson! Like, you decide to stand up for yourself but it doesn't go well. At all.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 11, 2014
I was feeling a bit of nostalgia when I picked this one up. I read this when I was 12-13 and the only thing I could remember was the motorcyclist who jacks-off in her back yard. I was hoping reading it as an adult would resonate more than when I was a child. I can't say that it did.
It was hard to relate to the time period and their upper-middle class world. Wifey was raised to believe that to be a good wife you had to: "Make his interests your interests. Make his friends, your friends. When he's in the mood, you're in the mood. Dress to please him. Cook to please him. What else matters? A happy husband is the answer to a happy life."
I know this was a different time, but can you imagine being taught this?
This book was written in 1978 and I thought it would have more rebellion. I thought Wifey would be busting out of the cage so to speak. Not so much. I wanted way more.
I give it three stars because it was very readable and I grew up loving Judy Blume.
It was hard to relate to the time period and their upper-middle class world. Wifey was raised to believe that to be a good wife you had to: "Make his interests your interests. Make his friends, your friends. When he's in the mood, you're in the mood. Dress to please him. Cook to please him. What else matters? A happy husband is the answer to a happy life."
I know this was a different time, but can you imagine being taught this?
This book was written in 1978 and I thought it would have more rebellion. I thought Wifey would be busting out of the cage so to speak. Not so much. I wanted way more.
I give it three stars because it was very readable and I grew up loving Judy Blume.
January 5, 2009
I was curious about Wifey as I had read & enjoyed her YA (young adult) novels several decades ago when I was a teenager. Reading Wifey today, I have to say this book is not particularly memorable.
The blurb "Over 3 million copies sold" on the cover makes one wonder why it would sell in those numbers. It's my guess that back in 1978 when the novel came out, the story of a sexually & emotionally frustrated suburban housewife introduced to us on page one as a woman stirred to action by the sight of a naked man pleasuring himself outside her window was more likely to cause a sensation amongst the female reading public than in today's Sex and the City-satiated times.
Overall the novel is lightweight and superficial, and a far cry from the complexity of Erica Jong's 1973 ground-breaking "Fear of Flying." Sandy the 31-year-old protagonist is described by her husband as possessing half a brain, and sometimes it feels as if Wifey is written for a younger (than Sandy) audience, or for women who fit Sandy's IQ description. That's what bothered me in the end; Wifey doesn't challenge the reader in any intelligent way. The situations come off as formulaic and Sandy is quite stereotypical in her marital malaise.
I also got the impression that J. Blume is trying to play both sides of the fence, delivering the goods to readers expecting a modicum of titillation, and at the same time avoiding the complexity of Jong's writings & other texts coming out of the women's lib movement during that decade.
After saying all this, there is a part of me that wonders if I'm being too criticial of Blume's writing, in the light of her committment to stand up against censorship.
The blurb "Over 3 million copies sold" on the cover makes one wonder why it would sell in those numbers. It's my guess that back in 1978 when the novel came out, the story of a sexually & emotionally frustrated suburban housewife introduced to us on page one as a woman stirred to action by the sight of a naked man pleasuring himself outside her window was more likely to cause a sensation amongst the female reading public than in today's Sex and the City-satiated times.
Overall the novel is lightweight and superficial, and a far cry from the complexity of Erica Jong's 1973 ground-breaking "Fear of Flying." Sandy the 31-year-old protagonist is described by her husband as possessing half a brain, and sometimes it feels as if Wifey is written for a younger (than Sandy) audience, or for women who fit Sandy's IQ description. That's what bothered me in the end; Wifey doesn't challenge the reader in any intelligent way. The situations come off as formulaic and Sandy is quite stereotypical in her marital malaise.
I also got the impression that J. Blume is trying to play both sides of the fence, delivering the goods to readers expecting a modicum of titillation, and at the same time avoiding the complexity of Jong's writings & other texts coming out of the women's lib movement during that decade.
After saying all this, there is a part of me that wonders if I'm being too criticial of Blume's writing, in the light of her committment to stand up against censorship.
March 13, 2024
Oh wow. So many three's and two's!
I read Wifey back in the day. (I read EVERYTHING from Blume because she;s an amazing writer. )
This was a fine book. Smutty? Sure but you know that from page one (literally) so you can decide pretty quickly whether it's for you or not.
Sandy is not the most -- well -- LIKEABLE or well adjusted wifey around but one also has to consider the time period of the book.
And despite all her mistakes and foibles I did grow to like her a lot.
Noman, not so much. I think if I could change one thing about Wifey it would be:
SPOILER:
The slap. Maybe times really were that different way back when. But that did shock me even as a kid, and definetly did not see that coming.
Given that one out of every two marriages ends in divorce, I think this was a refreshing look at a quite dysfunctional marriage. Sandy struck me as feeling aimless. pointless, having no clear sense of purpose.
Shep -- one could see him coming (literally) from a mile away. But he was also the quintessential bad boy and who has NOT been drawn to a bad boy or girl or man or woman at some point?
All in all, Wifey is far form my personal favorite of Blume's...but I did like it and even reread as recent as a year or two ago.
It isn't for everybody but I'd classify it more as an adult book than a kid's and given that most of her books are YA, that's a treat. I'd kind of like it if a follow up had ever been made.
I read Wifey back in the day. (I read EVERYTHING from Blume because she;s an amazing writer. )
This was a fine book. Smutty? Sure but you know that from page one (literally) so you can decide pretty quickly whether it's for you or not.
Sandy is not the most -- well -- LIKEABLE or well adjusted wifey around but one also has to consider the time period of the book.
And despite all her mistakes and foibles I did grow to like her a lot.
Noman, not so much. I think if I could change one thing about Wifey it would be:
SPOILER:
The slap. Maybe times really were that different way back when. But that did shock me even as a kid, and definetly did not see that coming.
Given that one out of every two marriages ends in divorce, I think this was a refreshing look at a quite dysfunctional marriage. Sandy struck me as feeling aimless. pointless, having no clear sense of purpose.
Shep -- one could see him coming (literally) from a mile away. But he was also the quintessential bad boy and who has NOT been drawn to a bad boy or girl or man or woman at some point?
All in all, Wifey is far form my personal favorite of Blume's...but I did like it and even reread as recent as a year or two ago.
It isn't for everybody but I'd classify it more as an adult book than a kid's and given that most of her books are YA, that's a treat. I'd kind of like it if a follow up had ever been made.
March 29, 2015
You won't enjoy this one if you don't take it as a form of humor, and you have to remember that not much is really going to happen action wise. Like most of Blumes stuff it's completely character-focused rather than plot-filled. Sandy is a likeable character and funny...I think I would read and enjoy ANY book Blume wrote because I just dig her style that much. This one was a light, demented read. I have to be clear it wasn't a masterpiece like most of her younger stuff.
Her husband is a nagging, controlling bore, although probably less than than her guilt-trip inducing mother and sister. Everywhere she turns she's controlled and it's frustrating, especially at the end when you see that's just the way it is, and was, for women of the times then. Despite a dirty mind and spiraling libido, sex is limited. When it's shown it's usually for an emotional reason ---- you enter an encounter where it looks as if it's just for kicks, but then turns into an emotionally overwhelmed man needing a sympathetic ear. At first it seems like the book was a cute, funny horndog fest, but it became clear after awhile it showed how much emptiness was really inside the character.
Her husband is a nagging, controlling bore, although probably less than than her guilt-trip inducing mother and sister. Everywhere she turns she's controlled and it's frustrating, especially at the end when you see that's just the way it is, and was, for women of the times then. Despite a dirty mind and spiraling libido, sex is limited. When it's shown it's usually for an emotional reason ---- you enter an encounter where it looks as if it's just for kicks, but then turns into an emotionally overwhelmed man needing a sympathetic ear. At first it seems like the book was a cute, funny horndog fest, but it became clear after awhile it showed how much emptiness was really inside the character.
September 18, 2019
I don't know how I managed to get through this book -I have read straight porn that had more of a story than this book did.
I get that this takes place during the Women's Lib era, but this had nothing to do with women's lib and everything to do with seeing Sandy get her ya-ya's on.
She's bored so she cheats -and let me tell Sandy getting Gonorrhea was perfect!
Don't bother with this book- I can name at least 3 or more books and some that are true classic's that could get this point across and not leave you gagging or wishing you could go back in time and make a better choice.
I get that this takes place during the Women's Lib era, but this had nothing to do with women's lib and everything to do with seeing Sandy get her ya-ya's on.
She's bored so she cheats -and let me tell Sandy getting Gonorrhea was perfect!
Don't bother with this book- I can name at least 3 or more books and some that are true classic's that could get this point across and not leave you gagging or wishing you could go back in time and make a better choice.
December 15, 2009
Plot Summary: Sandy Pressman is the wife of Norman, a successful but dull businessman, has two children and after 12 years of marriage, is utterly bored with her 1970's New Jersey suburban housewife role. She idolizes Jackie Kennedy, has fantasies about the guy who drives by on a motorcycle and wonders what ever happened to her exciting high school boyfriend, Shep.
When her kids are away at summer camp she decides to explore the possibilities for an extra-marital affair. She starts by looking up her friend in New York with an open marriage, has an unexpected encounter with her brother-in-law, and eventually reunites with Shep, who is interested in going further than they did in high school. Sandy starts to get confused about what she wants and then discovers evidence that maybe Norman has been having a long term affair.
I first read this book several years ago but recently read it again. When I picked it up off the shelf at Barnes and Noble, I had no idea when this book was written. I had no idea that Judy Blume had been writing adult novels for years. I was instantly intrigued as I loved many of her books from my childhood. But this is no children's book! When I read it, around 2004 I think, the language and subjects were quite shocking! Now imagine reading this in the 70's when it was first published! There are many swear words, sexual fantasies and interludes and other adult themes. If I had discovered this book when I was younger, who knows what I might have learned! So, keep this book out of reach of children and even teens. I wouldn't suggest this book for anyone younger than 18 and only because by then they are legally an adult and can go to war so I guess they could handle it.
I found that the plot was boring, but I think that is the point. Sandy is bored. She's unhappy in her marriage and so she just goes about life while nothing happens to her. There is a plot and a pretty good one at that, but it is slow getting to the point. This book is pretty short read and you could read it in a weekend if you were diligent. I recommended the book for my book club and the others didn't quite agree with my review of it...but hey, what can I say, I like a good dirty book.
When her kids are away at summer camp she decides to explore the possibilities for an extra-marital affair. She starts by looking up her friend in New York with an open marriage, has an unexpected encounter with her brother-in-law, and eventually reunites with Shep, who is interested in going further than they did in high school. Sandy starts to get confused about what she wants and then discovers evidence that maybe Norman has been having a long term affair.
I first read this book several years ago but recently read it again. When I picked it up off the shelf at Barnes and Noble, I had no idea when this book was written. I had no idea that Judy Blume had been writing adult novels for years. I was instantly intrigued as I loved many of her books from my childhood. But this is no children's book! When I read it, around 2004 I think, the language and subjects were quite shocking! Now imagine reading this in the 70's when it was first published! There are many swear words, sexual fantasies and interludes and other adult themes. If I had discovered this book when I was younger, who knows what I might have learned! So, keep this book out of reach of children and even teens. I wouldn't suggest this book for anyone younger than 18 and only because by then they are legally an adult and can go to war so I guess they could handle it.
I found that the plot was boring, but I think that is the point. Sandy is bored. She's unhappy in her marriage and so she just goes about life while nothing happens to her. There is a plot and a pretty good one at that, but it is slow getting to the point. This book is pretty short read and you could read it in a weekend if you were diligent. I recommended the book for my book club and the others didn't quite agree with my review of it...but hey, what can I say, I like a good dirty book.
October 18, 2008
Maybe I'm being unfair. My thoughts on this book are irretrievably bound up with the time period I read it in. Although it had been out for several years, my friends and I discovered in 8th or 9th grade that Judy Blume had a "new" book written for adults that was said to be dirty dirty DIRTY. I can still remember my friend Carla breathlessly reading aloud from the back of the library book about how the title character grew tired of "chicken on Wednesdays and sex on Saturdays." I grew up on a diet of Blubber and Margaret and Sheila and Peter Hatcher. And I'd discovered Forever by that time and loved it as well. But I was NOT prepared for the distinctly unsexy sex in this tale of ultra-annoying suburban ennui nor the tale of how the title character has an affair with her brother-in-law who is also...her gynecologist? Oh, ewwww. No one is likable, no one is relatable and to have this novel linked to the social shock waves from women's liberation just depresses me. There are far better books to chose from about late 60's/early 70's middle class doldrums and culture war casualties.
Sorry Judy. I still love you.
Sorry Judy. I still love you.
February 10, 2008
Erica Jong for teenagers. I read this when I was in high school. The woman who told me about periods and wet dreams now told me about...Flashing! Masturbating on someone's lawn! Fucking! Multiple partners!! Including one's in-law!!! And extramarital affairs! All in one book!
Tame for an adult, but it had some great imagery that stuck with me. The book begins with a masked man in a cape riding a motorcycle into Wifey's backyard, tossing up his cape, and...well, tossing off, leaving his "stuff" on her manicured lawn. During a sexual encounter, Wifey lays there and describes a " cock dancing inside me." She liked it. I also seem to recall her masturbating while she was in traffic and giving head to someone, but that could be another book.
I don't mean to make it sound like it's all about sex. Wifey is on a journey, and even though she picks up men and soaks up their boys on the way, she does ultimately make discoveries about herself and her choices in life. It's a quick read.
Tame for an adult, but it had some great imagery that stuck with me. The book begins with a masked man in a cape riding a motorcycle into Wifey's backyard, tossing up his cape, and...well, tossing off, leaving his "stuff" on her manicured lawn. During a sexual encounter, Wifey lays there and describes a " cock dancing inside me." She liked it. I also seem to recall her masturbating while she was in traffic and giving head to someone, but that could be another book.
I don't mean to make it sound like it's all about sex. Wifey is on a journey, and even though she picks up men and soaks up their boys on the way, she does ultimately make discoveries about herself and her choices in life. It's a quick read.
September 22, 2007
Wifey looks at marriage, motherhood, and sex through the eyes of a sexually-frustrated housewife in the 1970s. Her husband is emotionally-absent, only does it missionary style, and just doesn't get it. "Wifey" spends much of her time day-dreaming about sleeping with other men and has a pretty explicit mind. I was shocked by the ending, and it actually made me cry which was very unexpected for a book like this. Overall, it's an interesting story about self-realization and relationships. The writing isn't brilliant, but it's good and it's a fast read.
November 22, 2013
November 20 2013: Hmm after my first time reading a Judy Blume novel (in this case Summer Sisters) I had expected a lot of her cause that book was awesome.
I am not so sure of this book. I do not know when this and Summer Sisters was published, I thought these were older books, but boy does she love to talk about sex. Refreshing in Summer Sisters although I am not so sure with this book.
I have read about 1/5th now and I can't say I am really loving it. it feels a bit weird but that can also be because I could not keep my eyes open and I kept forgetting who was who last night.
Definitely going to read a bit more.
Update November 22. Finished it this morning and yes I liked it although...yes it was a bit weird. It ended a bit weird too.
I never mind when there is sex in my books. Why should I? To be honest when I was a teenager I was always checking my parents books (I was lucky that both were readers) I read books by Jacqueline Susan, Harold Robbins, some I did not even like that much (The Betsy comes to mind) but I was so intrigued by all the sex scenes. Later I read some other Harold Robbins book that I liked more.
So yes i think I can say I still enjoy a good sex scene in my books ;) and Judy Blue is very capable of that. The language is a bit rough but yeah.
What was weird that the narrator was so insecure that whoever wanted to have sex with her, she did not think of, hmm he is so ugly"No she worried about getting pregnant. lol
I liked how she said the right remarks, answers but we could read what she was really thinking.
I am a bit sad it is finished which is a good sign right?
I am not so sure of this book. I do not know when this and Summer Sisters was published, I thought these were older books, but boy does she love to talk about sex. Refreshing in Summer Sisters although I am not so sure with this book.
I have read about 1/5th now and I can't say I am really loving it. it feels a bit weird but that can also be because I could not keep my eyes open and I kept forgetting who was who last night.
Definitely going to read a bit more.
Update November 22. Finished it this morning and yes I liked it although...yes it was a bit weird. It ended a bit weird too.
I never mind when there is sex in my books. Why should I? To be honest when I was a teenager I was always checking my parents books (I was lucky that both were readers) I read books by Jacqueline Susan, Harold Robbins, some I did not even like that much (The Betsy comes to mind) but I was so intrigued by all the sex scenes. Later I read some other Harold Robbins book that I liked more.
So yes i think I can say I still enjoy a good sex scene in my books ;) and Judy Blue is very capable of that. The language is a bit rough but yeah.
What was weird that the narrator was so insecure that whoever wanted to have sex with her, she did not think of, hmm he is so ugly"No she worried about getting pregnant. lol
I liked how she said the right remarks, answers but we could read what she was really thinking.
I am a bit sad it is finished which is a good sign right?
March 27, 2008
Judy Blume's first book geared towards adults. I hated it! I wish I could give it negative stars here. It's such a shame since I remember really liking her books as a child and recommending her to my own girls.
I loathed every character in this book (who were poorly introduced by the way, and left me wondering if I missed something "Who ARE these people?"). The husband is a complete @$$. There are the types of meddlesome parents/in-laws that complain about the names given to their new grandchildren.
I'm no prude but I found the vulgar language used to describe the main character's own anatomy offensive... What is Blume trying to do here? Shock us? Slap us in the face as if to say "Hey look, this is NOT a kid's book"?
According to the introduction by Blume the main character dumps the husband and goes on an adventure... But by the fourth chapter I didn't care about her enough to hang around and see if she grew some ovaries and started acting like a real woman or not. In all fairness, there was sort-of a humorous part and I'm hoping it gets much much better after chapter four (I just wasn't going waste my time in any case). So if you read it... did it? Get any better?
I loathed every character in this book (who were poorly introduced by the way, and left me wondering if I missed something "Who ARE these people?"). The husband is a complete @$$. There are the types of meddlesome parents/in-laws that complain about the names given to their new grandchildren.
I'm no prude but I found the vulgar language used to describe the main character's own anatomy offensive... What is Blume trying to do here? Shock us? Slap us in the face as if to say "Hey look, this is NOT a kid's book"?
According to the introduction by Blume the main character dumps the husband and goes on an adventure... But by the fourth chapter I didn't care about her enough to hang around and see if she grew some ovaries and started acting like a real woman or not. In all fairness, there was sort-of a humorous part and I'm hoping it gets much much better after chapter four (I just wasn't going waste my time in any case). So if you read it... did it? Get any better?
February 1, 2017
Celebrated children book author Judy Blume’s 1978 work for adults seems desperate to distance itself as far from children’s books as possible. The unsympathetic protagonist, caught in a boring marriage, decides to have an affair. This theme has been much better done by other writers. The numerous sex scenes are blunt, chilling and embarrassing instead of sensual.
This was the cover of the copy I read and puzzled over and laughed at:
This was the cover of the copy I read and puzzled over and laughed at:
December 27, 2007
Judy Blume never disappoints & can be very filthy while doing so. Sandy is sexually repressed and very unhappy in her role as a wifey. But for someone as repressed as her she sure finds herself in some strange sexual encounters. I read this one in one sitting Christmas night. The book may not end how you want it to but I liked the message: That you don't necessarily need to be single in order to find yourself.
February 21, 2008
A reread from my teen years. I can't imagine reading this book as a teenager! A little out of my league! But I really enjoyed it this time around as well. I really enjoy reading steaming sexy stories. I look at the dog-eared paperback rack at the library often, but am too embarrassed to check one out. They just look too trashy. If anyone has any suggestions about books that are normal with trash sprinkled in.....send them my way!
December 26, 2014
3.5....this was a quick, fun read! I can't believe I had not read it before now.
It was fun to read how things were back in this era, how women were expected to look & act a certain way & be "thankful" & "happy" with what they had provided to them by their husbands. But everything was very superficial, no depth.
I know Sandy was looking for more but how she was going about it was not the right way...
Each character was flawed, I liked Sandy but she disappointed me in the end....
It was fun to read how things were back in this era, how women were expected to look & act a certain way & be "thankful" & "happy" with what they had provided to them by their husbands. But everything was very superficial, no depth.
I know Sandy was looking for more but how she was going about it was not the right way...
Each character was flawed, I liked Sandy but she disappointed me in the end....
December 18, 2023
Raise your hand if you knew Judy Blume wrote smut. I’m VERY late to the party here but lord have mercy. This book. A bunch of sexually frustrated Jewish housewives and their cringy husbands doing, um, stuff. With whoever. Country clubs, pot roast, and a bunch of words that start with ‘cu’. I can’t, Judy. You’ve broken me with this outdated, x-rated, secretly entertaining nonsense and I need penance. Are you there, God? It’s me, Jennifer.
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