If it’s Gilbert, it has to be good.
“Eat Pray Love,” rocked my world, as it did for so many other women who wander through life sometimes questioning if there’s more in store than servitude to a job, crying on the bathroom floor, and relationships that float out the door as soon as they came. That book is incredible, but Gilbert’s newest, “City of Girls,” flexed her historical fiction chops in a way I never expected, but am completely grateful for.
Running the show in “City of Girls,” is the (very) flawed Vivian Morris, a college dropout in the 1940s, who instead of finishing her studies at Vassar College moves in with her theater-running Aunt Peg in New York City and her band of showgirls and cronies. What follows is a tale of firsts for self described “young and pretty” Vivian — sleeping next to a showgirl, falling in love with a scrappy actor, and one scandal that changed her life forever. Vivian is now in her 80s and is recounting her story to a girl named Angela, who we later find out is the daughter of Vivian’s last great love.
“City of Girls” gets off to somewhat of a slow start. It took awhile for me to fall in love with Vivian, but when I did, I fell hard and fast. Vivian recognizes herself as a spoiled brat, and though this makes her a little unlikable, seeing New York City through her innocent and admiring lens does eventually pick up speed with no lack of vividity. Gilbert’s language is conversational yet descriptive, and we truly feel like we’re watching a production of Vivian’s life play out before us.
Vivian’s personality spins and spirals with the wind. One minute, she is trying to be just like her showgirl roommate, Celia Ray, drinking and taking men to bed each and every night. The next, she is playing housewife to her first love, Anthony Roccella, whose slick words — and hair — remind me a little of my ex-boyfriend, honestly, and that stung. Vivian’s plights are fun to dive into, though it is frustrating for a while when she isn’t finding much of an identity beyond sexual prowess.
Vivian’s resilience, though, is nothing to scoff at, despite her tabloid-esque fall from grace. The messaging in her eventual rise is inspiring. Gilbert takes us through to Vivian’s older age, in which she has controlled her sexual agency to merely become a part of her identity instead of all of it, and it seems by then she has reached a liberation she couldn’t have otherwise if it hadn’t been for her hardships and those around her that affected her life forever. I think the story has so much heart and addresses so many topics that hit readers emotionally: the redefinitions of family, life and loss, finding purpose, and finding peace in solitude.
“At some point in a woman’s life, she just gets tired of being ashamed all the time. After that, she is free to become whoever she truly is.”
Though the plot is rompy, it is filled with the Gilbert sensitivity that resonated with so many in “Eat Pray Love.” By the end, I found myself missing the book, genuinely, the next day. I felt like I got to know Vivian and was invested in what her next steps were, despite her flaws and conventional 1940s setup. Her sexuality and freedom, though they seem naive to today’s woman, were largely impactful to women of the 40s, I can imagine. Little old Vivian did find a way to distinguish herself from a spoiled good girl to a worldly one with opinions, and with autonomy.
I wound up adoring this book and really feel it is worth the read, and am putting it at a strong 4/5.
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