The Nannies Go Nonprofit

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The New York Sun

The authors of the sharp-witted “The Nanny Diaries” have written another satirical take on the Manhattan workplace. In their new novel, “Citizen Girl” (Atria, 320 pages, $24.95), Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus take aim at both the touchy feely not-for-profit sector and the empty-headed (and now mostly defunct) dot-coms. They score some direct hits, but in general give the reader the same problem as the main character: too little information.


Our heroine in this workaday tale is referred to simply as “Girl,” or “G.” (The authors used the same convention in their previous book; the main character was called only “Nanny” and her employer “Mrs. X.”) Girl is a few years out of college, idealistic, public policy-minded.


Her first job after graduating from college is with a used-up feminist agitator who has no concept of personal space or professionalism. Girl is fired and winds up at a Web site, “My Company,” that provides answers to women’s health and beauty questions. Still, she seeks a more activist reputation. The owners hatch a plan to absorb Ms. Magazine and its followers, as well as to make a charitable donation to a worthy women’s cause. Girl is brought in to spearhead the initiative.


Only that makes it all sound a thousand times more clear than the book does.


Her boss, Guy, is a perfectly drawn parody of the cell-phone-wielding, hotair machines puffed up by the Internet economy to epic proportions. He moves too fast to listen, never says anything concrete, and explodes at Girl when she tries to clarify what he wants from her. She tries doggedly to get anything out of him, and he tries just as hard to weasel away:



“I can give you fifteen at, umm.”


Guy rubs his forehead. “Just give me a call on my cell tomorrow morning. Before eleven.”


No problem, I can move all my worldly possessions across the island of Manhattan while writing an initiative-pitch-whatever for Gloria Steinem, as long as you give me fifteen minutes on your cell phone. That’s like fourteen more minutes than you’ve given me in the last three weeks, so I’m golden.


My Company is also trying to woo a client – a female-owned British lingerie label called Bovary – and a major pitch session is set up in Los Angeles. This allows the authors to write in a makeover scene that, though cute, doesn’t quite spring off the page. Girl gets a fake tan, bikini wax, dye job, new outfit, and a teeny-tiny bikini for the big poolside client pitch. The funniest portion is a scene in which Girl thinks the bikini is a necklace and tries it on as such.


Ultimately, the absurd My Company has to downsize. The good news (sort of) is that Girl becomes one of the downsizers rather than a downsizee. The bad news is that it becomes a porn web portal, and as an idealistic young feminist, Girl can’t deal. The ending trails off like a movie with a sunset shot – only here it’s the Manhattan skyline.


Ms. McLaughlin and Ms. Kraus have created a readable, lively book. But the fact that Girl (and thus the reader) is constantly in the dark becomes frustrating. Though Girl’s boyfriend has some verve, many of the ancillary female characters are hastily drawn and lifeless.


There are some passages written with a wickedly sardonic tongue. At a conference to benefit womens’-issue nonprofits (which Girl organizes),several women wind up in a screaming match over parking permits at a previous, unrelated event. Later, a meeting with the Bovary ladies goes completely over the top when the clients show a “Girls Gone Senseless” video and describe their future plans for their brand.


And when the action is taken away from the office, the book serves up moments of intense observation and detailed interactions. Girl pops into Babbo to have herself a Scotch (a drink that seems slightly out of character), then observes the following: “The door to the ladies’ room opens, and a couple spills out in a peal of giggles. His horn-rimmed glasses slightly askew, he devours her gaze as she straightens his tie, her face glowing beneath the heat of his attention. A last kiss and they undulate together back up the stairs, the force of their attraction encompassing the restaurant in its magnetic waves.”


The sight sends Girl to her boy’s arms – and if the whole of the book were written like this, “Citizen Girl” would have been a very different novel. As it is, the book is an entertaining read that puts in perspective just how crazy all workplaces are. Whether they’re for-profit or nonprofit, no one seems to know what they’re doing. And they certainly can’t communicate it to their underlings, much less the board of directors. That bit of social commentary in itself makes this book a welcome addition to its genre: instead of a decent husband, our heroine seeks a sane boss. Funny that they’re equally elusive.


The New York Sun

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