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The Other Woman's Shoes: Sexy and Comfortable--Can You Really Have Both?, by Adele Parks
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Eliza and Martha are sisters. But that's where the similarity ends. Martha appears to have the perfect life: two lovely children and plenty of money. Eliza lives in a one-bedroom flat with her musician boyfriend Greg. When Eliza ditches Greg and turns up on her sister's doorstep, she expects to be swallowed into the sanctuary of Martha's warm loving home. But Martha's husband has just announced he's leaving. For good. Proving to both women that a wedding ring isn't a life raft. Then Martha meets Jack, who is everything she's never wanted, whilst Eliza is dating dozens of men in hope of finding the perfect husband. Suddenly the sisters are faced with the same challenge- is there such as thing as the perfect love? or the perfect life?
- Sales Rank: #7119895 in Books
- Published on: 2008-06-03
- Released on: 2008-06-03
- Format: International Edition
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 7.80" h x 1.22" w x 5.08" l, .62 pounds
- Binding: Paperback
- 496 pages
Review
'When it comes to fiction reflecting feminine issues, Adele Parks has her finger on the pulse' Glamour 'Wonderfully plotted, moving and insightful...shot through with funny, tender and observant moments' Daily Mail 'Full of emotional set-pieces and real insight into relationships between men and women' Heat 'A fabulous mix of comedy, real life and emotional depth' Daily Express 'A wicked pleasure' Woman & Home 'She is a particularly acute observer of relationship ups and downs, and her stories are always as insightful as they are entertaining' Daily Mirror 'Guaranteed to keep you hooked until the end' She magazine 'Parks writes with wit and a keen eye for detail' Guardian 'Deliciously down to earth' The Times 'Entertaining and sophisticated' Marie Claire 'Observant, sensitive and funny' Closer 'Dark, funny and observant' Cosmopolitan 'Compulsively addictive' Elle
About the Author
Adele Parks is the author of three bestselling novels: PLAYING AWAY, GAME OVER and LARGER THAN LIFE. She lives in London with her husband and baby son.
Excerpt. � Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
Martha wasn't usually to be found on Earl's Court station in the middle of the afternoon. She rarely travelled by Tube at all; it was so impractical with the children. Not enough of the stations had lifts, and dragging ten-month-old Maisie and two-and-a-half-year-old Mathew (not to mention the related paraphernalia of double buggy, endless bags, several dolls, books, rain covers, etc, etc) up and down escalators or stairs was not Martha's idea of fun. Martha rarely went anywhere without the children so mostly she drove around London in the family car. But today the car was in the garage being serviced.
Lucky bloody car.
Martha looked around, guiltily, as though she'd said her thought aloud. No one was paying her the least bit of notice, which suggested she hadn't.
It's not that she was complaining about Michael's lack of attention, it was just that...OK, she was complaining.
The children were being looked after by her mother. Martha felt a little bit guilty about this too, although as guilt was the emotion Martha experienced most, she no longer even recognized that she was feeling guilty. Nor did she realize when she felt tense, stressed or even exhausted. She was terrifyingly used to the horrible dull ache in the pit of her stomach, the ache that told her she'd forgotten, or failed, or ruined something somehow, despite all her best efforts.
Martha thought it was unfair to ask her mother to babysit just so she could go to the hairdresser's, however much her mother insisted that it was a pleasure looking after the children. It seemed selfish. She'd visited Toni and Guy's in Knightsbridge to have her hair cut by the amazing Stephen for over five years. Martha normally took the children with her to the salon, which was quite a challenge. One or the other, or both, usually screamed throughout, turning the experience into an ordeal rather than a treat. Martha had considered bringing them along today and taking a cab to avoid the Tube. But then she would have had to fit both car seats into the cab, and the driver always became impatient when she did that. Where would she have put the seats when she arrived at the hairdresser's? They'd have been in the way.
Martha hated being in the way, or causing any sort of scene at all, however minor. She liked to blend, to fit in. Ideally she'd like to be altogether invisible. Besides which, Martha always felt cabs were just a tiny bit self-indulgent, and such extravagance was not her style. Indeed there could hardly be anything less Martha's style than self-indulgence, except perhaps fluorescent-pink hair accessories.
So it had been a toss-up. Luckily, her mother had taken the decision out of Martha's hands, by turning up with balloons and E-additives in the form of sweets and squash.
Martha fingered the already impeccably neat collar of her shirt and straightened it again. She checked her reflection in the shiny chocolate machine that stood, temptingly, on the platform. She brushed a few errant hairs from her shoulders. The cut was perfectly symmetrical. Martha went to the hairdresser's on the first Friday of every month, at 2:15 p.m. Only the very observant would notice that her hair had been cut at all. It was an iota sharper, a fraction tidier. Martha was pleased with it, all the more so because you could hardly tell it had been done.
Martha's hair, like Martha, was neat, sleek, orderly. It was brown with subtle dark-blonde highlights. She loathed bed-hair, scrunched hair, artfully sculpted hair and even curls. Martha liked straight, reliable, controllable hair. Her heart went out to those women who had "bad hair days." Imagine getting out of bed and having random bits of hair sticking out at jaunty, irresponsible angles. Or treacherous hair that went flat when it was supposed to be full, and full when it was supposed to be sleek. Martha breathed in deeply, fearful at the very thought.
Her coat was beige, pure wool, very long. It was tied with a belt, which showed off her neat waist. It wasn't a fashionable coat but it was a classic, and it was flattering. She wore 10-denier skin-tone tights (stockings were ludicrous, stay-ups simply didn't). She wore patent court shoes that she'd bought in Russell and Bromley but somehow, on Martha, they appeared entirely Dr. Scholl. The heel was a sensible inch and a half.
Under her coat she wore a neat tailored navy suit (not black, goodness, she wasn't a barrister and she certainly didn't work in advertising). Her shirt was pale blue and other than her wedding ring and engagement ring (a large cluster of diamonds), she didn't bother with jewellery, although she did wear a beautiful, expensive watch. Whilst women commented that Martha's skin, hair and nails were perfect and would agree to call her attractive, men were more likely to compliment her on her good brain (new man), or quiche lorraine (traditional-variety). She was popular with men who were turned on by school marms and the young Princess Diana. That type of man thought of her as extremely sexy.
It seemed to Martha that just about everybody on the platform at Earl's Court thought just about everybody else on the platform was extremely sexy. She tried, very hard, to keep her eyes on the chocolate-bar machine.
It was about four o'clock, school kicking-out time. The outrage was that all the people finding all the other people sexy were children. Martha wanted to keep her face impassive and not allow her mouth to tighten into a tell-tale grimace. But girls, aged anywhere between twelve and sixteen (Martha couldn't tell, who could nowadays?) were blatantly flirting with boys of the same age! Mathew would be this age in the blink of an eye. The thought caused the dull ache in the pit of Martha's stomach to flare into a spasm of searing anguish. It was September, they ought to have been wearing their jackets and there would certainly soon be a need for handkerchiefs, as these girls all insisted on sporting skirts the size of one.
Martha (along with every testosterone-driven youth on the station) found it impossible to avoid staring at one particular girl who stood a few metres along the platform, chewing gum. The girl was leaning against a poster advertising the latest blockbuster movie. It struck Martha that the girl herself had a cinematic quality, as pretty young girls often did. This was probably because they spent a lot of time imagining they were in movies, so every movement was calculated for its effect on an audience. Martha remembered at least that much from her own teenage years. The way the girl wore her jumper tied around her hips and her shirt buttoned up incorrectly was designed to look deliberately casual and to suggest a hasty dressing, the circumstances of which were left to the imagination of the inquisitive voyeur. Martha knew that the look would no doubt have been achieved only after several painstaking rearrangements.
Martha and a gaggle of jostling noisy boys watched as the girl put her finger in her mouth, found the gum, pulled it and stretched it like an umbilical cord from mouth to finger. She twisted it around her finger then popped it back into her mouth again. The action, whilst blatantly flirtatious, was harmless, really, but still it unsettled Martha. It reminded her of something -- she couldn't, wouldn't, think what. The tallest boy in the group of jostling noisy boys stepped forward and bravely started talking to the girl. He stared at the girl with obvious longing. It was clear that his only thought was how to get to leave his hand prints all over her body. Martha felt a lump of envy sit heavily on her chest, her hand fluttered to her neck as though she were trying to brush the envy away. Envy was an illegal emotion.
The tall boy wasn't sure how to explain his appetite and possibly wouldn't be eloquent enough for several more years, so the pair stuttered and blushed through a conversation about what Martha presumed was a "pop band" of some sort. How strange that such rampant sexiness was so innocent, so hopeful. Martha's envy dissolved into longing. The girl caught Martha staring and stared back with all the hostility and honesty of youth. Martha blushed and dragged her eyes away. Thank God, the train pulled into the platform. Martha scolded herself; longing was even more dangerous than envy.
Copyright � 2003 by Adele Parks
Most helpful customer reviews
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
Was quite a struggle to get through
By Danielle
The back cover makes this book sound like an entirely different book than it actually is. Whoever wrote the synopsis for the back cover should be fired because it sounds nothing like the book that I read, except for maybe one or two things that did happen in the book. It makes it sound like it's mainly about two sisters but it's actually about one sister and her sexual exploits with a hot guy and another sister thrown in every 10 pages or so.
Martha is the main character in here. We get to read how perfect she and her life is for a little while. Then her husband leaves her and the whining about that goes on for quite a long time. Nothing interesting happens in that time except for Martha falling apart. Then Martha goes to a salsa club and meets Jack. Then the mind-blowing sex they have is written in every detail several times. In some ways, I have a hard time believing that Martha is the best mother, like Adele Parks wants us to believe. I mean, it seems Martha is out every night with Jack and when they're not out at different places, then they're having sex all over Martha's house with Martha's two children and Martha's sister in the house. Of course we have a couple scenes thrown in so we think Martha is just the best.
We also have what seems to be the same phone conversations between Martha and her ex husband, Michael. Those conversations consist of Martha whining and asking why he left and Michael is always distant and snobby. It got to be old really fast. Yet another thing that kept on repeating was the conversation between Eliza and Martha, in which Eliza would say how Jack was just going to break Martha's heart and Martha going on and on about how he makes her feel young and she won't fall in love with him and just how he's the perfect guy. I wish whoever edited this book would have cut some of those conversations out because it was just the same thing over and over and the reader only needs to read it once to get how Eliza stands about Jack.
I really didn't care for the character of Martha, if you couldn't tell already. At first, she just seems too rigid and then after Jack, she acts like a teenager even though she still has responsibities. There was just nothing for me to connect with and therefore I didn't root for her at all. The book also goes on and on about how she feels and after awhile, I just started to scan the pages until I found anything semi-interesting to read.
Eliza, the other sister, gets very little space in this book. It's almost like her story is an afterthought. In the beginning she is shown as the wild child of the two sisters. But then Eliza decides it's time to grow up and so she dumps the guy who she feels is to immature for her. The rest of the book, Eliza is pretty much the baby-sitter to Martha's children and the person Adele Parks' puts in when she needs someone to argue with Martha. Before and when there's a lull in Martha's sexploits, Eliza goes on a few dates but the men she goes out with are all wrong. There's really no middle to Eliza's story-just a beginning and an end.
I would not recommend this book to anyone. "In her shoes" is a much better book about the relations between sisters. "Lust for life" or "The other woman's shoes" as it was published in the UK, is just a wannabe compared to Jennifer Weiner's "In her shoes". I also have "Larger than Life" by Adele Parks, which I haven't read yet but I'm hoping it's quite a bit better than "Lust for Life".
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
Martha gets her groove on
By Tracy Vest
Eliza is envious of her sister's life - Martha has it all - the loving husband, the adorable children, the mortgage, the pension plan... When she dumps her musician boyfriend Greg to find a more appropriate grown up man and comes to cry on Martha's shoulder, she discovers that Martha's husband Michael has left her.
The house in shambles, and Martha in shock, Eliza moves in the help her sister make the transition to singledom. But Martha assumes this is just a phase and that Michael will be back. When the sisters venture out on the dating scene, Eliza has a hard time finding a new relationship, while Martha jumps right into one with charismatic Jack Hope.
Parks has penned an interesting story about a woman who finds herself suddenly single, but it fails to fulfill the reader. Rather than empowerment, Martha wallows in self-pity waiting for her husband to return, even while engaged in a relationship with Jack. While it is billed as a story about both sisters finding love, this is primarily Martha's story. Eliza and the male characters were basically one dimensional and their characters never fully developed. Eliza's many blind dates should've been a focal point. As it was, each was relegated to a couple paragraphs - definitely a missed opportunity. Parks has penned much better. Released in the US as "Lust for Life," probably to avoid confusion with Jennifer Weiner's "In Her Shoes."
4 of 5 people found the following review helpful.
Predictable and dull
By Emma Kaufmann
This book had me scratching my head, wondering how it got published. There was nothing to sustain it for the first two hundred pages apart from two events, Eliza leaves her lover and her sister Martha gets dumped by her husband. So I waded through that bit hoping for something a bit more interesting than descriptions of Martha cleaning up after the kids and drinking her woes away and Eliza going on dull dates with dull men.
But the only thing that happened after that was that Martha met a two dimensional prat called Jack who had a big penis and that apparently was the cure all for being heartbroken. After that I stopped reading, because frankly I was bored. Sorry Adele, your characters are about as believable as those in a day time soap.
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