This book has been on my shelves so long I am unable to remember what there was in the catalog description that could possibly have encouraged me to buy it; I rack my brain, I read the description on the book itself; no use. I have no answer. And having read it, I still ask myself, Why? Reading the blurbs on the back, it is clear the blurbers were totally enthused about the book. Is it possible I am wrong? Or do I just have different standard for "deliciously witty"? True, there are some great one-liners, and a few passages that truly sing, but for the most part, it is ordinary, pedestrian writing with totally uninteresting and unlikable characters. It seems the author may have been trying to skewer the noxious culture of wealth that pervades the Notting Hill set, but it's hard to see that in her writing, which seems to be trying to get you to sympathize with the plight of spoiled wives who turn their children over to nannies so they can do the hard work of "health and beauty maintenance" - in short, yoga, Pilates, and strange dietary customs at Whole Foods stores. If the author was trying to skewer this society, she is not a strong enough writer to pull it off. She should perhaps review the works of G. B. Shaw and Somerset Maugham, who did manage that successfully. Overall, I wish I had aborted the book when I realized it wasn't going to be good, and was still close enough to be beginning that I felt I could justify it, rather than rushing to get it finished so I could move on to something more satisfying. ( )

Rachel Johnson writes as capably as her brother (the irksome Boris of that ilk), and gives a very entertaining account of life in one of the communal garden squares in Notting Hill (which I like to think of as London's other Hill).

The story unfolds in a series of alternating narratives recounted by Clare (immensely wealthy, nearly forty, obsessively tidy and increasingly distraught at her continuing failure to conceive) and Mimi (Clare's slightly younger neighbour, relentlessly untidy, mother of three and in a state of unassailable denial about her family's gradual slide into financial decrepitude).

This is not really a novel in which much happens but the descriptions of the excesses of some of Clare's and Mimi's neighbours, and the insights into the competitive acquisitiveness (generally for its own sake) are hugely entertaining. There are some glorious set pieces, including a professionally catered dinner party at the house of the American bankers who are generally acknowledged as the wealthiest inhabitants of the square, and the summer sports event. In many ways it reminded me of John Lanchester's 'Capital' (the book, not the lamentable television adaptation), though without the seething menace that underpinned life on Pepys Road.

Beautifully observed, and delivered with delicious acidity, this was far more entertaining than I had expected, and I am now keen to read its successor volumes. ( )

Een soort ironische chicklit, een luchtig tussendoortje. Wel grappig om te lezen maar wat mij betreft wat aan de dikke kant, had wel wat bondiger gemogen. Het zal me niet lang bijblijven, vermoed ik. ( )

Good story slightly ruined by the mistakes in the print. It didn't seem to have been proof read before being sent off to the printers! ( )

The cover of the book misled me into thinking that this would be a super cute and fun book to read; but I’m sorry to say this, it’s not. I thought it was going to be like Bridget Jones, but it wasn’t. There’s a communal garden (like the Julia Roberts “Notting Hill” movie) and everyone is cheating on everyone else, and I don’t know who is talking and I just got lost. Ultimately, it’s a rather depressing book about nothing, to which I have lost interest. I have 5 chapters left, but I’ve put it down, and I don’t know when I’ll pick it back up. ( )