Love Juice Book

Hubby, famous architect, is dead. Wife goes through personal effects. Voila! A cache of letters tied together with magenta grosgrain ribbon...The dirty secrets therein...
Despite all of the reviews here to the contrary, this is actually quite well written, and surprisingly thoughtful at times. Vanderbilt writes about the kind of people she knows: rich and beautiful and popular; and about the sorts of expensive material goods she no doubt posesses in abundance. It's kind of her erotic Gatsby. The framework is not particularly original. It's like Bridges of Madison County for the Hamptons set. The book is short, (mildly) dirty and, for me, cheap ($1 clearance). As erotica, it has the set-up down good and the dreamy poetic voice, but is weak on the follow-through. It didn't make me all tingly and hard, alas. The opening chapter begins in an omniscient voice and then goes to a first-person and you're initially confused about who is talking, at least for a few pages (it's the wife, fyi). This change of voices occurs later in the book and the effect is awkward. It's not confusing, but detracts from the flow of the book because it sticks out as a distraction. Anyway, I did find the mistress, Bee, intriguing, for her blend of submissiveness, strength and erotic acumen. I think any man would. She is the sexual doppelganger of Priscilla, Talbot's wife--mirror images outside only. However, a Persona-like fusion awaits. The flights of fancy and revenge fantasies harbored by the rival women in the second half of the book are rather silly and florid, but fairly inventive and fun. The object of their obsession gone, they obsess over each other. It struck me, reading this, that Vanderbilt has a pretty good sense of the needs of both men and women. For spouses, this might serve as a good cautionary tale about not neglecting or rejecting each others' desires and fantasies. There are obvious links in spirit between this novella and Arthur Schnitzler's Dream Story and its Stanley Kubrick film adaptation, Eyes Wide Shut (both of which I love). I think if I handed this manuscript to a publisher I would be proud and pleased with myself. Really. I think a lot of the venom toward this book is just hoi polloi resentment toward Vanderbilt, which is something I understand, and why I was pleased to get this book on clearance for $1 and deny her royalties to make her even more obscenely rich. But, come on, when Talbot carries Bee and places her naked body on the open shell of the fountain sculpture and the water flows between her legs and he hands her a parasol, you gotta love it. I didn't expect much of this book, but derived enjoyment nonetheless. The writing is far better than Twilight (what isn't?) and the characters are adults caught up in healthy erotic perversions. Your mileage may vary.