Campaign Ruby – Jessica Rudd
It’s a little sad – isn’t it? – that the greatest achievement by a Rudd this year is a slender, formulaic piece of chicklit. I came to this book because I’d heard things like “people won’t believe that it was written before the whole Gillard thing”, so I was expecting prescience and political insight. I should have paid more attention to the cover – all girlish pink with a lipsticked title – than the author’s family name. If I’d opened it on the basis of “this is Bridget Jones in Australia!” rather than “oooh, I’m going to read between the lines and find out how Kevin really feels about Julia” then perhaps my reading experience would have been different, because… it really is sort of Bridget-Jones-in-Australia, with about as much political nous as you’d expect from that.
Like the Tropper book, this seemed more like a screenplay for a rom-com than a fully realised novel, although I say this from a place of relative inexperience with chicklit and whatever the “lad” equivalent is; maybe it’s all like that: stereotypical characters, improbable scenarios, predictable narrative arcs. It is probably just the right kind of book to read on the beach, preferably with a daiquiri. The alcohol would take the edge off impatience with the – can I be frank? – shit writing and pop-culture-refs bingo. In fact, three daiquiris and Ruby would be all I could handle.
Rudd is Australian, but she seems to have an alien way of regarding both Australians and the British. It’s as though she is foreign to both British culture and the local variant, but is trying to appeal to both. Ruby seemed to be an English woman written by somebody working from other people’s descriptions of young British women and Australia also seemed to be drawn second hand. I know I should be providing specific examples to back that up, but 1. I don’t have the book handy and 2. it’s the race that stops the nation day and I’ve been drinking. Not daiquiris, but gin cocktails, which might also account for my rancourous tone.
One of the things that really annoyed me was naming the local (Victorian) paper as the Herald. If Rudd wasn’t able to use The Age as the name, then she should have chosen a name that isn’t generally identified as that of the Sydney paper. Okay, to the plot. The email-that-goes-viral. Tick! The relentless name checking of designer brands. Tick! The improbable job offer. Tick! The whole basis of the plot – somebody from England with no experience (and an inappropriate visa) is offered a job in Australia. The geek who doesn’t match up to the handsome-but-ultimately-unsuitable lust interest. The XXXX t-shirt. The enormous font. The complete incompetence of the heroine that seems to be overlooked because… what? She has lady-shavers and microfibre cleaning cloths?
Okay, I actually hated this book. Hated. It took me very little time to read, which was its only plus in my opinion. I would go and see the film of Widower. I would not go near a multiplex showing a film of this.
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[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Katya Injera, Katya Injera. Katya Injera said: I've posted on Campaign Ruby here: http://bit.ly/a5wDYA Have ignored the adage "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all" [...]
Injeera, remind me not to get on your wrong side after you’ve got a few gin cocktails under your belt! I wasn’t mad keen on this book but, having had more exposure to chick lit than you (and I’m certainly not saying that like it’s a good thing) I felt that it was an adequate addition to the genre. At least I finished it, I only skim-read the last third of the last chick lit book I read, which I did in my real live people Book Club. I also probably enjoyed this book more because I did actually read it on holiday – I don’t usually want to read anything too highbrow while on hol’s, so it certainly fitted the bill there.
But back to the book. Like you Injera it really felt like a Brigit Jones – type book, especially when she dropped the dictaphone down the loo, when she came out of the loos (bit of a theme here?!) wearing the XXXX top during the live feed, falling over and spilling coffee all over herself etc. The label-dropping really got on my wick, but not as much as the dialogue with Clem being written in baby-talk. Yeah yeah, we all know that kids get words mixed up and sometimes it’s pretty funny, but I was completely over it by the second time it happened – I found it unnecessary and annoying, though presumably she wanted it so sound endearing. And it certainly had all the clichés of the rom com – which man will she end up with, the handsome cad or the sweet, lovely man she really should be with, despite the daggy ties.
On to the positives, I really enjoyed seeing what life is like for the journos and pollies in the time leading up to the election. I have a feeling that several years ago Rob Sitch and Santo Cilauro made a doco on the same topic, following a labour politician. I did say onto the positiveS as in plural, but aside from the campaign trail insights I actually can’t think of much else about it to comment on, except that it really was a good, escapist holiday read.
Injera it’s interesting that you felt that the English fish out of water / clash with Australia felt insincere – I did also, so I was interested to see that in the acknowledgements she thanked an English friend of hers for ‘improving Ruby’s Englishness’. Maybe that’s why it felt so clunky. And I know that as a Gen X’er I feel it is my duty to bag Gen Y’ers for their inability to stick with things and follow them thru, but it did annoy me when I read in her bio at the front that she describes herself as ex-lawyer, ex-campaign worker and ex-pr consultant. And she’s only 26! I’m sure that you are hoping she will now become an ex-author.