The Glow

Informationen zum Autor Jessie Gaynor 's work has appeared in McSweeney's Internet Tendency, The New Yorker, WSJ Magazine, and elsewhere. She is a senior editor at Literary Hub and she has an MFA in poetry from the Iowa Writers' Workshop, where she was a Rona Jaffe fellow. Jessie Gaynor lives in Richmond, Virginia with her family. Klappentext A desperate young publicist tries to save her career by turning the charismatic leader of a grungy retreat center into the hot new self-care brand in this irresistibly entertaining debut novel. A razor-sharp sendup of an industry built on the peculiar intersection of money and wellness, where health is a commodity and self-care a luxury. Leseprobe Chapter 1 Hey, badass bitch! Thought you might be interested in the new line of non-toxic, non-flammable, BPA-free toys from Pleasure Class. C-Sweet toys are designed for the adventurous #GirlBoss. They put the OHHHHH in She-E-O. C-Sweet is for all the Nasty Women who work hard, play hard, and cm hard;) Sometimes it helped Jane to think of the emails like poems in which she was enacting her own mania, a little more each line. And just in case you think this is just another basic-bitch vibrator, let me tell you about a couple of my favorite C-Sweet goodies: BijOoh, a subtle vibrating ring and necklace set that can take you from boardroom to bedroom 1:1, a double-ended dildo that will touch all your bases The Management, a remote-controlled butt plug for not-so-hostile takeovers Trust me: These will clit-erally change your life. Can I send you over some samples? And let me know if you're free for some mani/pedi/girl talk action soon! xxJane Jane Dorner had never used a butt plug, and manicures made her cuticles bleed. At first it had been fun, the refining of Public Relations Jane. She was breezy, overly familiar, sexually omnivorous, joylessly joyful, and clever in a nonthreatening way. She was hot, but only with makeup on. She liked her shoulders but hated her arms. She wouldn't steal your boyfriend, but she might f** his brother and tell you about that dick. She did barre and boot camp, but she was just in it to cancel out the day drinking. She thought women with visible muscles needed to take it down a notch, even though, obviously, you do you!, et cetera. She liked VIP lounges and Champagne-flavored gummi bears and USB drives shaped like baby animals. If your mother died, PR Jane would send you a gift basket a month laterone of her clients, UnBereave, was a subscription box service that focused on self-care after tragedy, including lavender bath bombs they'd rebranded as bath bloomsbut she probably wouldn't be able to go to the funeral, because she already had tickets to see her college roommate in LA for the long weekend. She'd post her brunch-themed sign from the Women's March and go to brunch after. She was up for whatever, but she wasn't someone you called in any kind of emergency. PR Jane was twenty-five and she figured she had two more good years before she had to really knuckle down and listen to the answers to her questions. Actual Jane was twenty-nine. She had $97,000 in medical debt, a limitless capacity for disappointing first dates, and a malaise so deep she wondered if it might just be her personality. Lately, she was becoming increasingly concerned about her career and her futureneither of which seemed like the low-stakes annoyances they once had. All of a sudden, without warning, the conversation about so-called passion among Jane's cohort had turned from thinking about starting a band to thinking about accepting my manager's offer of corporate leadership training. Jane didn't begrudge anyone their selling out; she only wished she could have done so more effectively. All she'd done in the seven years since she graduated from college was accumulate an unfinished PhD,...

Autorentext

Jessie Gaynor’s work has appeared in McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, The New Yorker, WSJ Magazine, and elsewhere. She is a senior editor at Literary Hub and she has an MFA in poetry from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, where she was a Rona Jaffe fellow. Jessie Gaynor lives in Richmond, Virginia with her family.

Klappentext

A desperate young publicist tries to save her career by turning the charismatic leader of a grungy retreat center into the hot new self-care brand in this “wryly funny [and] fabulous debut novel” (The New York Times Book Review)**.

*“A satire both cutting and careful in its approach, The Glow is a triumph.”—Elle

• A GLAMOUR AND LIT HUB BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR**

  Jane Dorner has two modes: PR Jane, twenty-five, chummy, and eager to sell you a feminist vibrator or a self-care/bereavement subscription box; and Actual Jane, twenty-nine, drifting through mediocre workdays and lackluster dates while paralyzed by her crushing mountain of overdue medical bills. When her job performance is called into question, Jane’s last-ditch effort to preserve her livelihood and pay off her debt is to land a white whale of a client.

  Enter the impossibly gorgeous Cass—whom Jane discovers scrolling through Instagram—and her unassuming husband, Tom, proprietors of a “wellness retreat” based out of a ramshackle country house that may or may not be giving off cult vibes. Suddenly Jane realizes she might have found the one ladder she can climb—if she can convince them that transforming Cass herself into a high-end wellness brand is the key to all three of their futures. Magnetic yet mysterious, Cass is primed to be an influencer: She speaks in a mix of inspirational quotes and Zen koans, eats only zucchini (the most spiritually nourishing vegetable), and has baby-perfect skin. Despite Tom’s reticence about selling out, Jane sets out to mold Cass into the kind of guru who can offer inner peace and make your skin glow—all at a hefty price, of course. As Jane reckons with her own long-dormant ambitions, she wonders: Can a person really “do good” for others while profiting off them? And what parts of our selves do we lose when we trade power, influence, and beauty?

  Sparklingly plotted, deliciously deadpan, and irresistibly entertaining, The Glow is a razor-sharp sendup of an industry built on the peculiar intersection of money and wellness, where health is a commodity and self-care a luxury.

  Leseprobe
  Chapter 1

  Hey, badass bitch! Thought you might be interested in the new line of non-toxic, non-flammable, BPA-free toys from Pleasure Class. C-Sweet toys are designed for the adventurous #GirlBoss. They put the OHHHHH in She-E-O. C-Sweet is for all the Nasty Women who work hard, play hard, and cm hard;)*

  Sometimes it helped Jane to think of the emails like poems in which she was enacting her own mania, a little more each line.

  *And just in case you think this is just another basic-bitch vibrator, let me tell you about a couple of my favorite C-Sweet goodies:

  —BijOoh, a subtle vibrating ring and necklace set that can take you from boardroom to bedroom

  —1:1, a double-ended dildo that will touch all your bases

  —The Management, a remote-controlled butt plug for not-so-hostile takeovers

  Trust me: These will clit-erally change your life. Can I send you over some samples? And let me know if you’re free for some mani/pedi/girl talk action soon!*

  xxJane

  Jane Dorner had never used a butt plug, and manicures made her cuticles bleed.

  At first it had been fun, the refining of Public Relations Jane. She was breezy, overly familiar, sexually omnivorous, joylessly joyful, and clever in a nonthreatening way. She was hot, but only with makeup on. She liked her shoulders but hated her arms. She wouldn’t steal your boyfriend, but she might f*** his brother and tell you about that dick. She did barre and boot camp, but she was just…