When I was 15, I was in Sam’s Club with my mom (who I’m sure was off somewhere buying 67 rolls of toilet tissue for the price of 13 while I was browsing in the book section). Back then, the book section of Sam’s was basically a swap-meet table set up with a bunch of Tom Clancy-ish books that catered to what I assume Sam’s assumed their target audience must be. That day I picked up The Devil Wears Prada, which looked interesting enough for me to finagle with my mother to buy for me. The next year, the book became a film that is something of an institution in my family. We LOVE The Devil Wears Prada, so I guess it makes perfect sense that I am not guilty at all about loving Crazy Rich Asians.
I started seeing trailers for the movie Crazy Rich Asians a couple months ago, and they piqued my interest if for no other reason than that there are so few films with Asian leads coming out of Hollywood, even in 2018. Some quick googling informed me that the film was based on a book, and 1 click on Amazon brought the book to my doorstep a couple weeks ago.
The rest is history. I devoured this book, which I can best describe as The Devil Wears Prada gone Asian. We enter a new world, just as we did in ’03 when we stepped our Manolos into the halls of Runway Magazine with the nerdy Andy. This time we are flying first class into the elite echelons of Singaporean society with the unsuspecting kinda-ABC (American-Born Chinese) Rachel. And boy, are we in for a treat. I loved every second of learning about this private-jet flying, jewel-dripping, member’s-only-club-frequenting segment of the world population.
Was this a deep novel? No. Any life lessons? Not really. Complex characters? Well…no. Educational? Only if you are intellectually curious about the most ridiculous things that you can build into a private jet.
Nah, this book is just good ole fun. It’s like reading an Asian Version of the Shade Room dedicated only to the richest of the rich and with spark notes that help you understand who it who and what and why you should care (because DO YOU KNOW WHO HE IS?!). The novel opens with a chapter that is completely irrelevant to the rest of the happenings in the book, but serves merely to give you a Swarovski-crystal clear picture of *exactly* how crazy rich the people in this novel are. Filthy, to be exact.
When it comes to light summer reading, you cannot go wrong with Crazy Rich Asians. I’m looking forward to the film!