Jemima J by Jane Green

Green’s descriptions of Jemima’s world ring fairly true – at the beginning of the novel. Many young women feel trapped in a job and overlooked because they do not measure up to society’s impossibly perfect standards. What draws in the reader is Jemima’s voice; she could be a co-worker, family member, or the reader herself with her opening lines “God I wish I were thin. I wish I were thin, gorgeous, and could get any man I want.” She then goes on to refute any objections from the reader: “You probably think I’m crazy, I mean here I am, sitting at work on my own with a massive double-decker club sandwich in front of me, but I’m allowed to dream aren’t I?” (1). Like Jemima, I most often long to lose weight when I am shoving in the calories. Like Jemima, I demand my right to dream. Unlike, Jemima, however, I am old enough to realize that life – while it can offer unbelievable coincidence, good times, true love, and happy endings – is not a fairy tale. However, reading a good fairy tale and dreaming big dreams helps to offset the demands made by our real world existence.

Two different reviews of this novel evoke fairy tale diction to discuss its merits. Nancy Pearl sums up Jemima’s story: “a sensible diet and regular exercise can turn any fat and ugly duckling into a slim, tanned, well-dressed, and exceedingly attractive swan.” Jean Reynolds discusses that “Green has entertainingly updated the Cinderella story, though Jemima finds that even in the vastness of cyberspace, a charming prince is hard to find.” Jane Green’s own website even echoes the language: “this ugly-duckling-turned-swan story.” The fairy tale aspects of the novel are what cause such a strong reaction in readers, as Green comments that people love or hate her book. Some people just are not ready for fairy tales – or perhaps feel they have moved beyond them.

This novel is one of transformation, a reinventing of self, which is a theme that runs throughout much of literature, particularly American, but whose roots can be found in fairy tales in all languages. Jemima begins as a Cinderella figure, minus a parent and living with two evil step-sisters. The story of Cinderella prepares the reader for Sophie’s and Lisa’s treachery with Ben’s phone number and his going away party. As Jemima becomes more thin and swan-like, the two evil sisters become more grotesque and pitiable culminating in the comic scene where Sophie pretends to be Ben’s girlfriend. As the two enter the party, Jemima describes them “like a bloody parody of themselves,” and she’s “pretty damn sure I’m doing about as perfect as impression of a Cheshire cat as I know how,” another literary allusion to a fairy tale novel. Through the eyes of Jemima and the narrator, the reader laughs at Sophie and Lisa’s defeat.

The next step for Jemima is a quest, one that completes her transformation and necessarily takes her to a different place to begin her new life. She travels to America and even lives up to the harsh standards of Hollywood where appearance trumps everything. Jemima delights in the attention she receives for her “new” body although she does have some disquieting moments as she wonders if this plastic paradise is really what she wants. Next, she discovers a false prince, finally sees through him with the help of her good friends, and reveals her Cinderella princess/beautiful swan self to her true prince, the one beloved by his kingdom. Finally, she returns home to a presumably wonderful life with Ben, and the final words echo another fairy tale, in their description of a place over the rainbow: “It’s wonderful, and vibrant, and real. And most of all, it’s home.” The epilogue even offers the moral of the fable: “But fairy tales can come true, and just like Jemima Jones... “if we trust in ourselves, embrace our faults, and brazen it out with courage, strength, bravery, and truth, fate may just smile upon us too” (373). What’s not to like about that?

Why does such a sweet story evoke such strong reactions? One of the reviewers I mentioned before sees the novel as “superficial” while the other finds it entertaining and witty. I believe that Jennifer Maher in her article “The Post-Feminist Mystique” addresses this love it or hate it reaction: “This notion of fantasy and escape fuels much of the audience for chick-lit, I would argue, and this is both its strength and its weakness....Whether a fall into fantasy as a response to inequality is a positive or a negative response depends on one’s critical alliances” (Maher 198). As long as we see a fall into fantasy as just that – a fairy tale – the novel becomes innocuous fun. So what if it is implausible? So what if too much importance is placed on appearance? Green does add disclaimers along the way. Jemima realizes “The weird thing is that people judge me by my looks as much as they did before, only now they just come up with a completely different conclusion, and yes, I have a boyfriend, but my life certainly isn’t the fairy tale I thought it would be” (313). Even Ben realizes “the longer [he] sits in this restaurant with this beautiful woman, the less she becomes a gorgeous blond, and the more she becomes Jemima Jones, for [he] looks past the legs, the dress, the hair, and he sees his old friend, a friend, he suddenly realizes, he never wants to walk out on again” (355). A good read, a good moral – why would people hate that? Because they can; that is what reading is all about.

I divide books into those I read before going to bed at night; those I need to be wide wake and thinking about while reading; and those I want to read in an academic setting that will provides tools, discussion, and lots of insight in order to sort out possible interpretations. I would classify Jemima J as part of the first group, which in no way belittles the book; I still consider it interesting and well-written, but I don’t grab for a highlighter while reading it. As Green’s website said of the book, it is one “you’ll gobble up in a single setting.” I did tear through it and would recommend it as a cute, fluffy read. I will never outgrow fairy tales!