A fast-talking female ad exec faces two challenges: how to come to terms with dating the perfect man, and how to sell God.
Despite boasting cynicism and a provocative email correspondence with the Almighty, Rajah’s witty debut is still chick-lit, sheltered under a shellacked, smart-ass coating. Her heroine, Sydney, may hold down a big job in Los Angeles, at Fisher Bennet McMahon and May, and have a riposte for every situation, but at heart she’s still looking for Mr. Right—the problem being that, having found him (his name is Jake), she can’t deal with his flawlessness. Her job is in jeopardy unless she lands the account of the Catholic Church, which means figuring out how to market “a bad-tempered old man who sends people to hell,” and who has the wrong brand name for a god. (“A good brand name for a god is Nike.”) In between these dilemmas, there’s a lot of repartee, some boozing in bars with best friend Anna and involvement not only with attractive Jake, but also a handsome priest, a crinkly-eyed cop, Sydney’s soap star/ex-boyfriend Matt and a flirtatious (and mysterious) online journalist calling himself Charles Turner. Those not offended by jokes about pedophile priests, divinity and other sensitive subjects might warm to this ultra-sarcastic and supposedly maximally hip narrator who doesn’t believe in happily ever after. Sydney wins the account but quits her job in order to pursue her true goals in life. As for Jake, she discovers she has faith after all.
For those who like their heroines hardboiled (with soft centers) and their comedy aggressively cute.