0
0
When Kas Sienkiewicz takes off on a South African vacation with her two friends, Max and Libby, the last thing she anticipates is a wild-and-crazy fling. After all, it’s been just a few days since Valentine’s Day, when she ran into Richard—who hadn’t called in fifteen days—at a bar with his fiancée.
Devastated, Kas just wants to get away for a few days. But when she meets William, the supermodel-gorgeous ranger, her wants (as well as Libby’s and Max’s) suddenly change. Though Libby and Max spend their vacation fighting for William’s attention, he only has eyes for Kas. So—urged by her lust-struck friends—Kas sleeps with him on their last night in South Africa.
But that one-night stand soon turns into so much more. William loses his job and decides to head to New York, where he figures Kas, his new girlfriend, can help him follow his dream of becoming a writer. There’s just one big problem: William can’t write. In fact, as far as Kas is concerned, he can’t even think. And she has no idea how she’s going to get rid of him.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t figure out how I was going to be able to finish reading it. I’m with Stupid is a challenging read—not because it’s so smart but because it’s so shallow. Each of the three main characters is more agonizingly superficial than the last—from Max, the spoiled rich kid, to lazy, unemployed Libby. They’re loud and rude and obnoxiously crude.
While readers are supposed to feel some sort of sympathy for Kas, who has to deal with this idiot who’s moved himself into her apartment, I just felt sorry for poor William. He’s the butt of every joke and the target of loads of cruelty and sarcasm. Sure, he can’t spell. He can’t write a coherent email to save his life. But he’s also sweet and naïve and well-meaning—and, instead of helping him, Kas and her way-too-cool-for-you friends just mock him.
Granted, I’m with Stupid does have its strong points. It isn’t the same old chick lit story, and it doesn’t end as you might expect. And while the book’s plentitude of random side plots is often unnecessary and distracting (like the spoiled Mexican tube sock heir, who takes a liking to Libby), one involving Max and his completely irrational obsession with getting revenge on Richard is completely hilarious.
Unfortunately, though, those random side plots are necessary—because the main plot is weak. It isn’t well developed—then, out of the blue, things work out, and it’s all over. In the end, nothing has really changed. The three main characters are every bit as shallow as they were in the beginning—and, actually, more characters may have stooped to their level.
Though it’s supposed to be light and funny, I’m with Stupid is really just plain sad. It encourages the irresponsible and superficial, and it ridicules the sweet and innocent. While it does offer an interesting twist on the same old chick lit, it’s poorly executed. And it makes for an excruciating—and even depressing—read.
