Throughout time, social class and ambition have sparked the inspiration of writers and the interest of readers, from Sophocles' Oedipus and Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth to Austen's Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzgerald's Gatsby. Despite the current wave of economic turmoil and the greater struggle to achieve the "American Dream," this continues to be a fascinating topic of fiction, especially for New York Times reporter Stephanie Clifford, whose debut novel, Everybody Rise, is being compared to the works of Edith Wharton and Tom Wolfe.
Clifford's protagonist, 26-year-old Evelyn Beegan, lives an upper-middle-class existence, dallying around the outer edges of the Old Money set, mingling with them, but never quite belonging. Evelyn attended Sheffield, an elite boarding school, relocated to New York City and took a job recruiting socialite movers and shakers for an exclusive social media start-up called People Like Us (PLU)--what her father describes as "another way [for the upper class] to cut itself off from everyone else." But even her school friendships don't prepare her for this segment of society ruled by strict codes and mores:
"[Evelyn] wasn't sure what they cared about, other than money and keeping out the hoi polloi, and she had no idea what she was supposed to say to any of them, and she was going to return to PLU a total failure... she certainly couldn't sign them up. Evelyn felt like there was a large neon arrow over the fireplace pointing down to her and blinking OUTCAST - OUTCAST - OUTCAST."
That feeling doesn't deter her, though. Justifying it as necessary for her job, Evelyn forces herself to join in on weekend trips, benefits, galas and posh affairs that are far beyond her means. Clifford's depiction of the American gentry practically reeks with the mustiness of ancient currency, from the descriptions of their homes and fashion to their authentic dialogue and customs. The stark contrast with the rest of society is illuminated as she takes Evelyn through a metamorphosis befitting Cinderella on the night of the royal ball:
"At night, once she left PLU, it was like she stepped into an enchanted world. She knew the codes now; she could step up to a bar and order a Cockburn's port and pronounced it 'Coburn's' and get an impressed look from the bartender. She said 'cottages' for Maine and 'cabins' for Jackson Hole (which was just 'Jackson') and 'camps' for the Adirondacks."
It isn't long before Evelyn's focus is less about her career ambition and more about her personal ambition. Clifford expertly develops Evelyn's addiction to her aspirations. The young woman who starts out resisting her mother's beauty recommendations evolves into a fashionista and an expert on debutante ball etiquette. Readers will cringe as Evelyn alienates her true friends and allows her growing need for acceptance to destroy her best qualities. Her whole world perspective goes out of focus.
After she's fired for prioritizing her social life over her employer's expectations, Evelyn explains to her father, "I think it's really hard to keep up with modern life and work all the time. It's sort of one or the other." She's confident her parents will help maintain her keeping-up-with-the-Vanderbilts lifestyle until she can secure her rightful place among the crème de la crème.
To achieve her objective, Evelyn must convince this particular jet set she's entitled, one of them--it's less about having money and more about having the right bloodline. As Evelyn points out to her Sheffield friend Charlotte, "I'm just saying that as all these colleges and clubs and whatnot open up to literally anyone who can buy their way in, and even to people who get in on their own merits, then maybe people still want somewhere where family and tradition and --" Charlotte finishes for her with a sarcastic, "Insularity and aristocracy still reign?"
Evelyn will not be swayed. She starts by inventing a history through her mother's family line. One lie leads to another, and with each subsequent tale, the deceit is easier to continue but challenging to maintain.
Evelyn's goal becomes even more precarious when she learns that her father--a high-profile lawyer specializing in pharmaceutical lawsuits--is being investigated by a grand jury for bribing witnesses. Like Jane Austen's Mrs. Bennett, the social-climbing Barbara Beegan pushes her daughter to find a husband of means and to waste no time doing it: Evelyn needs to be safeguarded if anything happens to her father's money. Little does she know her father's situation is the least of what should concern her.
In the words of "Ladies Who Lunch," the song containing the book's title, Everybody Rise is "another brilliant zinger" that puts the fine line of ambition under the societal microscope to examine where it turns from laudable to destructive. Timeless. Universal. I'll drink to that. --Jen Forbus