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Romantic Comedy (Reese's Book Club): A Novel Hardcover – April 4, 2023
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“Full of dazzling banter and sizzling chemistry.”—People
“If you ever wanted a backstage pass to Saturday Night Live, this is the book for you.”—Zibby Owens, Good Morning America
A BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR: The Washington Post, NPR, USA Today, BuzzFeed, PopSugar, Harper’s Bazaar, Real Simple, She Reads, New York Post
Sally Milz is a sketch writer for The Night Owls, a late-night live comedy show that airs every Saturday. With a couple of heartbreaks under her belt, she’s long abandoned the search for love, settling instead for the occasional hook-up, career success, and a close relationship with her stepfather to round out a satisfying life.
But when Sally’s friend and fellow writer Danny Horst begins dating Annabel, a glamorous actress who guest-hosted the show, he joins the not-so-exclusive group of talented but average-looking and even dorky men at the show—and in society at large—who’ve gotten romantically involved with incredibly beautiful and accomplished women. Sally channels her annoyance into a sketch called The Danny Horst Rule, poking fun at this phenomenon while underscoring how unlikely it is that the reverse would ever happen for a woman.
Enter Noah Brewster, a pop music sensation with a reputation for dating models, who signed on as both host and musical guest for this week’s show. Dazzled by his charms, Sally hits it off with Noah instantly, and as they collaborate on one sketch after another, she begins to wonder if there might actually be sparks flying. But this isn’t a romantic comedy—it’s real life. And in real life, someone like him would never date someone like her . . . right?
With her keen observations and trademark ability to bring complex women to life on the page, Curtis Sittenfeld explores the neurosis-inducing and heart-fluttering wonder of love, while slyly dissecting the social rituals of romance and gender relations in the modern age.
- Print length320 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherRandom House
- Publication dateApril 4, 2023
- Dimensions6.5 x 1.1 x 9.6 inches
- ISBN-100399590943
- ISBN-13978-0399590948
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“A love letter to the prototypical rom-com . . . Sittenfeld’s work exists in the dissection and comprehension of female desire: what we want, what we absolutely don’t and, maybe paramount, what we’re even allowed to have. . . . A fizzy ride.”—The New York Times Book Review (Editors’ Choice)
“From the heart to the funny bone . . . What makes all this particularly delightful is that the woman narrating Romantic Comedy is hyper-aware of the conventions of romantic comedy, and she knows full well that real life is no fairy tale. But could it be this time?”—The Washington Post
“Zingy . . . electrically compelling, with steady warmth as well as drama . . . [Romantic Comedy’s] command of structure, pace and dialogue is faultless. . . . [An] affable, intelligently crafted tale of work and love.”—The Guardian
“If you’re in need of [a] smart, sophisticated, and fun diversion right now (and who isn’t), this is your book. Like her literary foremother Jane Austen, Sittenfeld brings together exquisitely sharp dialogue that fizzes, excruciating sexual tension, and incisive social observation.”—Oprah Daily
“Sittenfeld’s meta-romance is an utterly perfect version of itself, a self-aware and pandemic-informed love story that’s no less romantic for being either. . . . Fans will flock to this pure-fun, feminist romp.”—Booklist (starred review)
“Romance artfully and entertainingly deconstructed.”—Kirkus Reviews
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
April 2018
Weekly Schedule for The Night Owls
Monday 1 p.m. pitch meeting with guest host
Tuesday 5 p.m. start of all-night writing session
Wednesday 12 p.m. deadline for submitted sketches
Wednesday 3 p.m. table read of submitted sketches
Wednesday 9 p.m. preliminary show lineup posted internally
Wednesday night–Saturday morning rehearsals; scripts revised; sets built; special effects designed; hair, makeup, and costumes chosen and created; pre-tapes shot
Saturday 1 p.m. run-through of show
Saturday 8 p.m. dress rehearsal before a live audience
Saturday 11:30 p.m. live show before a new audience
Sunday 1:30 a.m. first after-party
Monday, 1:10 p.m.
For the meeting that marked the official start of that week’s show, I planned to pitch two sketches. But I had three ideas—you could write and submit more but pitch only two—so I’d play by ear which ones I went with, depending on how the guest host reacted to the pitches preceding mine. About forty writers, cast members, and producers were crammed into the seventeenth-floor office of the show’s creator and executive director, Nigel Petersen. Nigel’s seventeenth-floor office—not to be confused with his office on the eighth floor, adjacent to the studio where the show was filmed—was both well-appointed and never intended as a meeting place for anywhere close to forty people. This meant that Nigel sat behind his desk, the host sat in a leather armchair, a few lucky staffers nabbed a place on the sole couch, and everyone else leaned against the wall or sat on the floor.
Nigel started by introducing the host, who, as happened about once per season, was also that week’s musical guest. Noah Brewster had twice in the past been the musical guest, but this was his first time hosting. He was a cheesily handsome, extremely successful singer-songwriter who specialized in cloying pop music and was known for dating models in their early twenties. Though he looked like a surfer—piercing blue eyes, shaggy blond hair and stubble, a big toothy grin, and a jacked body—I’d learned by reading the host bio we were emailed each Monday morning that he’d grown up in a suburb of Washington, D.C. He was thirty-six, the same age I was, and had been famous ever since releasing the hit “Making Love in July” more than fifteen years before, when I was in college. “Making Love in July” was a paean to respectfully taking the virginity of a long-haired girl with “glowy skin,” “a pouty mouth,” and “raspberry nipples,” and it was one of those songs that had for a year played so often on the radio that, in spite of finding it execrable, I accidentally knew all the words. In the time since then, Noah Brewster had won many awards and sold more than twenty million albums, a figure I also had learned from his host bio. It was not a coincidence that his tenth album was being released the following week; hosts, musical guests, and the combinations therein were usually either celebrating newfound fame or promoting imminent work.
After Nigel introduced him, Noah Brewster looked around the room and said, “Thanks for letting a musician crash the comedy party. Hosting TNO has been a lifelong dream, ever since I was a middle school misfit sneaking down to the basement to watch after my parents went to bed.” He smiled his big smile at us, and I wondered if his teeth were real or veneers. After nine years at TNO, I was as accustomed as one could be to interacting with high-wattage celebrities, though it often was surprising to discover who was even better-looking in person (most of them), who was an asshole (not many, but definitely a few), who was shockingly vacuous (the lead from a popular police procedural stood out), and who you wished would stay on the show forever because they were so great in the sketches and also just so fun to hang out with in the middle of the night.
Nigel glanced to his left, where a writer was sitting at his feet, and said, “Benji, why don’t you kick things off?”
Benji pitched a sketch about the former FBI director, James Comey, writing the memoir he’d just published, dictating Dear Diary–style girlish reminiscences. Then a cast member named Oliver said he was working on an idea with Rohit, another writer (it wouldn’t become clear until the read-through of the sketches on Wednesday if this was true or an excuse on Oliver’s part). Then a writer named Lianna pitched a sketch where Noah Brewster would play the token hot straight boy in a high school chorus, then a writer named Tony pitched a sketch where Noah Brewster would play a preppy white guy running for office and guest-preaching in a Black church. Henrietta, who was one of the two cast members I worked with the most, said she and Viv, who was the other cast member I worked with the most, wanted to do a sketch about Internet searches made by dogs. I went sixth.
“I think of this one as The Danny Horst Rule,” I said. “Because it’s inspired by my very own officemate, whose big news I trust we’re all aware of.” Everyone clapped or hooted. Over the weekend, after seven weeks of dating, Danny and Annabel Lily had gotten engaged, as revealed in a post on Annabel’s Instagram account showing a close-up of a ring on her finger, her hand resting atop Danny’s. Celebrity gossip websites immediately reported that the diamond was an emerald-cut halo with a pavé setting, and estimated that the ring had cost $110,000. Although I myself had been married briefly in my twenties, I had no idea what emerald cut, halo, or pavé setting meant—my ex-husband and I had both worn plain gold bands.
As the cheering died down, Danny, who was sitting on the floor two people to my left, said, “Thanks, everyone. And, yeah, pretty f***ing psyched that I get to be Mr. Annabel Lily.” There was another round of cheers, and Danny added, “If you’re wondering, Sally did warn me that she’d be exploiting me to advance her career.”
“I’m trying to convince Danny to write it with me,” I said. “But we’ll put a pin in that for now. Anyway, I want to write about the phenomenon where—sorry, Danny, I really do love you—but where men at TNO date above their station, but women never do.”
There was widespread laughter, though laughter at the pitch meeting could mean you’d revealed your punchlines too early. For this reason, some people pitched only decoys, though I took the risk of sharing my real ideas in order to lay claim to them in case anyone else was considering something similar. And anyway, to a surprising degree, laughter was never the ultimate determinant of a sketch’s fate; Nigel’s whims were. Of the forty or so scripts that would be submitted for Wednesday’s read-through, about twelve sketches would make it to the dress rehearsal Saturday and just eight to the live show. Sketches featuring the host had a better chance of surviving, but beyond that, it was impossible to guess what Nigel would decide. All of us in his office at that moment, cast members and writers alike, had had our hearts broken many times.
“Obviously, Danny should be in the sketch in some capacity,” I added, “either as himself or as someone else. And, Noah, it could work really well if you’re a guy who gets arrested for somehow breaking the rule, like you’re on a date with either Henrietta or Viv made up to look less gorgeous than they are in real life.” Though I was close to Henrietta and Viv, I wasn’t just flattering them. They really were both gorgeous, which wasn’t unusual for female comedians, and they were both so funny that their funniness often obscured their beauty, which also wasn’t unusual for female comedians.
“Just so I understand—” Noah Brewster said, and the confusion on his face made me wonder if he’d turn out to be one of the ding-dongs. I’d never previously spoken to him. The first time he’d been the musical guest had been before I worked at the show, and the second time, I hadn’t had any reason to interact with him. Occasionally, musical guests appeared in sketches, or you could watch them rehearse their songs on Thursday afternoons if you weren’t otherwise occupied, but that didn’t mean you’d meet. “In this sketch,” he said, “I’d be breaking the law because I’m so much better looking than a woman I’m dating?”
There was some chuckling, and a writer named Jeremiah said, “The bail for your hair alone would be a billion dollars.”
Noah’s expression was agreeable as he looked at me and said, “No, I’m really asking.”
“Well, yeah,” I said. “Basically.” I was seated with my back against the west wall of Nigel’s office, about ten feet from Noah, and many of my co-workers were between us.
Noah’s voice remained cheerfully diplomatic as he said, “I’ve always thought it works better when the host is making fun of himself—or herself—instead of mocking other people, so I’m inclined to pass on this one.”
Product details
- Publisher : Random House; First Edition (April 4, 2023)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 320 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0399590943
- ISBN-13 : 978-0399590948
- Item Weight : 1.18 pounds
- Dimensions : 6.5 x 1.1 x 9.6 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #14,983 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #555 in Family Life Fiction (Books)
- #852 in Women's Domestic Life Fiction
- #865 in Contemporary Women Fiction
- Customer Reviews:
About the author
Curtis Sittenfeld is the bestselling author of the novels Prep, The Man of My Dreams, American Wife, and Sisterland, which have been translated into twenty-five languages. Her nonfiction has been published widely, including in The New York Times, The Atlantic, Time, and Glamour, and broadcast on public radio’s This American Life. A native of Cincinnati, she currently lives with her family in St. Louis.
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There are two things that I didn’t mind, but I know might ward some rom com readers off.
1. There is COVID as a secondary plot point. This is actually one of the better renditions I’ve read since the pandemic, but I know a lot of other readers don’t want to read it’s reality. It doesn’t overshadow the story though. It’s actually a really useful tool in the reconnection of our characters.
2. Obviously given the blurb of this book, there are pretty deep feminist undertones. I do think there were two small instances of it teetering on the edge of preachy. It wasn’t distracting or overbearing though. I do love that we got a REAL fmc. 36, divorced, funny, and arbitrarily average!? LOVE IT.
I definitely recommend this read, it just might not be everyone’s jam.
The not-so-good: As the book progresses, the author pivots to romance, which is not one of my favorite genres. OK, yes, I did read the title, “Romantic Comedy,” but I thought it would be mostly about the writing and production of a RomCom, with maybe a little romance between characters as a sub-plot. Instead, the plot became mostly romance and much less about what it takes to be a writer for that type of show. I’m sure it’s a great romance novel for those who appreciate that type of story, but I did not enjoy it.
One last beef: I really grew to dislike the main character, Sally, who is overly needy, and who tries to blow up every good thing that happens to her in the relationship department. I honestly don’t know how anyone could be with her, because she’s so willing to walk out or have a meltdown when the going gets tough. Sally is insecure, annoying, and drama-filled. She needs reassurance, time after time. I realize that the author was taking us on Sally’s journey, but it was just painful to endure so many character flaws.
Curtis Sittenfeld is a god-tier author in my world. When this book was released, I thought I must be on hallucinogens. For a favorite author to have written about my favorite thing- comedy, but specifically, SNL... truly, this felt written just for me. And it doesn't disappoint. The late-30s ages of our main characters. The chemistry! The banter is truly some of the best I've ever read. The (spoiler alert?) summer 2020 time jump pandemic setting and resulting PEN PAL relationship?! I am a sucker for pen pals. An absolute fool for them. And truly, I loved Sally and Noah so much. Sally feels real and anxious and devastatingly smart and so nuanced. Noah is so thoughtful and a real partner to Sally and grounded in reality while being a mega celebrity. Sittenfeld is just stunningly good at character development and Noah feels like a grown up and actualized version of Cross from "Prep", and I loved that feeling. This book is excellent. No notes. A top tier favorite for me.
This book is one of the fastest turnarounds I've ever had from Goodreads discovery to library download and it was fun! As well, this is one of the few pieces of fiction that covered COVID and didn't make me cringe. The other was Superstore, if anyone cares.
I really liked the non-chapter layout, especially the emails in Part 2. It helped me feel the frenetic pace of not-SNL as well as the digital connections during COVID, stuck in a screen.
Sally definitely has insecurities and Noah has pride, but a lot of patience. He's not perfect but he's vulnerable enough that his near-perfection isn't annoying.
I kept this book at four stars only because it got a TAD preachy. Yes, Sally's cultural and political views inform her writing. Yes, SNL was always a place of cultural and political commentary. But beyond the relationship and class dynamics at play, the author (through Sally) went a bit overboard. Gender pay disparity, black maternal mortality, alcoholism. Too many causes flying around!
Anyway, the romance builds with slow heat through physical attraction, funny banter, and genuine intelligent rapport. Much fewer words to look up in the dictionary than "Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow", so there's that!
Romantic Comedy offers a behind-the-scenes look at working at an SNL-style comedy show & features believable, mature, clever and driven characters. This book was equal parts smart & fun - I’d definitely recommend adding it to your TBR!
Thanks to Random House Publishing & NetGalley for the ARC!
Top reviews from other countries
I liked that Noah was not the cliche of celeb/pop star hero that so often feels shallow and not realistic when depicted in books. In this case, both he and Sally were drawn convincingly. Both were likeable, but somehow neither had ever met a person they could have a long-term real and satisfying relationship with. They were attracted from the start, but it did take a while for things to develop between them. I fully enjoyed the journey, and I was completely sucked in to their lives and their story. For me, a very enjoyable read.