It is the early 1970s and Sandy Pressman is bored with her life. Her children are away at camp for the summer and her busy life is suddenly not so busy. It all starts with a naked man on a motorcycle… and yes, I am being literal here. The book Wifey is about a woman who suddenly wonders if there’s more to life than what she’s getting and maybe she’s tired of being a good girl.
I couldn’t connect with any of the characters, let alone Sandy, who I found to be, I’m sorry, kind of skanky, dumb and immature. Maybe it’s because of the year the book was set in but a woman who is in an unhappy marriage, sleeping around and constantly daydreaming about sex with random men just doesn’t seem RIGHT. Her husband, Norman, is a total jerk who basically just wants her to be the “good little wifey” and do everything right so as not to look bad in front of their friends at the Club and all of her female friends are just as screwed up. I feel like this novel is incredibly dated and maybe that’s why I didn’t like it. But I’ve read other books from this era and haven’t had that problem.
The only reason I won’t give this book a total F is because I did finish it. But honestly, I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. And I’m pretty disappointed in Judy Blume.