Love Slave

"I can write the pants off any man," declares Sybil Weatherfield, the plucky hero of Jennifer Spiegel’s Love Slave. A literary novel set in 1995 New York, Love Slave follows Weatherfield and her strange friends as they frustrate chick-lit expectations (though they’re unaware that they’re doing so) in this uproarious, genre-breaking spree. By day Sybil is an office temp, and by night she’s a columnist for New York Shock, a chatty rag in which she writes a column called "Abscess" — a wound that never heals. Her friends include a paper-pusher for a human rights organization, and the lead singer of a local rock band called Glass Half Empty. Full of cultural detail, mid-'90s observations, and early adulthood anxieties, Weatherfield’s story of finding love ultimately casts an ironic eye on what it means to be a love slave. It's 1995. Tragically, Sybil Weatherfield is 30 years old. When she can, she works efficiently as an office temp. But in her jobless hours she logs time in the laundromat, waiting for the clubs to open, and fighting off her relenetless desire for the Epic Proportion Pancake Plate at the Pancake Piazza on Lexington Avenue. And when she stops obsessing long enough to consider what's missing in her life, she becomes the frank and fragile writer of "Abscess," a popular confessional column in the alternative weekly, New York Shock. Sybil's friends include Madeline, a paper-pusher for a human rights organization, Rob Shachtley, the wrecked lead singer of a rock band called Glass Half Empty, and a jaded assortment of pierced Quixotes with alternative living arrangements. Eager to leave the City--and desperate to stay--they all try to find a path from their own wry inactivitiy to something real and lasting that can matter to them. -- From cover p. [4] A literary novel set in 1995 New York, Love Slave follows Sybil Weatherfield—her generation's Dorothy Parker—and her strange friends as they defy chick-lit expectations (though they're unaware that they're doing so). Sybil is an office temp by day and a columnist by night for New York Shock, a chatty rag (her column is called “Abscess," which is a wound that never heals). Her friends include a paper-pusher for a human rights organization, and the lead singer of a local rock band called Glass Half Empty. Full of cultural detail, mid-nineties observations, and early adulthood anxieties, it's ultimately an ironic look at what it means to be a love slave.