In the latest — perhaps the last — instalment of the Shopaholic series, Shopaholic to the Rescue, Becky Brandon takes a road-trip across the American West in search of her father, who has suddenly gone off on a mysterious mission involving a friend from the past. On the one hand, Becky’s mum is convinced that there must be another woman in her husband’s life; on the other, Becky’s best friend Suze is hysterical because not only has her husband Tarkie disappeared along with Becky’s dad, but so has Bryce, an unscrupulous character who may be manipulating Tarkie. So what can Becky do but marshal a trailer full of people to track down these missing persons?

The would-be rescuers include her husband Luke, her daughter Minnie, her mum, her mum’s best friend Janice, her best friend Suze, and her arch-nemesis Alicia.

The ‘searching for my bolted dad’ part of the book is a bit of a MacGuffin: one can’t see the compulsion to drop everything and track down Walter Bloomwood, after he has left a note explaining that he will be back in a few days anyway. Shopaholic to the Rescue is not based on the most robust premise: What does Becky’s Dad need rescuing from? Why isn’t he talking to her mum? Why did he choose to stir up such a panic over telling a convenient and plausible lie? Irrelevant questions, all of them, since nobody ever picked up a Sophie Kinsella book for its punch-in-the-gut realism, and this rather implausible set-up does its job of providing ample space for the hijinks that follow. Hyperbolic scenarios, theatrical dialogue and amusing escapades abound and those who have been loyal Shopaholic fans will happily settle down to the familiar tenor of the narrative. In a particularly amusing scene Becky, disguised as a world-renowned French potter, tells an artist, “Form is dead,” followed by the internal remark, “Perfect. If form’s dead, I don’t have to talk about it.”

The latest in the Shopaholic series has its redeeming points, but lacks the punch of the previous novels

Even when she’s not at her sharpest, Kinsella’s comic timing doesn’t falter, and she’s on point with laugh-out-loud passages such as these:

“[Janice’s] money ‘safety’ belt is protruding like a pregnancy bump at the front of her top. She and mum are wearing identical models, and if you ask me, they look exactly like an advert to a mugger: Stacks of Cash Here.”

As usual, Becky’s internal monologues are hilarious:

“I hadn’t even thought about shaving years off my age. Anyway, surely the most sensible thing is to pretend to be older than you are? And then everyone says, ‘Wow, you look amazing for 93!’ when you’re only 70 … ”

But even die-hard fans will admit that either Kinsella is unable to recreate the ebullience of her earlier books, or our own familiarity with the conventions she employs has robbed her novels of the freshness so essential to the success of this type of storytelling. What, at one point, was alchemy is now just a formula.

It is a testament to Kinsella’s considerable narrative skills though that she never loses the plot and knows just when to appeal to readerly nostalgia, adding sweet epistolary touches from Becky’s bank manager Derek Smeath, a character whose changing relationship with Becky shows how far she has come.

Notwithstanding the title, it is no longer accurate to refer to her as a Shopaholic. Standing inside a boots shop in Tuscon, Becky feels sick at the very thought of making a purchase. Many of us will instantly recast their mind to the time when Becky resorted to borrowing money from Luke Brandon (whom she hated at that point) to buy a scarf on sale. Her enthusiasm about ‘cute’ products and her excitement at dressing up and recreating a celebrity look used to be one of the vicarious if vapid pleasures of Shopaholic.

What made Becky a worthy heroine was that, while infatuated by glamour, she was not — unlike many of her chick-lit counterparts (the odious socialites from The Debutante Divorcee come to mind) — defined solely by it. Girlish prerogatives aside, she could snap back to reality and spring into action, and the warmth of her relationships pointed to the basic integrity of her character. This, combined with her foibles, made her relatable and lovable. Now though, what were once her redeeming features are her only features: she has conquered her vices entirely, conclusively overpowered her shopping demons, and is no longer suited to the role of chick-lit heroine, a fact that Shopaholic to the Rescue amply underscores. This is a good way to end the Shopaholic series.

The reviewer is a Karachi-based freelance writer and critic.

Shopaholic to the Rescue
(CHICK-LIT)
By Sophie Kinsella
Bantam Press
ISBN 978-0593074633
315pp.