Now an adult, Debbie and her girlfriends reveal what women really say when men aren't around. Oh dear . . .!
Now an adult on L-plates, Debbie and her girlfriends reveal what women talk about when there are no men around. Prepare yourself for full-frontal comedic camaraderie.
After breaking off with both her best friend and boyfriend, Debbie runs away to the inner-city world of punk rock, dodgy jobs, new mates and R-rated adventures.
It’s the kaleidoscopic 1980s, a time of perms, shoulder pads, Blondie and Bowie, prawn cocktails, fondue parties and mistaking promiscuity for feminism. The blokes are laughing all the way to the sperm bank – of course they’re for ‘free love’ as they don’t have to pay for it.
Preyed upon by married men and misogynistic bosses, girlfriends are the only people you can rely on. Debbie’s female pals are her human Wonderbras – uplifting and supportive. But it’s not until the girls’ night out that these friends really peel off to their emotional undies … And it’s a psychological striptease which reveals some jaw-dropping truths.
With equal parts humour and pathos, Kathy Lette, one of the pioneering voices of contemporary feminism, exposes all the fun and foolish things girls do when scrabbling to find their high-heeled feet in the world.
“After the Blues, returns the setting to Australia and is a kind of follow-up to Puberty Blues. The surfie chicks, now older, are still struggling through relationships with men of epic insensitivity, very few of whom are aware of a different era. The book’s various chapters are written in different styles: first and third person, letters and a diary. The theme — of failed and failing relationships — and the humour found among even the most depressing situations provides the unity. Perhaps the most remarkable chapter is the first-person anecdote, Free Kick. Something of a literary tour de force, it is in the form of a revelation by a football groupie of the rules and the reality of the situation. Perhaps a few of Lette’s quips become a little wearing but most strike me as acute.”
Bruce Beresford, The Australian