Hyped type

>> Vanity Fair columnist Elyssa Schappell hits the right keys with Use Me

by JULIET WATERS

Somehow I formed a very false impression of Elyssa Schappell based on the contributor notes in a Vanity Fair a couple of years ago. Schappell writes VF's "Hot Type," the books column that hypes upcoming releases. Allegedly, she reads over 100 books a month, a factoid about which I was a bit skeptical. None of the books that appear in her column are ever discussed in more than a sentence, and judging from the depth of information she provides, it wouldn't surprise me if she wrote "Hot Type" after an afternoon or two of skimming through blurbs in publishers' catalogues.

But when I thought of how much money Schappell probably makes for her column it hurt. So, to punish her, I decided to actually believe that she read three books a day. Every time I read "Hot Type" I happily indulged an image of her as a dull, red-eyed drone, enslaved in a Manhattan walk-up infested with books. Eventually I even started to feel sorry for her, and from a picture that made her look like a Louise Brooks wannabe, I granted her a slightly dotty, middle-aged vulnerability.

I had low expectations of Schappell's début book, Use Me. Even the title suggested the desperation of someone with no life. Add to this the track record of first-time novelists who have media vehicles called "Hot Type"--i.e. Newsworld's Evan Solomon--and I was pretty confident Use Me would suck. But I took a look at it just to confirm my suspicions.

Okay, so I was wrong. First, when I was forming my impression of Schappell as a middle-aged dullard, I overlooked the pierced nose in her pub shot. Judging from the cultural markers in the life of her narrator, Evelyn Wakefield, I'd put Schappell closer to 30. Second, judging from the craft in these 10 interlocked short stories, Schappell reads a lot and deeply. Her writing has the sophistication and maturity of a pro. Finally, judging from the voice in these stories, the authentic mixture of worldliness and compassion, Schappell comes across as a writer who has really lived.

If Vanity Fair published fiction, they couldn't find a writer more appropriate than Schappell. Her stories are to contemporary literature what a really good VF story is to journalism. Maybe not groundbreaking, but at its best well written, interesting and satisfying. Schappell mixes a tabloid instinct for drama with an equal instinct for those true, recognizable moments that make her characters human.

But above all these are just very fun stories to read. Her plots are compelling, her characters are fucked up, but just short of sensationalistic, and there are moments of genuine poignancy. Use Me follows Evie from jaded know-it-all teenager travelling in France with her baby-boomer parents, to desperate young mother who compensates for the grief over her father's death with an addiction to breast feeding her three-year-old son. Along the way we meet her best friend Mary Beth, a spoiled Manhattan teenager who's had three abortions because she had a crush on her doctor; Evie's idol, Michael, who on the surface is a macho, sadistic writer, yet in reality a closet masochist; and her husband Billie, a sexy, grungy, irresponsible musician who coasts through life, making a windfall from Web site design.

Schappell's stories aren't perfect. She's created characters that are easy to become fascinated with, but that might not stay with you for very long afterwards. But she deserves a spot in a category reserved for very talented, impressive, interesting young writers. And she's certainly worthy of the hype she gives to the books in her column.

Use Me by Elyssa Schappell, William Morrow, hc, 320pp, $34.95