Helen Ellis’ American Housewife is the book I didn’t know I was looking for. This collection of short stories is a hilarious take on modern women. Helen Ellis is a talented and viciously entertaining storyteller whose heroines have claws beneath their clean white gloves. The satire found in American Housewife is a refreshing look at today’s women and pop culture. Below, I’ve given brief summaries of the stories found in this book. By the time you’re through, I bet you’ll have a copy of American Housewife waiting in your Amazon cart.

Helen Ellis is as funny in 140 characters or less as she is in print, so if you like what you see here, take a look at her Twitter. She might even send you a sweet DM thanking you for the follow – as would any true lady.

 

What I Do All Day

Serving as an introduction to American Housewife, this story answers the age-old question stay-at-home moms are faced with: “What do you do all day?” The narrator walks through the motions of her day, peppered with tongue-in-cheek humor and pop culture references.

“Inspired by Beyoncé, I stallion-walk to the toaster. I show my husband a burnt spot that looks like the island where we honeymooned, kiss him goodbye, and tell him what time to be home for our party…” – What I Do All Day

 

The Wainscoting War

Told in a series of emails between neighboring residents of an upscale apartment building, “The Wainscoting War” is a vicious battle of old money versus new money. The story begins with a passively aggressive thank-you email for a welcome basket and escalates to outrageous heights as an argument over the shared hallway’s décor emerges.

“Hi neighbor! Thank you for the welcome basket you left outside our apartment door. My husband and I don’t eat pineapples because my life coach has us on an all-protein diet, but we appreciate the gesture. We gave the pineapples to the super, who said he’d ask his wife to ask you for your recipe for pineapple-glazed ham. Apparently you make on every Easter that makes the elevator shaft smell like a barbeque. WOW!” – The Wainscoting War

 

Dumpster Diving with the Stars

The unnamed narrator, known only as “the writer,” is an out-of-print novelist competing on a reality show called Dumpster Diving with the Stars. The TV show, hosted by a man referred to as “F’in Tiny,” is a competition to find valuable antiques amongst junk in yard sales, estate auctions, and small town second-hand shops. “The Writer” competes against a Playboy bunny, a beach-read author named Amy Madeline, John Lithgow, Mario Batali, married Scientologist actors, the couple from a TV show called Nightcrawlers, and a leggy female professional tennis player. Filming lasts a month long, which is more than enough time for the smorgasbord of actors to make friends and foes. “Dumpster Diving with the Stars” magnifies the ridiculous nature of reality television and those who participate (contestants and viewers alike).

“I’m in Rhinebeck, New York, to compete on Dumpster Diving with the Stars. It was my best friend Amy Madeline’s idea. In the history of celebrity reality shows, there has never been a contestant who is famous for being an author.” – Dumpster Diving with the Stars

 

Southern Lady Code

An Alabama native turned New Yorker, Helen Ellis is well versed in Southern mannerisms. Ellis demystifies the magnolia-scented vernacular that masks the casually cruel nature of Southern women in her iconic witty fashion.

“’Is this too dressy?’ is Southern Lady code for: I look fabulous and it would be in your best interest to tell me so.” – Southern Lady Code

 

Hello! Welcome to Book Club

This story is written in second person, which means that YOU get to be a character! Your hostess, Mary Beth, introduces you to the cast of characters who make up Book Club (using only their secret Book Club names, of course!). You learn their secrets, their gossip, their book club culture, and why they are all wearing matching Talbots bunny brooches.

“Hello! Welcome to Book Club. I’m your hostess. My Book Club name is Mary Beth. We all have Book Club names at Book Club. Why, dear? Well, really, why not?” – Hello! Welcome to Book Club

 

The Fitter

Imagine that your husband’s job is to watch women bounce up and down, topless. Now, imagine that these are women you know – friends, neighbors, ladies from church… They line up outside your door, eager for your husband to undress them. Imagine that you must be there to witness it, and you are even asked to help. Sound like a worst nightmare realized? Helen Ellis brings this nightmare to life in “The Fitter,” a story about a man in small town Georgia with a gift for bra fitting and his jealous wife.

“The Fitter is mine. Myrtle Babcock can get her flabby pancake tits out of his face. He’s sizing her up in her ill-fitting turtleneck that’s off-white and thin because it’s been through the wash too many times. Her ‘nude’ athletic bra shows through like she’s smuggling ferrets. Here’s what, sister: every woman needs underwire, and when you stuff two pounds of downsized rounds into A-cups, beige ain’t invisible.” – The Fitter

 

How to be a Grown-Ass Lady

Helen Ellis gives practical advice in “How to be a Grown-Ass Lady,” denying and defying the pressure to conform to perfection. Give it a read – it’s refreshing.

“Compliment everyone. Take a compliment. Wear sunscreen on your face and hands even when it’s cloudy. Dye your gray hair black, brown, or blond. Run the dishwasher half full. Have company over and serve what you want to eat. When a guest says your meat loaf looks like a football, don’t tell the woman that her husband is obviously gay.” – How to be a Grown-Ass Lady

 

How to be a Patron of the Arts

In a similar spirit to “How to be a Grown-Ass Lady,” Helen Ellis writes from the perspective of an expert on “How to be a Patron of the Arts.” I say that she is an expert on the subject because Helen Ellis is familiar with the high-brow world she describes in this story and her instructions read as though directed at a younger version of herself. This story is a highly amusing take on New York City’s society.

“Step 1: Take your husband’s money. He will offer it to you six years after your first novel is published. You refused to marry him until that first novel sold. Then you spent those six years writing a second novel while you held on to your secretarial job so you wouldn’t get a big head about your literary success or lose yourself in marriage. Your literary success was three reprints and a spot in Vogue’s “What People Are Talking About.” Marriage is a soft place full of three-thousand-dollar couches and twenty-eight-dollar bottles of wine.” – How to be a Patron of the Arts

 

Dead Doormen

Another playful poke at New York City’s society, “Dear Doormen” is a crime story about suicidal apartment workers, which isn’t nearly as dreary as it sounds. The narrator marries into an immaculate apartment with a great deal of responsibility. She explains how she won over her mother-in-law by skillfully spot-cleaning red wine out of a carpet – an act that earned her the family five-carat engagement ring the very next day. The narrator is in charge of keeping the apartment spotless and keeping those who help behind the scenes in line. “Dead Doormen” is wonderfully suspenseful with an exquisitely gruesome ending.

“Being a wife is a commitment. I get up before my husband. I pour coffee from the coffeemaker and pull sliced melon from the fridge. I place the melon on family china. I place the plate on an antique tray. I serve my husband breakfast in bed. Well, maybe serve isn’t the right word I’m supposed to use in this day and age, but I don’t know what else I would call it. Bring?” – Dead Doormen

 

Pageant Protection

“Aunt Mandy” runs a witness protection program for pageant girls who want to escape their crazed mommies who dance along to their talent routines off-stage. The Pageant Protection program transports girls away from their small towns to New York City, where they are adopted into new families that don’t force them into the tanning booths. Told in the second person, “Aunt Mandy” explains to YOU, as you are driving northbound on side streets, the steps she takes to get YOU a new mommy and daddy. “Pageant Protection” satirizes the world of pageantry and starkly contrasts the glittery world of beauty queens with the world of private-school-plaid.

“Listen up. We’ve got exactly four minutes before they notice you’re not backstage with the other contestants. In eight minutes, they’ll lock down the Radisson. In twenty, they’ll issue an Amber Alert. So get in the van. Hunch down. Take off your dress. There’s a T-shirt and shorts under the front seat. Wipe off your makeup and take off that wig. Put on that wig. Stay down! Don’t look in the rearview mirror. I can assure you, sweetie, you look like a boy. I’m sorry, but that’s part of the drill. Remember, you asked for this and I’m here to help.” – Pageant Protection

 

Take it from Cats

This brief but nonetheless entertaining passage teaches life lessons learned from the behavior of cats. Helen Ellis puts you in the shoes of cats and sympathizes with their unusual and often inconvenient behavior.

“If someone moves to make room for you, take up more room. If someone is looking over there, there’s something to see. If somebody sneezes, run. If someone brings a bag into your home, look inside it. If you don’t want someone to leave, sit on his suitcase.” – Take it from Cats

 

My Novel is Brought to You by the Good People at Tampax

If you can get a man to read this one, let me know. I have yet to find one. The title alone keeps them at bay. In a dystopic world where writers are sponsored the way athletes and actor are, a struggling writer is on a deadline to produce a novel that mentions Tampax tampons from time to time. With the pressure of adhering to a contract that she did not read, the narrator finds it increasingly difficult to produce her work, causing her account manager, Lisa, to enforce tighter and tighter boundaries. Without giving too much away, I will tell you this: Big Sister is watching.

“My novel is sponsored by Tampax. It’s the story of three generations of women and spans three decades. That’s a lot of menstruation. So every time a character rides the cotton pogo stick – Voilà! Tampax.” – My Novel is Brought to You by the Good People at Tampax

 

Eat: Pigs-in-Blankets

Drink: Poirot Punch