I was complimented for having “good energy”, and my “niches” were identified as “women” and “books”. I regularly listened to horrifying conversations on mute. (In Hollywood, assistants listen in on all of their boss’s phone calls.) I was privy for the first time to private conversations among men. I heard sexist and racist comments and fumed silently, exchanging outraged instant messages with other assistants. We were all frustrated, mad, appalled. But so what? Who cared? To whom could we complain? To what end? This is a book inexplicably set in 2012. You can tell by all the references to political things happening at the time and a few song descriptions. I kept waiting for that to be relevant but it never was. It added literally nothing. The rare kind of read that made me giggle just as much as it left me gutted." - Zakiya Dalila Harris My own novel is currently on submission for screen adaptation. If I am fortunate enough that people are interested in adapting it, I may be faced with a dilemma: what if someone I know to be part of the problem, someone who I encountered in my previous job or have heard about through the whisper network, wants to buy it? Will I be principled enough to say no? Will I try to convince myself that if they are interested in supporting a critique of Hollywood, the ends will justify the means? Do I actually care enough about these systemic issues or am I also, in a way, exploiting them as literary material for my own professional gain? How can I separate my desire to raise awareness and increase discussion about complicity in Hollywood from my desire to be one of the voices in the conversation? Does it count for anything that I am asking myself these questions or no, not really? I have more questions than answers. I’m not sure if asking them out loud is useful, but it’s a start, and it feels more productive than silence.

Readers who were obsessed with My Dark Vanessa, this one is for you. A blistering look at the hidden side of Hollywood Glamour, 'BEST NEW BOOKS' Blisteringly sharp, hypersmart, and compulsively readable―meet Isabel Kaplan’s searing debut novel about a young woman trying to succeed in Hollywood without selling her soul. Frank, funny and unputdownable, Isabel Kaplan's NSFW takes you on an ambitious young woman's wild ride through Hollywood. Her mother's a famous feminist lawyer, and she's a rising executive star, mistress of her destiny. But behind the glitter and the justice, everyone is tarnished and compromised - including even our narrator. Kaplan, with her sharp and nuanced eye, sees it all, and tells it brilliantly. Claire Messud You know the rules of this world. When someone senior tells you how pretty you look, you smile and thank him - and make a mental note never to wear that dress alone with him again. This month, when my book was published in the US, he sent me a congratulatory message, saying how thrilled he was for my success. He has definitely not read the book; I don’t know if he has read the description. If he has, he must not have thought my critique of the patriarchy in Hollywood might include him.I found the protagonist here to be unbearable, the story difficult to care about, and the #metoo theme forced, as if the author wrote this book because she wanted to capitalize on the movement and threw together a copycat and clichéd way to make it happen. A frank account of leaning in and its inherent filthiness. Kaplan captures the psychological, and at times literal, gymnastics required of striving women Raven Leilani, New York Times bestselling author of Luster

A frank study of the psychological, and at times literal, gymnastics that are required of striving women' RAVEN LEILANI, bestselling author of LUSTER They know you need to be thoughtful about what you say. Some of them now begin sentences with, “I probably shouldn’t say this anymore, but...” And she knows too well what men are capable of. Her mother is a veteran feminist campaigner, a lawyer who now practises corporate law but who once fought a public battle for the rights of women who had been assaulted or raped.Our narrator just graduated from Harvard and is the daughter of a prominent attorney known best for her work representing women in sexual assault and harassment cases. It is because of this pedigree that she is able to go to one of her mother's good friends, the head of development in fictional network XBC, to get a job. While it's a low level assistant position, she has also skipped a few years of even worse work to get there. She is ambitious and we get to see her work in detail, so if you do enjoy that kind of behind the scenes look this has a lot of that. A book with a title like NSFW is practically daring you to read it, especially at work. YOLO. But NSFW is more than a book with a buzzy title; it's also an incredibly ambitious and timely novel about rape culture, and what working in Hollywood was like prior to the widespread progression of the #MeToo movement in 2017 following the Harvey Weinstein allegations. From my perch outside my boss’s office, I saw how little my personal opinion mattered, how interchangeable and dispensable I was. I told myself that someday, when I had enough power that people cared what I had to say, I would make a stand for what was right. In a simple sense, NSFW comments on how insidious rape culture is and how it’s particularly perpetuated in the workplace, both consciously and unconsciously, by both men and women. The novel places a focus on the complicity of both men and women – but more interestingly, the complicity of women. It’s kind of expected that men will never say anything because they’re ‘protecting their own’ or don’t see it as a problem that affects them – so then is the women’s responsibility to do something because ‘women support women?’ What role do women play in this corrupt system when they turn a blind eye to accusations against their male family members or friends, when they shrug it off because ‘he’s never done anything to me’. But then again, how can women be tasked with fixing a broken, patriarchal system that they didn’t create in the first place? Shouldn’t men be the ones who step forward and use their position to create change?

Isabel Kaplan’s novel about the “toxic underbelly” of the Hollywood TV system has gone to Penguin Michael Joseph (PMJ). At first, the high adrenaline work environment motivates her, yet as she climbs the ranks, she confronts the reality of creating change from the inside. Her points only get attention when echoed by male colleagues. She hears whispers of abuse and sexual misconduct. Her mother says to keep her head down until she’s the one in charge―a scenario that seems idealistic at best, morally questionable at worst.Also, this is just an aside, but the main character never showed any desire to actually be in the TV industry. I was confused why she was putting up with any of this when she didn’t really even seem to care. The more I share about our relationship and breakup, the more vindicated he will feel in his fears. But if I don’t write about it, he succeeds in forcing my silence. If I don’t go into enough detail, the story won’t resonate with people who have experienced similar dynamics, but if I share too much, I run the risk of coming across as bitter and vengeful. I can’t prove I wouldn’t have written about the relationship had it not ended in this way, just like I can’t prove I wouldn’t write about a child I don’t have. It’s a trap.

I left my job at the TV network to go to graduate school, during which time I wrote a novel about a Hollywood assistant and the slippery slope of complicity. When I wrote the novel, I didn’t know if I would return to working in Hollywood. I wrote it as if I wouldn’t, with all the emotional honesty I could muster. Since the protagonist was unnamed, it was easy to put myself in her shoes despite not having anything in common with her. The ending also more or less leaves things up to the reader’s interpretation. I thought this was an interesting way of showing that these things can happen to any woman. I know how it sounds to suggest my boyfriend dumped me because he’s scared I’ll become like Nora Ephron. You’re thinking: that’s what you’re going with? Or maybe: what’s her name? A frank account of the inherent filthiness of leaning in. A study of the psychological, and at times literal, gymnastics that are required of striving women. Raven Leilaini The compulsively readable debut novel about a young woman trying to succeed in Hollywood without selling her soul - perfect f or fans of Sweetbitter, My Dark Vanessa and Exciting TimesThe ability to bend an inch at a time while seeming to stand up straight is a useful and gendered skill. Most women I know do it regularly. They bend until they’re pretzeled and then blame themselves for the body aches. I’ve thought a lot about these dynamics. I wrote a whole book exploring them. And yet. There I was. Frank, funny and unputdownable . . . behind the glitter and the justice, everyone is tarnished and compromised - including even our narrator. Kaplan, with her sharp and nuanced eye, sees it all, and tells it brilliantly Claire Messud, New York Times bestselling author of The Woman Upstairs When whispers start to circle that your office might have 'a bit of a rape problem,' and your close friend confesses her own unsettling encounter, you know there is plenty to gain from staying silent, and all too much to lose through speaking out. This book captures that feeling of your early 20's so well, when you start to feel like you are in over your head, when you realize that all the things you thought you knew about yourself and your family and the world may not be true. But that didn’t make sense. He first broke up with me a few years ago because I wasn’t successful and independent enough. He wanted a partner, not a wife, he said.