At forty, Claire Fordham is at a crossroads. The divorced British mom
has raised two mostly well-adjusted kids and worked as a journalist. But
after a lifetime of looking after everyone else, she's ready to live a
bit. So she says goodbye to England and moves to L.A. to live with her
sister, respected songwriter Julia Fordham. Her first job is taking care
of Julia's highly neurotic dog, Muttley, a "four-legged freak of
nature" who, when he isn't destroying her shoes or mounting anything on
legs, compulsively licks his anus. Welcome to Hollywood.
follows is a year-long, laugh-out-loud story of a stranger in a very,
very strange land. As Julia's "Plus One"--the nameless guest invited to
openings and parties--Claire experiences life in the shadow of celebrity
in a town where nothing is too surreal. From clairvoyants who get
everything wrong, partygoers who are disappointed that Claire and Julia
are sisters, not lesbians, Pink Witch parties, legendary icons in the
garden, and people whose pets have their own lawyers on retainer to
meeting Hollywood royalty, inventing fantasy boyfriends, playing roadie
in exotic locales, falling for the wrong guys and possibly meeting the
right man, Claire's on a rollercoaster ride in which no dream is too
wild, no adventure too outrageous, and no information too personal to
divulge over fashionable coffee. And in a town where anything can happen
and usually does, Claire might just find everything she ever wanted. .
.if she can survive it.
Candid, ribald, and sweetly optimistic, Plus One is a delicious tale of Tinseltown insanity and one woman's journey from Hollywood Nobody to somebody in her own right.
"Claire Fordham is the funniest writer on the planet. I'd have her
assassinated but that would only increase the sales of her howlingly
hilarious memoir, Plus One. She's the real-life Bridget
Jones--only funnier, more beautiful, and with a baggie of dog shit in
her hand."--Augusten Burroughs
"Plus One made me weep with
laughter. I couldn't put it down and I didn't want it to end. By the
time I reached the story about the lost condom, I was crying, and my
ribs ached. Very few books have ever made me laugh this hard. A