Fay Weldon’s latest novel, The Spa, is full of all the biting humor and glittering prose that made her name. Always sharp tongued and occasionally libidinous, it offers a glimpse of the despairs and dalliances of a set of high-powered women who have burned paths throughand sometimes been burned bytheir worlds and the men in them. It is the week between Christmas and New Year’s, and ten high-achieving ladies are gathered at the expensive Castle Spa, seeking to rejuvenate themselves with Botox, aromatherapy, and all-around pampering. They lounge around in the Jacuzzi, sipping champagne, and telling each other the stories of their lives. The Trophy Wife recounts her spell in a Greek prison; the Brain Surgeon tells of twins and mistaken identity; the Judge describes a sex change that allowed him to judge the pleasures of the bedroom from both male and female perspectives; and the Stepmother remembers her unforgettable story, a reversal of Cinderella’s, with the stepmother fated to play the victim. The Spa is a darkly funny sketch of a group of women who, despite prejudice, imprisonment, domestic catastrophes and romantic debacles, have risen to the top of their respective worlds.
