A Chaotic Dance of Wealth and Woe: My Thoughts on Park Avenue by Renée Ahdieh
Have you ever found yourself so deeply entrenched in a particular genre or theme that it consumes your free time, leading to an obsessive chase for the next perfect read? That was me in the months leading up to my journey with Park Avenue. After a delightful (and somewhat alarming) binge of Succession, my quest for literary escapism had me darting to Pinterest, obsessing over Matthew MacFadyen edits, and ultimately landing on this title, touted as "Succession meets Crazy Rich Asians." All signs pointed toward a riveting exploration of wealth, ambition, and familial drama—at least that’s what I hoped for.
Park Avenue introduces us to Jia Song, a hardworking Korean American attorney whose life takes a dramatic turn when she’s handed a complex case involving a wealthy family embroiled in scandal. The patriarch, Seven Park, faces allegations from his own adult children of money laundering—all while he navigates the chaos of a divorce. Here’s where I found myself pulled into the high-stakes world of the Park family, bubbling with intrigue and drama.
From the outset, Ahdieh’s fast-paced narrative and brief chapters kept me engaged, filled with a tantalizing glimpse into a world where private jets and Michelin-starred dinners are a regular affair. The novelty of witnessing the juxtaposition of wealth and misery felt almost voyeuristic in its allure. And let’s be real—watching the ultra-rich squabble never gets old.
However, my initial enthusiasm took several unexpected turns. I expected sharp dialogue and layered characters, but the writing often felt juvenile, reminiscent of Young Adult fiction rather than an adult contemporary drama. Jia’s character, despite her qualifications, occasionally made choices that left me incredulous. It’s a pet peeve of mine when a supposedly intelligent protagonist behaves as if she has only a single brain cell to share, and my frustration only multiplied as I watched her flounder amidst the Park family chaos.
The romance subplot between Jia and the Park family’s house manager, Darius, struck me as rushed and awkward. Their flirty banter felt forced against the backdrop of a serious legal case and was more distracting than compelling. And then there were the character dynamics between the Park twins, Sora and Suzy, which veered dangerously close to tired tropes, making their unique bond feel disappointingly flat.
But the moment that truly shattered my experience was the bizarre twist at the end, a perplexing turn that felt more like a jumped shark than a satisfying conclusion. I found myself asking, “How did we get here?” instead of reveling in the cleverness of a well-executed plot twist.
There were moments, like Jia’s vivid, sometimes cringe-worthy internal monologues, that made me chuckle out loud—though I’m not sure if that was the intended reaction. For instance, her anger compared to braising meat? Well, let’s just say that analogy left me baffled.
Overall, Park Avenue had so much potential, enticing readers with promises of wealth and family drama akin to its illustrious predecessors. Yet, I felt it was ultimately overshadowed by inconsistent writing and underdeveloped characters. It may find resonance with those who enjoy light reads filled with wealth and drama without the heft of expectations.
I’d recommend this book to those looking for a breezy escape filled with luxury, if they’re willing to overlook its shortcomings. As for me, while I wish for an entertaining exploration of rich people drama, I’ll be diving back into Succession reruns—where the writing is sharper, and the characters are far more engaging. Happy reading, everyone!