You Know You Love Me is the second installment in Cecily von Ziegesar’s wildly successful Gossip Girl series, and although I still feel mildly embarrassed about reading these books, it is a small improvement on the first novel. The characters, their personalities and ranking in their social system now familiar, continue to play out their superficial dramas in the Upper East Side. Alongside the ubiquitous references to sex, alcohol, brands and bitchiness, the tribulations of college interviews, young romantic love and the pressures of the final school year add a level of verisimilitude that was missing from the first novel. And manages to add just a touch of reality for those of us that led a decidedly less chaotic adolescence.

Welcome to New York City’s Upper East Side, where my friends and I all live in huge, fabulous apartments and go to exclusive private schools. We aren’t always the nicest people in the world, but we make up for it in looks and taste.

Blair Waldorf is still an excruciatingly spoiled brat. Her mother Eleanor is gearing up for her wedding to the so not up to Blair’s standards, Cyrus Rose, and to further disappoint Blair, has announced the wedding will take place the same day as Blair’s all-important eighteenth birthday. Add to that, her attempts to lose her virginity – although her constant mentions of “doing it” in place of any actual reference to the sexual act itself grates on the nerves, and adds immaturity to her character. I wonder if this is to appease the teen audiences or (cough) intentional characterization – with her altogether unwilling boyfriend, the perpetually stoned Nate. Blair sees consumption and material gifts as the ultimate signs of her love. When her credit card is declined as her mother joins bank accounts with her fiancé, Blair steals a pair of cashmere pajama pants for Nate in order to show just how much he means to her. Nate, despite existing in a permanently drugged haze, recognizes this for what it is: a blatant demand for his attention toward her. Nate, meanwhile, is avoiding Blair and nurturing a rather sweet blossoming relationship with Jennifer Humphrey.

This was definitely not in the script.
And as she looked on in horror and fascination, Blair had the most starkly disappointing realization of her entire life. Worse even than the thought of not getting into Yale.
Nate wasn’t her leading man. He wasn’t going to sweep her off her feet and love her and only er. He was just a supporting actor, some loser who would drop off the screen before the final act. And if that was the case, she definitely didn’t want him.

Serena van der Woodsen is spending more time with Dan Humphrey, who pines and moans even when he has the girl of his dreams. Thankfully, Serena becomes suitably creeped out by Dan’s Young Werther shtick (although, apparently that kind of thing works for some: see Goethe as a seduction strategy!) and distances herself from him; he then realizes that Vanessa is the one he’s really supposed to be with – ah, that old “oh I’m really in love with my best friend, the artsy alternative girl with the shaved head and not the model-esque, impossibly perfect dream girl!” trope coming into play – Vanessa is clearly the most interesting character out of the lot of them, I wish she had more of a central role.

In between all the romantic entanglements, the kids go on separate and converging road trips to their desired college destinations; mostly spectacularly flubbing the interviews. Blair bonds with her new stepbrother, the potentially interesting Aaron Rose, and despite breaking down in her important application interview, a sweetly worded email to Daddy and a swift generous donation are sure to undo any necessity for hard work and effort. It’s this sort of reliance on money and its powers that contradict Blair’s drive to achieve perfection. Is it solely ambition? Or the desire to work for what she receives rather than have everything handed to her on a silver platter? An inferiority complex? Just completely unable to comprehend personal failure on any level? Apparently this conundrum is what makes Blair Waldorf such a multi-faceted character, although I’m not entirely convinced.

While it is very easy to get caught up on the lackluster writing (why does Blair’s middle name change from Faith to Cornelia toward the end of the book? Why the reliance on a gossip blog which only discusses the same six characters over and over, is the world of the Upper East Side teenagers so inane that they are only really interested in a handful of their peers?) and the trash value of the series, You Know You Love Me allows for a few hours of escapism into the petty, often spiteful world of the over-privileged children of the wealthy.