Although Karen Yampolsky purports to have written this book, it's clear to anyone with a good memory of Sassy and/or Jane that this is the (very thinly veiled) story of Jane Pratt herself as told to Ms. Yampolsky.
The book is very simply written and thus easy to read. It doesn't really have much narrative pull, as it's basically just Jane yammering I did this, then I did that. It's not really fiction so much as it is a blog-like memoir. Jane's obviously quite impressed with her star-studded life and has very little self-awareness of how she might appear to others. She constantly talks about how Jane was this groundbreaking women's magazine that was ruined by moving to a new publishing house, but most women I know thought Jane kind of sucked from the very beginning. Jane is desperate to establish her indie cred, but it falls flat: for example, she runs down the "cheesy reality-tv winner" "Katy Hanson" (Kelly Clarkson), instead championing such slebs as "Serena Sax" (Courteney Cox). Her characters are sketched in the broadest of one-dimensional strokes and the celebrity pseudonyms are unbelievably easy to guess. Anyone in-the-know will immediately recognize "Richard Ruiz" as Michael Stipe, Drew Barrymore as a bisexual, curiously African-American (?) recovering addict who Jane makes out with at a party, and so forth. I gave this book 2 stars because some of the gossip is quite juicy once you get past the aliases.
For fans of Jane/Sassy, this might wile away an hour or so. For chicklit fans, the bar is already so low in this genre that I can't say this is much worse than most of what's out there, but compared to good chicklit like Marion Keyes, this is dreck. It's certainly no Devil Wears Prada, which, while not brilliantly written, was sparkling, entertaining pop trash. This is not.