THE WIFE APP

Three divorced mothers in Manhattan join forces to create an app “to right marital inequalities” in this breezy look at gender imbalance.

Independently wealthy business school dropout Madeline Wallace, who has been happily divorced since her ex-husband transferred to London shortly after their daughter was born 14 years ago, borders on obsessive in how much she loves single motherhood. Lauren Zuckerman loves her 12-year-old twin daughters, too, but having recently gotten divorced after learning her ex-husband was having sex with prostitutes, she now regrets that she gave up a high-powered tech career to freelance and carry more of the parenting load. Literacy teacher Sophie Smart, who doesn't talk much about her bisexuality, struggles to support her sons, 12 and 7, with minimal help from her ex-husband, who has married and had a baby with a successful lawyer Sophie can't help both envying and liking. During a dinner celebrating Lauren’s divorce, Madeline half-seriously suggests that Lauren should develop an app to help women monetize the chores and, more importantly, the “mental load” of being a wife. Lauren takes Madeline’s idea and runs with it. The viewpoints shift among the three as the app develops, grows, and suddenly catches fire. Lauren handles the tech, Madeline the finance, and Sophie client relations. What starts as a socially conscious novel about the plight of women becomes an increasingly lightweight romp. Although “mental load” remains the main reference point throughout the book, the emphasis shifts to romance (plus sex) and relatively minor, ultimately solvable child-rearing crises, what Madeline acknowledges are “first-world problems.” There is surprisingly little social texture; these likable-enough women live in a world without racial tension or political anxiety. Although Mackler’s protagonists are around 40 and would have been barely 20 at the turn of the 21st century, they could easily populate an updated Sex and the City.

Mackler knows how to shape scenes and characters but offers an oddly dated, privileged version of feminism lite.