BUtterfield 8

I’ll admit, I went into *Butterfield 8* expecting something closer to the Elizabeth Taylor film—all fur coats and dramatic swoons. What I got instead was a far grittier, more cynical beast. O’Hara’s New York is a city of backroom deals and emotional blackmail, where Gloria’s so-called ‘immorality’ is just a mirror held up to the men who exploit her. The novel’s strength lies in its refusal to romanticize: Gloria isn’t a victim or a femme fatale, but a woman making calculated, often self-destructive choices in a system rigged against her. That ambiguity is what makes her compelling. Gretchen Mol’s performance is *exceptional*—she nails Gloria’s brittle confidence, the way her voice hardens when she’s cornered but cracks when she’s alone. The supporting cast of characters (especially the smarmy, self-righteous men) benefit from Mol’s knack for vocal distinctions, though I wished she’d leaned harder into the novel’s darker comedic moments. My only real critique is the pacing in the first hour; O’Hara’s setup is deliberate, almost clinical, and the audiobook doesn’t always smooth over the occasional slog of exposition. But once Gloria’s spiral gains momentum, it’s impossible to look away. The ending, too, is a gut-punch—not because it’s tragic, but because it feels *earned*. If you’re tired of classics that tiptoe around female agency, this one bites back.