The Wentworths Review
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They’re ruthless; they’re mean; they’ll make you mad—and they’ll also make you laugh when you know you shouldn’t.

Meet The Wentworths, a powerful and wealthy Los Angeles family led by Judith, the narcissistic matriarch who practices anorexia and runs her household with an iron hand. August, the patriarch, is messing around with Honey Belmont, a confused 21-year-old single mother who needs to pay her bills. Eldest son, Conrad, an LA power lawyer with no morals, dumps his psychotic girlfriend, Angela. Becky, the married daughter, has a wimpy husband and two maladjusted children. And son, Norman, a 35-year-old gay cross-dresser, lives in the guesthouse.

The chapters alternate points of view, with the cast of characters offering a glimpse of their dysfunctional lives—and giving readers a fly-on-the-wall perspective of the comic and tragic events that befall this family as their individual and collective situations play out.

The idea of The Wentworths could have been taken straight from Dynasty, Dallas, or Falcon Crest, but without the ranch or the vineyards. Still, The Wentworths is even more fun, with its upscale Los Angeles twist and a lot more frankness. Each character has his or her own quirks, and the better-than-any-soap-opera story takes place over a very short period of time. It ebbs, flows, rises, and crashes with the turn of every page.

Bold and deliciously decadent, The Wentworths makes you feel like you’re peering into something you really shouldn’t be looking at—and it’s completely worth the ride.

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