Unable to locate the main framework files! Make sure the parent theme folder is named correctly.

The Chocolate Money: Press

 

Articles:

 

Ashley Prentice Norton at BookHampton 10/6/12

Norton at BookHamptonLocal author Ashley Prentice Norton stopped at her favorite bookstore in East Hampton last Saturday, to read from her fearless first novel, The Chocolate Money. It’s a story about a daughter’s fraught relationship with her dysfunctional, tyrannical, and very wealthy mother. Though the book is very much not a memoir, Norton said she wanted to explore the phenomenon of rich families in America through the lens of her own “unorthodox” upbringing, and what a story she’s told! By turns funny, frightening, and transgressive, Norton has probed to the heart of her complex cast of characters with insight and empathy.

The novel itself has had quite an interesting life: originally excerpted in Town & Country Magazine—the first fiction to be published in that magazine since Brideshead Revisited—and accompanied by a magazine-directed photoshoot that netted the author offers to appear in The Real Housewives of New York City, the book went on to receive featured reviews in People and Oprah Magazine.

Norton developed the idea while taking a supplemental novel writing course at the YMCA—she’s a graduate of New York University’s Creative Writing MFA program—and her first agent was none other than Bill Clegg, the author of the addiction and recovery memoirs Portrait of the Addict as a Young Man and Ninety Days.

From its humble beginnings as a manuscript scribbled in the East Hampton library to its two-year journey to publication, The Chocolate Money is the result of Norton’s unyielding commitment to her craft. And fans rejoice: her next novel is on the way!

The Chicago Tribune 10/5/12

Scientists have yet to prove that there is a genetic predisposition to good writing, but as they continue the search they would do well to read “The Chocolate Money,” the first novel by a former Chicagoan named Ashley Prentice Norton.

This novel, which its author says is “semi-autobiographical,” is the coming-of-age story of Bettina Ballentyne, the child of a wealthy candy heiress being raised in a Lake Shore Drive penthouse by a flamboyant mother and later spending time at an East Coast boarding school. It is a darkly comic, more than a bit sexy and very polished book, which one hyperbolic publicist describes as “‘Mommie Dearest’ meets the Playboy Club.”

An excerpt that ran recently in Town and Country magazine was saucily headlined “Money Dearest: Secrets and lies from the wicked witch of Windy City.”

Norton is the daughter of former Tribune reporter Jon Anderson and his former wife, Abra Prentice Wilkin, the great-granddaughter of John D. Rockefeller. They began their careers as reporters and teamed to write a snappy gossip column for the bygone Daily News and later start a magazine called The Chicagoan, at which I worked as a young reporter for its 18-month existence.

Both remarried. Anderson has been retired for a few years, and Wilkin devotes most of her time to charitable and philanthropic endeavors. I have known both for decades; admired and respected them too. I knew Ashley when she was a kid.

The book is dedicated to both parents. Their reactions could not be more different.

Wilkin is not at all happy with the fictional mother in the book, whose name is Babs.

I can understand the mother’s feeling, and so might you: “Babs is beautiful, and I wish I looked like her … Babs’ legs are right in front of me and like she says, they are so f—— fabulous … Since I am her daughter, I think she might let me touch them once in a while … But her body is off-limits to me. It is almost as if she were afraid my small hands would leave fingerprints and ruin them forever.”

That’s pretty harsh, and Wilkin did not want to talk about the book with me. But Norton says: “We have had a falling out. We don’t talk. But this book is not a memoir. Yes, it incorporates a lot of elements from my life, memories, but this is a work of fiction and so is Babs.”

Norton is married to Alex Norton, who works in the asset management business. They have an apartment in Manhattan and a house in East Hampton, N.Y. They have three handsome children, two girls and a boy, ages 10 or under. A few years ago she was diagnosed with manic depression, and she recently detailed the six-month tussle with that disease in a moving and forthright article in Redbook magazine titled “Mom, interrupted.” She and her family come out winners.

The seeds of “The Chocolate Money” go back nearly 20 years, when Norton was earning a Master of Fine Arts at New York University and where one of her mentors was the great writer E.L. Doctorow. “That was when I found my voice, certainly the voice of my character in the novel,” she says.

Writing took a back seat to other things: getting married and raising a family. She later enrolled in writers’ workshops and writing groups, and her novel started to come to life.

“I think that it is an honest book, and I do take full responsibility for the story,” she says.

“I am 41 and I do love my mother and hope that we can some day have a dialogue.”

As for her father, he could not be more pleased, accompanying her on a recent trip here for book signings at several local shops.

“I am immensely proud of what she’s accomplished,” Anderson says. “She goes into this novel like a reporter, with a stunning eye for detail. Unlike the child in the book, she’s pretty straight-arrow. And she seems to have somehow picked up, and used well, all the writerly tips that I myself learned when I took a two-year leave of absence from the Tribune and went off to Iowa City to spend two years in the graduate writers program.”

Then he adds, fatherly pride charmingly trumping all reason, “To me, she’s today’s successor to Jane Austen, Edith Wharton and Marcel Proust.”

rkogan@tribune.com

Copyright © 2012, Chicago Tribune

C Notes

Q&A

Ashley Prentice Norton on ‘The Chocolate Money,’ Being a Rockefeller, and Returning to Chicago

Posted September 18, 2012, at 10:31 a.m.
By Cassie Walker Burke
 When the Chicago-bred author Ashley Prentice Norton returns this week to promote her new novel, The Chocolate Money (Mariner, $16), out today, she’d be wise to pack an extra coat of armor. Her debut, a dark coming-of-age story about the impressionable daughter of a Mommy Dearest-like chocolate heiress, has tongues wagging in North Shore and Gold Coast social circles because of its resemblance to real people and places. I spoke to the 41-year-old Norton—the daughter of longtimeTribune reporter Jon Anderson and the local philanthropist Abra Prentice Wilkin, and the great-great-granddaughter of John D. Rockefeller—about the book, her prominent family, and returning to her hometown.

Let’s get one question out of the way: How closely is the mother in your book, whom you call “Babs,” based on your own mother? Babs has a lot in common with my mom, but I made up a lot of situations. My mom has a very strong voice, and Babs talks a lot like my mom. And Babs does a lot of things that my mom does: She lives in a penthouse, she has these over-the-top parties, she loves having money, and she can be alienating to people with her sort of unorthodox views. But it is fiction. The starting point [for writing it] is our relationship—she’s been such a character in my life; how could [I] not write about it? But it’s not a memoir.

What was your mother’s response when she read an advance of book? She’s very upset about it. She’s not speaking to me currently. We were actually having a good relationship; now it’s up for grabs. To her credit, she’s a journalist, and she was very excited when I sold it. One of the great things about both my parents was that they always encouraged me to write. But we didn’t really talk about what she was doing to do if she didn’t like it. [After she read the advance], she disinvited me to Florida. She said the kids and the nanny were welcome to come, but I was not. She didn’t invite me to her 70th birthday. Her friends are all rallying around her, thinking I’m mean spirited and bitter.

But that wasn’t my intent. I wasn’t thinking that this was going to ruin our relationship, or out her as a terrible mother; it wasn’t intended to have this effect. It isn’t all about her: I made some changes, but I think you also have to take responsibility. There was a lot of material that happened in my childhood that was good fodder, and she has to kind of take responsibility for that.

In the book, for example, Babs sends out a Christmas card with a naked portrait of herself and 10-year-old Bettina. Did that really happen?
That’s true. [My mom] liked to have Christmas cards that people were going to talk about. She said it was very tastefully done.

How old were you and your siblings? 
Probably 8, 6, and 4. Or maybe it was 7, 5, and 3. It caused a lot of talk. Probably more than this book.

In many ways, your bio is similar to that of Bettina. You both come from money, attend boarding school, and spend time in France. Like you did, the character even struggles with alcoholism at an early age. How closely does she resemble you? 
I went to [the East Coast boarding school] Exeter, and my experience there was much different. There was no Meredith, no sex life [in the book, Bettina has a series of careless romps, often to her detriment]. We were too busy studying for that. I had a lot of friends at Exeter. I wasn’t as aloof. It was hard to fit in because I was a little naïve. I had this big secret—I’m a Rockefeller—but, at Exeter, people with money are a dime a dozen.

You recently wrote an essay for Redbook about your struggles with manic depression and how you contemplated suicide. It was a very brave piece, and very personal. What was your family’s reaction? 
As far as my family, they were really excited about it. That was one of the beautiful things of my parents—they encouraged me to take risks. My husband [Alexander Norton, the son of the Chicago antiques dealer Richard Norton] came from a more staid Lake Forest background. He was not that enthused. I explained to him that the reason I wrote the article was not to be sensational, but to take away the stigma of depression because it was such a horrible experience. I thought that if I could help one person—and I’ve gotten all these amazing emails from people telling me I helped them.

Did that essay, in some ways, help you steel yourself for reaction to this book? 
Originally, I thought maybe we’d put [the essay] under a pseudonym. But my editor argued that I should use my name. I thought about that, and said OK. I just went for it. And then I thought, I’m going to do my book anyway. I started the book at 23, and it took me 20 years to write. My biggest fear is that people are going to think I sold this because I’m a Rockefeller, and that I’m a one-hit wonder. But I’m not. I see myself as a serious writer. I have an MFA [from New York University]. This is my point of view.

You have three book signings scheduled in Chicago this week (September 20 at 7 pm at the Book Cellar in Lincoln Square, September 21 at 7 pm at the Lake Forest Book Store, and September 24 at 6 pm at the Chicago Public Library main branch). What reactions have you received from your in-laws and other Chicagoans? 
My friends in Chicago have been very supportive. My dad is coming to everything, and my husband is flying to Chicago with me. My mother-in-law is making canapés for the reception at Lake Forest Book Store. My mother-in-law and father-in-law both read it. My mother-in-law had issues with the profanity and the sex scenes more than anything. My father-in-law said he was proud of me.

My mom’s not going to be in town, and she’s not coming to any readings. She got a copy and sent it to her friends; they have vilified it. That’s the only bad reaction I’ve had to it. I’m actually going to the Corner Bookstore in New York [the release day], and the Book Cellar before I go to the Lake Forest Book Store. That’s the one I’m nervous about.

Why?
Are people going to show up to be supportive? Are people coming to gawk? I don’t see a lot of people saying, hey, let’s go to a reading on Friday night. It’s my debut—will three people show up?

If you had to hazard a percentage, what amount of the book would you say is true?
It’s hard to quantify. Because when you think about it all being true, everything comes from your subconscious. If I had to say, I’d say 80 percent is fiction, 20 percent is true.

Much of the book takes place in a lavish downtown Chicago apartment—and it sounds very similar to your mother’s legendary penthouse apartment in the Drake.
I totally ripped that off. I told my mom that. It’s such an unusual apartment with a spiral staircase—and the parties. I couldn’t imagine a better apartment.

 

heiress-ashley-prentice-norton-celebrates-debut-novel-ues-courseAshley Prentice Norton and agent Bill Clegg at another book party.

BY MOLLY FISCHER

12:47 pm Sep. 20, 2012

The Brooklyn Book Festival got underway this week, but the Upper East Side has a literary life of its own. Tuesday night, at The Corner BookstoreAshley Prentice Nortoncelebrated the release of her first novel, The Chocolate Money.

Norton is the great-great-granddaughter of John D. Rockefeller. Her heroine’s family money comes from candy instead of oil—but like Norton, Bettina grows up in 1980s Chicago with a flamboyant socialite mother, and leaves home for an East Coast boarding school. The crowd at Tuesday’s party erred on the side of prep rectitude: ties for men, tasteful highlights for women. The author of How to Look Expensive would be visiting the store two nights later, but her advice seemed mostly superfluous.

The Corner Bookstore’s jewel-box scale required Norton to stand behind the counter for her reading, nestled between a vase of pink snapdragons and an antique cash register. She began with thank-yous, then repeated some wisdom from her friend Susan Cheever.

“Nobody’s really interested in the reading, they just want to hear gossip.”

In that spirit, I’ll summarize: Yes, Norton’s mother once sent out a naked family Christmas card photo. Yes, she threw “a lot of epic parties, ” including one construction-themed gathering that featured strippers in tool belts. She also tried to take her children to Studio 54. And she really did live in a house-sized apartment (“aparthouse”) on Lake Shore Drive. Yes, Norton’s family has read the book. Her dad likes it. Her mom isn’t speaking to her.

Norton’s hands shook visibly as she read, but as a mother of three, she had a practiced bedtime-story voice. Her selection described the preparations for a “hangover brunch cruise” party, at which an 11-year-old Bettina wears a white bikini with blue high heels and falls down a spiral staircase while lip-synching “Tits and Ass” for friends of her mother, Babs.

During the Q&A, one guest asked whether Norton had found an age-appropriate way to share excitement over the book with her own children, who are ten, eight, and five.

“My daughters were more excited about my outfit,” Norton said. She wore black platform heels, black shorts, a sequined blouse, and a fur trimmed vest. Her ten-year-old son had greater curiosity about the book than his little sisters, and he had wanted to come to the reading.

“I told him that it’s something he can do when he’s older,” Norton said. “He can read it when he’s older. But he’s very proud. He took it with him to school one day and showed his English teacher.” He goes to a Catholic school, and the book’s first sentence contains the word “fuck.” Norton was mortified.

Also mortifying: “I was asked, I will say, to be on Real Housewives of New York,” she said. “And they presented it like, ‘We’ve got a big opportunity!’” She declined, of course.

After the reading, Norton and her guests walked to a friend’s Park Avenue apartment a few blocks away. The reception was tame by the standards of Babs’ aparthouse, but decadent by the standards of debut fiction. Scattered on tables were chocolate gold coins, candy bars printed with lines from the book, and stacks of the Town and Country issue that ran an excerpt of the novel (“50 Shades of Rockefeller: A Scandal Begins”).

Norton took a break from mingling to explain the book’s genesis.

“I was in the NYU creative writing program,” she told me—she had enrolled in grad school after graduating from Georgetown. “I got the idea for Babs, but I didn’t really have a narrative arc. And they do short stories there, not novels, so I kind of graduated not knowing how to do a novel.” She set the project aside to pursue an English lit Ph.D.; when she decided to return to it, she enrolled in a workshop at the 92nd Street Y. Agent Bill Clegg’s then-girlfriend was in Norton’s writing group, and when Clegg read a chapter of what would become The Chocolate Money, he asked Norton if she had anything else he could read. She didn’t.

“I just had it in my head: finish the novel, call Bill Clegg.” It took fifteen years: in that time, she had started a family, and Bill Clegg had gone from literary wonder boy to crack addict and back again. “I tracked him down the day I finished it,” she says.

Clegg, whom she calls “an amazing man,” was also in the crowd Tuesday night, looking pristine in a white Lacoste polo. Both he and Norton have survived rough times: for Norton, not just the wild upbringing she’s now fictionalized, but also a struggle with manic depression that she recently wrote about in Redbook; for Clegg, the addiction that he’s chronicled in two memoirs. And they’re both testaments to the city’s embrace of social shape-shifters, which the Chicago native calls one of her favorite things about New York.

“You can be a writer,” Norton said, “and you can also be an Upper East Side mom.”

09/19/2012 10:00 PM
By ANN GERBER
A LOVE LETTER TO HER MOTHER WRITTEN WITH A POISONED PEN and filled with anger and pain is The Chocolate Money, the 284-page first novel by Abra Prentice Wilkin’s darling daughter Ashley Norton that is powerful and bitter. Surely the mother monster Babs is not patterned after Abra, the Rockefeller heiress we think we know, for she is cold, clueless, loveless, narcissistic, cruel. We prefer to think Abra told Ashley to write a blockbuster book about a truly horrible, beyond reality, mama. Ashley is the daughter of Abra and Jon Anderson, both accomplished writers, and is now living in New York City with her husband and three daughters. Devastating and poignant, this coming-of-age memoir boasts shocking revelations about teen sex and longing for love that a reader will not soon forget.

Reviews:

Oprah’s Best Books Pick: October

The Chocolate Money
By Ashley Prentice Norton
288 pages; Mariner
Available at: Amazon.com | Barnes & Noble | iBookstore | IndieBound
Bettina Ballentyne feels like a “match that just won’t strike” compared with her mother, a Grace Kelly look-alike and chocolate-fortune heiress who flaunts her affair with a married man, throws parties with themes like “hangover-brunch cruise,” and once posed nude for the family Christmas card. Bettina, the adolescent narrator of Ashley Prentice Norton’s darkly comic novel,The Chocolate Money, portrays her mother in sardonic terms—”Babs makes up her mind about people and doesn’t allow for upgrades”—meant to mask a deep loneliness. At 15, Bettina enrolls in boarding school, where she goes on a self-destructive spree, drinking, having sex, and eventually doing the one thing she knows will get her mother’s attention, however briefly. Norton’s prose, laced with sarcastic humor, also reveals Bettina’s bitter desolation and her need to be noticed and loved—by Babs, or anyone at all.
— A.W.

Read more: http://www.oprah.com/book/The-Chocolate-Money?editors_pick_id=39544#ixzz28LTwDJUH

Ashley Prentice Norton’s THE CHOCOLATE MONEY gets 3.5 out of 4 stars in next week’s People Magazine. “Compulsively readable.”

 

The Chocolate Money
Ashley Prentice Norton

Review by Lacy LeBlanc

”When the time comes for you to have sex, I don’t want you sitting on your hands, fucking baffled. Oral sex, very important. First, the name. When a man sucks on your clitoris, you should call it admiring the centerfold. Much, much better than eating you out or going down on youGiving a blowjob is also stupid. Refer to putting a dick in your mouth as raising the mast. Or something like that. Blowing has nothing to do with it.”

Bettina is not abused in the traditional sense. She is abused in a way that can only be accomplished by the very, very wealthy, which is to say that she is both horribly neglected and fabulously well-taken care of. She is the spoiled only child of Babs, heiress to a fortune made from chocolate, who came into her wealth when both of her parents died in a boating accident. Bettina and Babs certainly aren’t friends, but they most definitely do not have a typical mother-daughter relationship.

This is a deeply fucked up, horrifying book. It’s not so much because of anything that happened in and of itself but because of the casual manipulations of adults and how that affected the lives of their children. I’ll be the first to admit that I won’t ever win any Mother of the Year awards. I swear far too much. I’m much too blunt. And I’m probably not nearly nurturing or patient enough. However. HOWEVER. I also don’t share my sex life with them as a life lesson. (If my mother had ever lectured me about the importance of “admiring the centerfold” or “raising the mast,” I would’ve died. DIED.) Pro parenting tip: don’t have screaming orgasms or yell at your partner to fuck you in the ass where your prepubescent children can hear you. You probably also shouldn’t encourage them to dress up in skimpy outfits at your theme parties. Or use them as tools to hurt the wife of the man you’re currently fucking. You’ll screw your kids up but good. And that’s exactly what happened to Bettina.

devoured this book. In no way did I expect The Chocolate Money to pull me in the way it did, but Bettina’s damaged goods mentality had me hoping she’d eventually snap out of it, tell her mother to go fuck herself, and set up a real life of her own. Nothing that happened was terribly surprising; I figured out the one big “mystery” fewer than 75 pages in. The writing, however, is amazing, and it makes me wonder what kind of childhood Ashley Prentice Norton, who is the great-great granddaughter of John D. Rockefeller (and probably pretty damn well off, herself), had. I won’t spoil anything for you, but, ultimately, I think that everyone got what they deserved.


Buy It: It’s a quick, surprisingly engrossing read, and even if you don’t like the story, you’ll at least feel better about your own parenting abilities when you’re done.

The Chocolate Money
Ashley Prentice Norton
Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
$15.95 (Paperback), 284 pages

 

“Not since Mommie Dearest has there been a transcription of a complex mother-daughter relationship as powerful. I rooted with all my heart for this girl. Ashley Prentice Norton’s writing is so gripping, vivid, and moving — so realistically drawn — it leaves even the most well-adjusted reader with the chilling knowledge of what it’s like to be raised by wolves. The Chocolate Money is devastating and unforgettable.” — Isabel Gillies, author of Happens Every Day and A Year and Six Seconds

“I am not a reader easily shocked, and I was shocked by the brave twists and daring turns of Ashley Norton’s compulsively readable The Chocolate Money. This story of a girl coming of age in Chicago, heir to a chocolate fortune and all the spoils and hungers that fortune sparks, is fearless and utterly unputdownable.” — Jennifer Gilmore, author of Something Red and Golden Country

“This is the darkest comedy I’ve ever read, overflowing with unflinching observations of the elite that are both laugh-out-loud and heart-wrenchingly poignant, all woven with the searing wit of a truly gifted new voice in fiction.” — Jill Kargman, author of Wolves in Chic Clothing

The Chocolate Money is the perfect page-turner, offering a window into the life of the richer-than-rich, complete with scandalous sex, wild parties, a snobby prep school, and a tyrannical train-wreck of a mother. But it’s also something more—it’s a perceptive portrait of a young woman growing past the world that shaped her. Norton writes with empathy and wisdom about mothers and daughters, and the pain of loving a parent you must escape.” — Jill A. Davis, author of Ask Again Later

“Despite the sweet title, this debut novel by Ashley Prentice Norton is a dark tale of maternal sadism, twisted sex, and self-destruction. Norton is a fearless writer and most shocking of all will be if this book does not have rich resonance with any reader, male or female.” - James Frey, author of A Million Little Pieces