Carrie Bradshaw is a novelist now. After seven or so best-selling non-fiction books about sex and dating, titled things like Menhattan and A Single Life, the 50-something ex-columnist is diving into fiction. And no, the book is not about a single woman dating her way around New York. It’s about a 19th-century woman having an existential crisis which, in some ways, is actually more Carrie Bradshaw than anything else And Just Like That’s writers room could have come up with.
But what is the book about, really? Throughout And Just Like That’s third season, we’re given various lines and tidbits, references and glimpses, while Carrie types directly into Pages (brave) in huge font and narrates the lines out loud. We know it’s set in 1864, we know there’s a romance involved, and we know it’s inspired by her new Gramercy Park duplex (so much so, that she doesn’t have time to properly furnish it). But what else do we know? I combed through every reference and line in order to map out the plot of Carrie’s novel in its entirety.
Episode one
“The woman wondered what she had gotten herself into.”
Okay, so the book opens mid-way through an “inciting incident.” We don’t yet know what it is that Carrie’s protagonist has gotten herself into, exactly, but seeing as Carrie was on the phone with Aidan before feeling motivated to open her laptop for the first time in weeks, we can assume it’s a romantic entanglement of some sort.
Episode two
“Sitting in the sunlight, the woman felt the fog of the last two nights lift. She realized her recent tossing and turning and insecurities were remnants of another time. A time when she was less sure of her path. This is a new house, she reminded herself. A new life. This wasn’t her past, it was the present. May, 1864.”
Right, so maybe this woman has been stressing over the aforementioned relationship not because she’s unhappy, but because she won’t allow herself to be happy? We also now know that the book is set in 1864, which would place us squarely at the tail-end of the Civil War, post-Manhattan draft riots and with Abraham Lincoln as president. Could it be possible that our protagonist is exiting a period of instability—not unlike Carrie herself—and is therefore unable to fully relax into her new life?
“The woman lifted her petticoat and hurried up the twisted iron staircase. She stepped carefully in her dove grey button boots to make sure that she wouldn’t stumble as she crossed the threshold and went on her way.”
In this scene, Carrie narrates the lines as she walks up her very own iron staircase. Could it be that her protagonist once lived in her exact home? According to Galerie, 3 Gramercy Park West was constructed circa 1846, so the dates check out.
Episode three
“The woman had survived the treacherous journey, mostly intact—albeit dispossessed of her nightgown and carpet bag. With little more than her thoughts for company, she burrowed beneath her blankets to stave off the cold, uncertain night ahead.”
Why this woman has left her Gramercy Park townhouse, presumably on a horse and carriage, we do not know, but seeing as the two stories have aligned so closely thus far, we can only assume that this woman—like Carrie, on her trip to Virginia—has ventured out for love-related reasons that she may or may not regret later.
Episode four
“The woman glanced out of her train compartment, mystified—not quite sure if her taxing journey had brought her closer to, or further from, the things she most longed for.”
Oh, so she went to visit her lover by train—which would have been fun, considering trains had only been around New York for a couple of decades. And, look, our protagonist—the woman, who does not have a name, as I’m sure you’ve gathered—still isn’t sure if this relationship is right for her. Sound familiar?
Episode five
“The woman threw open her windows to let the city in. She could hear the horses coming and going with their carriages, each one bringing an exciting possibility. The unexpected cool breeze on this hot afternoon reminded her that each day need not be an echo of the one before. There are endless adventures to be taken, if she simply dared to decide to take them. Putting one foot in front of the other, she stepped off the expected path and vowed to go wherever a day might take her.”
I think we can all agree, at this point, that the woman is clearly a version of Carrie, but about 160 years ago. With that said, “the woman” seems to be more aware than Carrie is that her relationship is essentially holding her back emotionally. Carrie, listen to the woman! Run free in your Terry de Havillands!
Episode six
“Lilies of the valley in the garden bowed their delicate white bonnets in the pounding rain as the woman inside braved the unknown.”
Am I getting delirious, or does this sound vaguely horny? For context, Episode 6 is when Duncan invites Carrie over for that weird stew… just saying!
“Despite the shatter, the woman knew the break wasn’t fatal. With time and care, it would soon be repaired. Because the ties that bound them were stronger than any spun glass.”
When Aidan smashes Carrie’s window, she says, “These windows survived the Mexican War, the Civil War, the draft riots of ’63, as in 1863…” So, basically, Carrie is being haunted by “the woman” in her day-to-day life. She is the woman. They are one and the same. Which explains why she starts wearing all those old maiden-type dresses, and why the window is smashed in the book, too.
Episode seven
“The woman held on to what she knew to be true.”
Don’t we all? And will the woman ever get a name?!
Episode eight
“After what seemed like forever, the woman felt happiness had arrived at her doorstep, remarkably and quite unexpected, like a magnificent red bird that suddenly appears in the garden. You hold your breath and remain very still, not wanting it to fly away again.”
I have a theory that Sarah Jessica Parker actually wrote this line herself, because it so closely resembles the time she freaked out over the 2017 eclipse and screamed about “birds that are rarely ever seen.” What our woman is so happy about in this instance, we do not know—but we can assume her own Duncan has entered the picture?
Episode nine
“The woman had thought that she and her love were very present, but now realized that they were still locked in the past. Which meant, of course, that they had no future.”
Yay, 19th-century Carrie finally broke up with 19th-century Aidan!
Episode ten
“Autumn was here, and as the leaves turned gold and the air turned crisp, the woman returned to herself. Her hours turned into days, her days turned into weeks, her pain turned into productivity. The family that would never inhabit her home, or her heart, faded from her life, the way the golden leaf faded to brown at her feet. She had done all she could. She had done all she could. She had done all she could.”
If Duncan were really such a good writer, he’d have told Carrie to avoid the seasonal metaphor in favor of something more original, and also that the repeating-everything-three-times thing isn’t working, but whatever, this is a book inside a fictional TV show, so… we move! As for what’s actually happening, it sounds as though the woman is entering a period of acceptance… But, wait, there’s a twist, which we learn via Duncan.
Duncan: “Also clever: Having the man make it back safely from the war, but having him die from the untreated wound from the previous battle? Surprising.”
Wait, so maybe 19th-century Carrie didn’t actually break up with 19th-century Aidan, but… he died? Or maybe what Duncan’s referring to is 19th-century Mr. Big’s death, as I’m assuming they didn’t have Pelotons back then. Men were too busy going to war, etc. Which explains why 19th-century Carrie has been so haunted by her past. So, what next? In episode ten, Duncan asks the question for us.
Duncan: “What’s going to happen to the woman? Do you have the ending yet?”
Carrie: “Well, she’ll die of loneliness, of course.”
Duncan: “May I make one final suggestion? She lives. She’s such a unique character, it would be a shame to end her.”
Carrie: “I will take that into consideration.”
“The woman sat in her garden. Even though summer had come and now gone, she could feel the warmth of its lingering touch on her face and body. How wonderful. How wonderful. How wonderful.”
The seasonal metaphor continues—but at least the woman hasn’t died of loneliness… for now.
So there we have it: the plot of Carrie’s romantic period drama thus far. Will it become her eighth bestseller? Only time—and two more episodes—will tell, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say: yes, probably.