I enjoyed reading this. Honesty on top of honesty. There's something eminently satisfying in seeing people cut through the layers of bullshit that we as humans layer around ourselves for protection, or to convince ourselves that the choices we make are enlightened or just. As my certainty about almost everything in life (except my family) trends down, I've become more and more convinced that we humans can justify anything we do or say somehow, from the most depraved, to the day to day self-lies. Makes you shake your head.
I dunno, it seems to me this book is just a cry of despair born of the widespread anomie of our modern society. I guess casual sex makes for a more titillating read (especially when written by a woman), and a more profitable book, but is this underlying reality of this tale really any different than if she had taken to drugs, or alcohol, or (to expand our view to include men) video games, or gambling, or an addiction to professional sports, or ...
Viewed in that light, the book seems trite to me, almost entirely devoid of self-awareness (indeed the author seems to keep her mind firmly closed on that topic, despite gentle prodding from well-meaning friends; "not today"), lacking insight or perspective that might be any help in dealing with the underlying problem. Arguably the book might be worse than trite, actually making the problem worse, by reinforcing a kind of learned helplessness around the issues we all face together.
I enjoyed reading this. Honesty on top of honesty. There's something eminently satisfying in seeing people cut through the layers of bullshit that we as humans layer around ourselves for protection, or to convince ourselves that the choices we make are enlightened or just. As my certainty about almost everything in life (except my family) trends down, I've become more and more convinced that we humans can justify anything we do or say somehow, from the most depraved, to the day to day self-lies. Makes you shake your head.
I dunno, it seems to me this book is just a cry of despair born of the widespread anomie of our modern society. I guess casual sex makes for a more titillating read (especially when written by a woman), and a more profitable book, but is this underlying reality of this tale really any different than if she had taken to drugs, or alcohol, or (to expand our view to include men) video games, or gambling, or an addiction to professional sports, or ...
Viewed in that light, the book seems trite to me, almost entirely devoid of self-awareness (indeed the author seems to keep her mind firmly closed on that topic, despite gentle prodding from well-meaning friends; "not today"), lacking insight or perspective that might be any help in dealing with the underlying problem. Arguably the book might be worse than trite, actually making the problem worse, by reinforcing a kind of learned helplessness around the issues we all face together.
A delightful story of a hose bag having one last desperate fling before getting some cats and settling in for a long long winter of discontent.