Lackluster book, I thought. I really wanted to love it (and I felt like I was cheating reading it- I've been choking down as much YA as I possibly can, and just felt desperate to read a book written for adults, but honestly, this was so entirely predictable that I could have written it for her.
The earnest debates over whether extra virgin olive oil is necessary, the longing to buy those interesting kevlar clothes in Brooklyn, how after a few months of not shopping, she started to feel serene....
It was dreadful and disgustingly bobo. I feel I should match the time I spent reading it doing some kind of penance.
Not Buying It
Quality: 4 Popularity: 6 Overall: 10
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