I started this book in the car, on CD. At first I thought that I might be having trouble with the reader who was nasal and bored and seemed unwilling to alter her tone between male and female speakers, but no. Once I picked up a hard copy it was almost -- not quite, but almost -- as horrid.
I either outright hated or had disdain for every single character. Was I supposed to identify with the enabling parents of a middle-aged slacker? Or with the boorish ladies' man who was the object of the narrator's obsession? Or with the narrator herself, the doormat of a decade+ affair with a married guy who, by the account given here, made no sense as an object of desire?
It was just tedious and packed with sections that seemed designed just to pad the text: so. many. LISTS. A painfully unfunny "comic" novel that obviously thought it was the height of cleverness.
D+