Why Did I Ever Book

This is not my usual cup of tea. But then again, I don't drink tea so I really ought to say this is not my usual cup. But then again, a cup is topologically equivalent to a doughnut and I do like doughnuts so I thought, meh why not have a bite. Folks, let me warn you binge reading on the basis of capriciously formed excuses is as caustic as binge eating, and this is not a rabbit hole you want to be falling into.

Also, the recommendation for this book came from an unreliable source (my boyfriend) who is infamous for picking books on a whim without sufficient research (I abhor that. Who was the wise soul who proclaimed 'so many books, so little time' ? Nevermind, it's the truth of the statement that matters.), so the title of the book is the very question I expected to be asking myself while reading it. Well, here I am with my four stars rating surprising nobody.

And, I thought I deserved a break from the heavy literature of war, death and grief I've been reading lately (The Enlightenment of the Greengage Tree and Apeirogon) and although I find both of them thoroughly engrossing, there's only so much I can take at a time before the morbidity gets to me. And it turns out that I was right. This book was a chuckle riot. And I learnt a new word: thingamabob. Honestly now that I know of it, that's all I aspire to be. How could you be hiding from me for all these years, oh aim of my life!

The protagonist of this book, Money, has to deal with a missing cat, a drug addict daughter and a son who is in police custody as part of a witness protection program all while working as a Hollywood scriptwriter, a job she is steadily growing wary of. So she resorts to talking to herself and rearranging, painting and fixing various objects (that do not need any sort of alteration) around her house.

I say to myself, "You're not thinking right, you're not thinking clearly."
I say, "You're thinking, thinking, thinking, but most of it is gobbledygook."

She also has a very interesting best friend who deems it appropriate to toot his insouciant little horn at all times while still pining for his ex-wife. Although as a character, he is a lovely addition to the plot, and strives his hardest to help keep Money sane.

Now he and I are watching as some charitable organization pleads away on the television. The spokesperson says that without our donations many Third World children will go blind.
"Where the fuck is my government?" asks Hollis. "Why should this be left up to me?"
He says, "Suppose I don't have any money to contribute?"
I don't want to hurt his feelings or make things worse but I have to say, "That, is not too big a suppose."

While it has its dark moments, this book mainly functions as feminist story, with a strong, outspoken, flawed, hilarious protagonist.

This is not like reading Alfred Lord Tennyson but neither is it like inhaling from a bag of glue.

You know, I guess binge reading is actually fine. So if you decide to indulge in this delectable, absurd, hilarious little book, far be it from me to deter you.