This is possibly the most hyped book of the year. Claire-Louise Bennett describes her main character's situation in an "out of breath" style, with endless repetitions, short bursts of sentences barely qualifying for their definition, in an internal monologue of irritating and often nonsensical emphatic use of repetitions. Yes. Yes. Yes. Repetitions. As much as the writing irritates, like a first year student in creative writing finding a personal voice, the content has not much to offer either, except an endless list of literary name-dropping of literary icons, as a self-obsessed and immature effort to lift herself by her bootstraps, without actually getting anywhere.
Maybe all this sounds a little too harsh, but I guess that readers need to be warned too when they risk wasting their precious time.
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