More aptly titled I matter, this book made me wonder how the
author survives in the relatively small town of Missoula MT where she must
certainly be running of female friends to take up (overpoweringly) and then discard. Although Sonnenberg had a miserable, if
privileged, childhood (which she earlier chronicled in a memoir about her
appalling mother called Her last death),
and is obviously a damaged individual, that doesn’t seem to me to justify a
book contract to produce this self-centered thing. It isn’t about female friendships, it’s all
about her. For example, she seems
shocked, shocked, that a friend, who is obviously struggling with being an
adequate mother, would cut her off after the friend asks Susan, “You think I’m
a bad mother, don’t you?” and Susan replies bluntly, “Yes.” From someone who has been in endless therapy,
of all kinds, this seems amazingly cruel.
Trust me, if she makes overtures to befriend you, run! 304 tedious pp.
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