incon

This book is put forth as a cautionary tale, however anyone who has any experience at all with drugs can tell within the first 40 pages that many of the facts are wrong. Not only in the way the drugs are experienced, but even in the way they are taken.

Needless to say, when I discovered that this book was actually written by a mormon fearmonger, I was not surprised.

Although the eponymous essay resonates with a certain valedictorian profundity, the rest of the book felt tacked on, almost as if the author was writing to meet a deadline, and wasn't given enough time to really solidify the ideas she was trying to establish. Which makes obvious sense, as this book was cobbled together from rambling essays and half-realized stories which were gathered up after her death. I am confident that if Marina hadn't died when she did, these stories could have been refined into something truly brilliant. On the other hand, one could argue that without an early death, these stories would have never reached us at all. But would that have been so bad?

Haven't finished it yet, but so far unimpressed.

I'm confused why everyone seems to love this book so much.
Aside from he plot tangling around itself, and the characters constantly quipping back and forth to each other in over the top sitcom manner, it's practically impossible to tell the characters apart without attribution. Early in the first chapter there's a long exchange between two characters of different genders, and even with that difference it was still extremely difficult to tell them apart. The dialogue is stiflingly bland and the humor falls flat more often than it succeeds.

I think that I would have enjoyed this book, as the humor and style is something that I would normally like very much, if the characters had a bit of variety to them.