
Why is it useless? It's a memoir (adapted from an L.A. Weekly article) about the author's first marriage, which was a failure. I guess it's supposed to be amusing, but the problem is that the author is an idiot. There are a bunch of quotes like this:
I was a struggling writer slash cocktail waitress. He was a struggling actor slash bartender. It was a romance made in L.A. heaven. I had broken up with my live-in boyfriend Adam only two months before Jeff and I had our first date. And like a game of Tetris, Adam's upside down L shape turned and formed the space in my heart for Jeff's rectangle.
Ugh. When she's not just plain dumb, Rothchild comes across as whiny. (She blames her mother for damming up her emotions and then says:
But the dam has to break sometimes and when it does it's like a polluted river. All sorts of things you didn't realize you were holding back comes spilling out, and they are as toxic as mercury-filled fish carcasses, dirty needles, and used condoms.
Double ugh.)
Could anyone enjoy this book? Well, apparently it's going to be a movie. Someone will buy the book after they see the sure-to-be-mediocre movie, I bet. But, Christ: This book makes an unimpeachable case for outlawing the memoir. Freedom of the press be damned; did you read that fucking Tetris simile?
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