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This book infuriated me. Nobody creates such loathsome characters quite like Lionel Shriver unless, of course it's Jami Attenberg. Goddamn, I wanted to slap the shit out of these people. These were truly despicable self-asorbed jerks and it was hard to feel any sympathy whatsoever towards them. The first time the ridiculous "Bambi" entered my home and treated me like she did the main character in this story would also have been the last. I would have told my husband in no uncertain terms that his trainer was not welcome because she was an obnoxious bitch. If my husband let someone talk like that to me in my own home... so disrespectful for a husband to allow that just because he wanted something from that woman.

But though I kind of hated this in a way, there is a compelling story about addiction, acceptance, striving towards and letting go. Of course there is a good reason to embrace physical fitness. People like to look good; people like to feel good. But when does staying fit enter the realm of the mentally unhealthy obsession? An addiction to physical fitness can ruin family relationships just like substance abuse does. An addiction to exercise can ruin your body. Letting go of something that ruled your life for so many years can be difficult- it can also be liberating. The inevitable passage of time and the ravages that ensue can come as a shock when one realizes they are now considered "OLD". No longer merely middle aged or mature, but actually old. The body starts to break down just like any machine run long enough starts to wear out. We can only fight for so long. And what for? It all ends the same for every one of us no matter what the level of physical fitness and good genes. No one gets out of this alive.

So there IS all that here too. Only you will be pissed off most of the time by these horrendous characters and the stupid things they do and the way they treat each other, omg.

I kind of loved this book but I must confess, I don't actually know what it was about. Yes of course there is the surface story that is simple enough. But I don't think that's what this book is trying to say. I must think about this more and perhaps read this again.

It reminded me of To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf which is another book that is more than it first appears. I suppose I should read that one again too.

More later if I figure out what I want to say. Right now, I'm thinking it's about the nature of reality, how we create our own reality, our lives, and live in them but as we create it we destroy it anew by our own expectations and limitations of understanding. We destroy by striving and yearning towards and miss living in the here and now. Is there an absolute reality that plays out when we are not experiencing? It's about how artists create but cannot be forced to create. If an artists creates but his vision is not understood the way they meant it, does it really matter if the art brings an understanding to the viewer/reader/listener? Is this meta?

This is a short book. Read it.

2 1/2 stars

Eh, I don't know about this one... I take that back, actually, I do know this... I am not the intended audience for this book. And it was written in such a specific way that unless you are a gay, upwardly mobile millenial man it would be hard to relate to the particular angst the main character Sam possesses and ruminates about ENDLESSLY. And jeez the superficial desires for the trappings of wealth, the tiresome designer name dropping...idk it made the characters seems so one dimensional and shallow.

The ayahuaska ceremony was quite a bastardisation of the quest of a real seeker, like ayahuaska-lite for dabblers in truth. There was no there there. Sam's problems were mundane, we all feel like he does at times. We don't need an ayahuaska ceremony to come to the realization that we're all human and struggling and should cut ourselves some slack.

The writing was good but the story of Sam dragged on and I lost patience with his pathetic inner dialog.

Very believable. So much so, that when I told my husband about this book I was reading, he thought I was describing a new toy on the market. I would not be surprised to see something very similar to this in the store soon. Will not be surprised to find out all the ways this goes bad... exactly as depicted in this book.

Many of us are addicted to social media. Many of us seek some sort of dialog or interaction with the people on the other side of the keyboard. We're "lonely". We're interested in the new and novel not the same old same old. We want to live vicariously. We want to project how perfect our lives seem. Most of the time we are existing in some netherworld, neither here nor there. We're not in the moment, experiencing what is going on around us. We're interacting with nobody and everybody except the people in the room with us.

It's weird. Probably very unhealthy as well. One hundred years from now historians will say "wtf".

We've had, as toys for our son when he was a little boy, both Furby and Tamagochees.

This is a thought provoking book, and it's good, but I was not blown away. It could have used some character development and a little more in the way of plot.