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380 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2015
We’ll all have to be strong for them now: your lovely dad with his mad sweaters and that way he has of saying Al-ice, pausing between the ‘Al’ and the ‘ice’ as if he’s asking a question, and your mum, your gorgeous mum, a one woman dynamo, who you’re an absolute spitting image of and take after in so many ways, but you won’t take after anyone anymore. It’s stopped, you have, a line’s been drawn under you, the last page in your book, and there’s a huge hole where you and that laugh and that AWFUL taste in music and those OUTRAGEOUS leggings should be.
I’m drunk, Liz. Not that it’s apparent. Can’t even do that well: get drunk. Look at this email: even the god-damn punctuation is right. I’m going to have another drink. The lecherous lecturer is going to get pie-eyed. A sober drunk. That’s an oxymoron if ever I heard one. Listen to me, an oxymoron. I’m even pretentious when I’m sozzled.
Thank you, NetGalley and Simon & Schuster for providing this copy in exchange for an honest review.