This is a memoir by Kathryn Borel and in it she relates how she and her father embark on a wine trip across France and she attempts to face some of her demons. I say attempts, because she does not seem to succeed.
There are quite a few problems with this book. First, the book reads like an SAT words overloaded essay. The author has quite the penchant for the literary mechanisms and she fails to implement them well. The analogies are over the top and out of place. The book could have enjoyed better editing to refine her style of writing. The overuse of analogies, metaphors, similes and hyperboles become one of this memoir's downfall. Frankly, it was over the top. She should have toned it down a bit, especially the overused adjectives for she "made a sauce with assiduous attention," and then "Dense fatigue cloaked my face like a goose-down comforter." Now imagine the entire book like the aforementioned sentences.
Second, the characters are unlikable. Although I appreciate the honesty, Ms. Borel's personality comes through quite clearly through the narrative and I did not find her likable. She came across as a selfish, egotistical, megalomaniac, needy, intolerant, desperate child with daddy issues. She also exhibited prepotency and a lousy character. Frankly, by the end of the book I was desperate for it to end, for I did not care one bit what happened in the book, nor to its characters. And that is the biggest downfall of the book.