An odd book with multiple capitalist motifs around advertising, superstores, beauty and body, processed food, and television entertainment; these build and combine in the personal and specific, marking out strange tensions in relationships, in self-image and drive, until the self becomes little more that the vehicle of the commodity. I keep thinking about this book. The narrator is hardly there, but she is imprinted on my thoughts—and her desires, her memories, her observations and fears create conflict because, despite the fragmenting of her agency, they are too much. The last third of the novel lost momentum, and I’m not sure I liked the ending. Nonetheless, it was a fascinating read. An eerie, full experience. 

There but for the grace of god go I

I really liked the book at first but lost the plot in part 3.