I just can’t. There is so much narcissism and, more generally, undiagnosed psychopathology here. I love bananas backwards books but not this one. At first, I thought I maybe loved it. There are some brilliant observations and lines in it. Miranda July sees the world in a unique way and shares incisive observations of the lives of (some) women. But then, this book is a snowball rolling down a hill of narcissism. I don’t know what else to say. I loved the kinky sex stuff. But the way the main character manages her relationships with others is hard for me to endure. Not every heroine has to be likable, but I just couldn’t get past that here.