What a nice surprise this book is. When I began reading it, I wasn’t so sure about it. The narrator, Clementine Pritchard, seemed to speak as though she were trying to show off how clever she is, and at times, it comes off a bit strained. However, that strained cleverness does have an underlying point — Clementine is very, very sad and tired of life, and making jokes keeps her functional. She’s decided to spend a month getting her affairs in order, and then she’s going to kill herself. Each chapter is titled with how many days she has left to go. Eventually, I settled into her voice and her situation, and the interesting thing about the book is that I found myself not necessarily rooting for her life one way or the other. When it comes to a subject as touchy as suicide, that’s an interesting mental space in which to be.
(My full review appears on Glorified Love Letters.)