Thirty-five-year-old Andy is a mediocre comedian, wallowing
in self-pity. His breakup with Jen has
rocked his world, and even his longtime friends no longer want to hang out with
him. Dolly Alderton, please do not write
another book like this, as a whiny novel does not make for a good read. I loved
Ghosts
and kept expecting this novel to veer in a more positive direction or for Andy to
incorporate some of his more outrageous post-breakup experiences into his
comedy routine. His short-lived
residence on a boat, his therapy session under false pretenses, and his
landlord’s correspondence with Julian Assange would all seem to provide some
good fodder for laughter, and I guess they do eventually. However, we don’t receive any real relief
from Andy’s pathetic obsession until late in the novel when Jen explains
exactly why she had to end her relationship with him. Any sympathy that I could muster for Andy
went straight down the tubes after hearing her side of the story. I would be more optimistic that Andy has
learned from this experience if Jen would share with him what went wrong.
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