It’s dark, and it’s funny especially with the narrations. I picked this book up as it came as one of the top reads of 2026, and I wanted to choose a modern contemporary one, on the YouTube channel by Jack Edwards. He also recommends this book to Anne Hathaway, describing the book as the story of “a broke writer who wants to deliver a bestseller, and famously searches on Reddit how to write a bestseller? And is given the answer as: be broke, be sad, be gay”.. and Anne Hathaway is so excited hearing this, saying “give me, give me, give me!!”
With that line, he sold the book for me, and I wanted to read it through. Read it on Kindle, and finished this in 2 days.
Another bonus was that this story takes place in Northern London, covering Crouch end and Tufnell Park.. I was reading through on Wikipedia, I was also scrolling through the place descriptions to get a mental picture on where the story is situated in..
The lampshade above my head–one of the three hanging over the kitchen island–is shaped like an upside-down pasta dish. Lots of people have them, so I was reluctant, but I loved the colour. They’re not actually from Pooky, but John Lewis. The outside is pewter–a sort of rustic grey-brown–and the inside is a shiny copper. That was important when I chose them, because it makes the light muted, and slightly orange. I wanted to get the tone perfectly correct, to match the Hague Blue of the kitchen cabinets. The orange and blue combination is so satisfying to me. Sometimes I just stand and look at the scene. This looks good, I think. This looks so good.
And you have more such descriptions, with names, places, people, objects around London, which made me learn a lot of posh brands..
Some memorable quotes:
Not that it matters, but I’m not technically a therapist, despite what I tell my friends, and my patients. It’s just a little loophole. To many people the word counsellor and therapist are interchangeable. I took a twelve-week diploma course in Introduction to Counselling from the Online University, and no one has told me I can’t call myself a therapist. Everyone else on the Find a Therapist portals seems to. Ronan said its fine. He actively encouraged it. Therapist sounds better than counsellor. And anyway, it’s all the same thing. They’re mostly quacks. And you’re a successful author, so people will believe you.
Never knew that you could just take an online course, and call yourself a counsellor, which people interchangeably use with therapist. For therapist, you would definitely need a license, but the usage is scrambled up..
After our first ever kiss, all those years ago, the first thing Ronan affectionately told me was that I needed to floss and not just brush. My mother never encouraged me and my brother Nick to floss. Just a quick scrub would suffice, she’d say. She was a busy woman and didn’t care for materialistic things, like floss. Ronan said it was completely disgusting to live like that, especially in adulthood, and still I’m not sure if he was being serious–it’s hard to know sometimes with all his Irish charm–but the outcome is that I now spend an extra five minutes doing it every night. He never mentioned it again.
Flossing is good! Five more minutes a day..
I’m very much aware I am not a special case, but something about the way they look at me does make me feel good. They like having people like me that they can talk about in the office, chatting about all the terrible shit that’s happened, looking through history notes, wanting to be the one who says the thing that changes my life. I can picture it: when they go home to their families. There’s this one patient–God, I hope he makes it. I feel like I made a breakthrough with him today. He’s only twenty-two.
On gossip in mental health facilities..
He points to the book, open next to me. ‘Shakespeare on a Saturday? Sounds lovely.’ He picks it up, turning it in his hands. ‘Pericles. Interesting. I didn’t know you liked that one.’ ‘It’s underrated,’ I lie. ‘I think Taming of the Shrew is underrated,’ he says quickly. He then winks playfully, but the brazenness to his words does something to my insides–a sudden injection of cortisol that makes the muscles in my stomach clench. Fight or flight. Fight or flight.
Not read Taming of the Shrew yet, would like to pick it up, and I hope it’s not another tragedy where the protagonist ends up dead..
AM A POTATO Head is black Like a dead potato. Those little holes they get Are all over me Going deeper than they look Rotting the inside Of my brain My stomach My soul Heading to the core But They don’t reach it The core stays intact where no one looks It remains Pure, untouched potato.
