I found this book to be a refreshing surprise! There have been a spate of novels in recent years of introspective female protagonists, without much in the way of plot. Most of what I've read, I didn't care for because there was nothing to connect me emotionally to these characters. However, Attenberg brought to life a woman that was so very compelling and impossible not to root for, even if she was infuriating at times. Well, a lot of the time! But, Andrea just seems so real, like someone I know, used to know, or parts of someone I used to be. I felt like I was able to understand her modus operandi, which I think is lacking in many introspective narratives, and her emotions just leap off the page:

"The permanence of my impermanence. I stand in possession of it. I stand before him at the entrance to a subway station, in possession of nothing but myself. Myself is everything, I want to tell him. But to him it is nothing, because that's how he feels about himself right now. He is alone, and so he nothing. How do I explain to him that what applies to him does not apply to me? His context is not my context. How do you blow up the bus you've been forced to ride your entire life? It wasn't your fault there were not other means of transportation available"

Her family is also written with such authenticity, and I adored the interactions between her and her mother. Especially when she quips to Andrea:

"I'm just saying you've lived without me appearing regularly in your life before, you'll do it again."

I was also caught off guard by the way the book was structured. It read like a collection of short stories, or pages ripped from a diary and told out of order - but in juuuust the right way for the author to paint a full portrait of Andrea's life. This was jarring at first, feeling like I was on a fast moving train and looking out the window, only to go through a tunnel and end up in a different time and place. One minute I'd be laughing at her cheeky wit, and the next I'd be reeling from an emotional gut punch. It seemed symbolic of her life:

"Her life is architected, elegant and angular, a beauty to behold, and mine is a stew, a juicy, sloppy mess of ingredients and feelings and emotions, too much salt and spice, too much anxiety, always a little dribbling down the front of my shirt. But have you tasted it? Have you tasted it. It's delicious."

This 'stew' unfolded in an exceeding clever way, layering tension and suspense to a novel that is not plot driven, yet kept me turning the pages. I read it in two nights of "just one more chapter, just one more chapter..." It's barely over 200 pages, so even if it doesn't necessarily sound up your alley, I'd HIGHLY recommend giving it the short amount of time it takes to read. It is, indeed, delicious.

Many thanks to Houghton Mifflin Harcourt for an advance copy for my review.
(For more reviews and bookish musings: http://www.bornandreadinchicago.com/)