This book was not what I was expecting. I've been a fan of Anna's photography for years now, and I was expecting something... More creative? Maybe analytical? This book is a memoir, so it is hard to critique because of that, but this fell flat for me. At times it felt like "Okay, I see the dots you are laying out, and in the end will have this conclusion," but that never came. At times this felt like diary entries or stream of consciousness, which is fine, but I originally thought she'd analyze some of her feelings and beliefs more in depth, maybe go into some history of misogyny in general and in medical fields in specific. But nope.
At times, she came off as your stereotypical white lady who likes the occult and bitches to her friends over brunch about that thing X person said (we all know the type I'm talking about), which was really annoying and made for a dragging experience.

I guess I thought this book would be one thing, and ended up being another.