♪♫♫♪I came in to the library like a wreeeeecccckkkkkkiiiiiinnnnnng ball. ♪♫♫♪
Now that I’m finished? I could have saved myself a lot of trouble and simply read the synopsis because it TELLS. THE. ENTIRE.STINKING. STORY. Not even kidding. The only thing you’ll gain by reading the whole book rather than only the blurb are all of the up-close-and-personal descriptions of various odoriferous atrocities that, trust me, you will be able to smell alllllllll the way through the pages . . . . .
Don’t get your tinsel in a tangle and tell me I read this wrong because this is one of those extremely rare occasions where I’m nearly certain I did not. You see, this should have been my idea of a great time. The unreliable narrator is my favorite narrator of all, the mere mention of this story taking a “Hitchcockian twist” had me squeeing like a schoolgirl, and boy do I prefer the dark and stormy over the sunshine and unicorn fart. Eileen is a book that will draw polarized ratings/review and it all boils down to how the writing strikes you. Sadly the writing struck me as pretty much “meh.”
Not only was I not drawn in by the wordsmithing, but there was also the problem I had with Eileen herself. I realize she was a sad soul who had created (or felt force to create) this unsexed, frumpy, almost revolting persona in order to protect herself from hinted about harsh realities of her life, and I’m not so inhuman I couldn’t pity her – but I also didn’t really give a rip about her story.
No one is more disappointed than I am that Eileen was a fail for me. Not only do I now have to tackle the issue of both of our long-term relationships AND the teensie little fact that David is not sexually attracted to women before I can be with my soulmate, but now we don’t even like the same books . . . . .
Because David Sedaris said to.