If only the student who gave me this book as a Christmas present had submitted an essay all year (though he actually was one of the best students I've ever had, and I hope he got his act together for his exam!).
Despite taking place mostly in the narrator's own flat, this book is so clearly a "New York book". The plot is so disturbingly believable that I wondered whether the author hadn't gone through similar periods herself (maybe not quite a year's worth of drugged up oblivion, but a few weeks).
It's very well-written and (in a twisted way, obviously) pleasant. Yet it raises so many questions about our society, access to medicines, self-medication, depression etc., and a number of the answers are fairly cringeworthy...
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