Picked this book because of its cover. A staunch feminist colleague of mine (who has taught me a couple of valuable lessons) uses a picture by the same artist as her avatar, so I just assumed this book would have been at least insightful.
Instead, this was without a doubt the worst book I've read this year.
Obviously, you don't need to like a book's main character in order to like the book, but you have to find him/her at the very least remotely interesting. Instead, the book's protagonist is a selfish entitled brat with misguided ideas about her academic value. Still, I can find a way to live with that.
What I can't live with is the constant feeling that the author finds her creation (and herself, by default?) hilarious. It's just irritating.
Also: what kind of supposed feminist spends her time talking about how hot someone is?!?
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