" I give up. Today, at page 171, I am deciding to stop reading this book. This is something I don't do all that often and don't do without a degree of discomfort (guilt even?) Funny thing is, it isn't completely horrible. I just can't seem to care about it or look forward to reading it. It may be that I don't have an appreciation for the L.A. life, but I mostly find Josie's character and her world to be a bit much. And maybe even unbelievable. The story is told through the eyes of Josie, and she is both cynical and emotionally immature, yet she makes these profound and hopeful and insightful observations. I recognize we are all full of contradictions, but I didn't find her credible. The depiction of grief, which seems to be an attempt at portraying the raw grit of it all, came off as heavy-handed and relentless. I have not read White Oleander, which I am told is much better. Perhaps I will give that a try someday. "
— Allisun, 1/9/2014