Unsettling, unpleasant and even upsetting at times, but compelling nonetheless.

Usually, when I finish a book, I know exactly what rating I'm going to give it. Then, every so often, I come across a book that leaves me totally confused at the end, and unable to untangle my thoughts on it. This is one of those books. 

Lucy has just broken up with her boyfriend. One complete breakdown involving doughnuts and physical assault later, she ends up on Venice Beach, living in her sister's home and babysitting her dog, Dominic. 

She's also attending a group therapy session for love addicts; filled with women who she mocks ruthlessly. After hooking up with a couple of guys for casual sex, she meets a lone swimmer in the sea, who says his name is Theo. Turns out that Theo is a merman, and lo and behold, they end up having a racy love affair, involving lots of complexities brought about by their difference in bodily form. 

At the end, she has a tough decision to make - the big question is, does she make the right one?

Okay, so let's start with what I did like about this book. I loved the author's writing style. It's full of sass and brutal, unapologetic honesty, and it was compelling to read. In spite of the way-out-there storyline, it felt convincing, which is a hard thing to pull off. 

I also appreciated the exploration of love addiction. There were several sections that felt very raw and emotional (without descending into slushy sentimentality) - and these moments really grabbed my attention. They were definitely the stand-out parts. 

However, I'll be honest, there was quite a lot about this book that I really didn't like at all. It's unusual for me to have such a visceral reaction - I'm normally quite mild-mannered in my approach. BUT - that in itself is interesting, and shouldn't be disregarded. After all, the author made me feel something. I may not have enjoyed those feelings, but it's better than being bored, eh? 

The overtly explicit sex scenes were (in my opinion) way over the top and unnecessary. There seemed to be endless descriptions of her receiving oral sex and these were the sections that I found tedious. To be honest, I think there are many ways to convey sex in a book without resorting to very long, drawn-out, graphic descriptions - it's a shame, because her writing was cleverly crafted aside from this. 

The biggest problem area for me, though, was Lucy herself - and her vile, vile actions. I know, I know; she's an addicted character, and we as readers are meant to see just how self-centred an addiction can make you. I didn't necessarily have an issue with her behaviour itself, as I realise it illustrated the point. What I did have a massive problem with was that the author didn't seem to be condemning the behaviour. She essentially treats her co-therapy women with utter contempt and mockery - but this is all conveyed as a good laugh. She treats men as disposable items, and again, this seems to be passed off as totally acceptable. And as for what she does to the dog? I'm a massive animal-lover, so it probably upset me more than most - but it was horrible. Her pseudo-remorse afterwards made it even worse. 

Likewise, the sudden flip at the end, of making the merman a kind of villain...hang on a moment, are we meant to sympathise with Lucy? Are we meant to think 'oh okay, you completely used him, but now you're within your rights to judge him then walk away'? I didn't like it - sorry! 

Ahem. (Note to self to calm down). I'd just like to emphasise, for the record, that I do appreciate that the book got me ranting and raging a little. I'd much rather experience some sort of emotion while reading, than complete eyelid-drooping ennui. But I'll be honest, it wasn't a pleasurable reading experience for me, hence the rating.

Sex and the Fishy!

Our heroine Lucy breaks up with her boyfriend and goes to visit her sister in LA.  She is in charge of the apartment and her sister's beloved dog - what could go wrong?

Lucy joins a therapy group to try and address her love and neediness issues.  The group sessions provide humour as Lucy decided that compared to most of the other members she is doing fine. I laughed at Lucy's attempts to get up to speed with current dating requirements, the image of her clutching a pack of frozen beans to her poor waxed pubis had me giggling. 

Having decided that Tinder is not going to come up with the goods Lucy takes to hanging out on the beach and here she meets Theo.  He seems a little shy as he stays in the sea, turns out he is a merman.  Of course he is.

Well then rather than being a little wary as suggested by her therapy group Lucy embarks on a passionate affair with a fishman.  Funnily enough the beloved dog is suspicious of the merman so Lucy tranquilises the dog. Apparently mermen are quite happy with period sex (I was worried about sharks - or is that just me?).  The sex is a right old romp, 'Fuck me with your triton' is one of my all time favourite lines.

However as we all know from the fairy tales, mermen aren't all they are cracked up to be.  Theo turns out to be a little bit too needy himself, perhaps he has lived on Venice Beach for too long?

Perhaps not the book to lend to your mother, but an entertaining erotic fish tail (get it?!).

Hip, smart, incisive, neurotic, sexually-explicit, oddly romantic, gross in places, startlingly intellectual in others - Broder's novel is absolutely contemporary and while it reaches out to the work of Lena Dunham and Phoebe Waller-Bridge, amongst others, it also has a unique personality and individuality of its own. 

Our cast-adrift heroine is 38 and in between Tinder hook-ups, the women's group meetings, and agonising about her lost boyfriend, she's writing a long-overdue PhD thesis about the spaces in Sappho's poetry - and this image of nothingness and how we decide to fill it is what gives the book both a kind of coherence as well as some emotional and intellectual heft. 

Into this hiatus comes Theo - a beautiful merman! - and it's to Broder's credit that the whimsy fits in right along with the other elements of Lucy's life; indeed, musing about the Homeric sirens of Greek mythology as mermaids, ties Theo more thematically to everything else than we might expect. 

With due attention to the female body in all its physicality - from sex to sexual infections, from pee to menstrual blood - Broder is bold and sometimes dark in her refusal to be 'nice'. I enjoyed this hugely both for its re-writing of the tropes of chick-lit and its cognate genres of 'women's writing', as well as its sheer exuberant delight in storytelling. Who knew mixing modern female existential angst with a sexy merman would be so potent? Brava, Ms Broder - I'm putting my money on this as one to watch in 2018. Oh, and such a wonderful offbeat cover!