I read Shopgirl, Martin's other bestselling novella, last weekend, and while I wouldn't call it "fantastic," the characters stuck with me all week. It was a mediocre story with exceptional heart (and yes, that is a bit of a nod to Martin's occasional turn toward the prosaic).

The Pleasure of My Company is the apple to Shopgirl's orange. There really is no comparison. While Martin's earlier work is occasionally funny, it is primarily somber and deals with heavy subjects (clinical depression, cheating) in a heavy way. TPomC, on the other hand, sees the humor in mental illness reflected through its endearing protagonist's search for love. It is much more what one would expect were they familiar with Martin's manic stand up persona from the 1970's.

The story of Daniel Pecan Cambridge, a peculiar but brilliant man who is not merely eccentric, but suffering from myriad nondescript emotional and mental disorders (one can piece together a diagnosis including, but not limited to, OCD, Agoraphobia, Social Anxiety Disorder, Asperger Syndrome, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and Borderline Personality Disorder, replete with delusions of grandeur). But, Daniel's story is not a sad one. Neither is he simply a clown for the reader's amusement (though one will be amused. I seemed a bit nuts, myself, laughing out loud in an otherwise silent Starbucks). Martin draws a realistic, endearing, and utterly insane character with whom I could absolutely identify. And, most importantly, over the course of a mere 150 pages, Daniel *grows.* There is a perceivable arc of emotional development that is missing even in some more erudite fiction. What Martin has produced is a charmingly maniacal romp with real emotional depth and a bizarre "hook," reminiscent of Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time.

But, funnier. Way funnier.