Patricia Engel is a talented writer, but she doesn't do much with it in this book. I know it is the reigning style to write this sort of book, with interconnected short stories substituting for a traditional plot, and I am also aware that the consequent emotional distancing is intentional. But unless one is David Mitchell, the result can be, and is in this book, a rather spare, empty experience. Engel focuses on the most shallow aspects of human experience, and one must wonder if she herself has actually experienced very little of life to think that the callow experiences of a spoiled young woman would be interesting enough to sustain such a novel. For me, it was not. One can only hope that she will turn her considerable talents to better use next time out.