This book is supposed to be funny?! I kept waiting for the amusement as I waded through increasingly appalling characters that were not likable, interesting, or remotely relatable. Crazy and abusive is not quirky and lovable. Well I suppose there is a way to write it that way, but this is written with a tinge of bitterness. What is so amusing about royally screwing up a child's life?

Between books I'd try to get back into this story that was ok but not good enough to grab my attention. But it's a best seller and raved about how hilarious the book is so I kept trying to stick through it. I'm all for sad memoirs, but such flagrant abuse of every kind, the kind that require years of therapy, presented without love or reconciliation is not my kind of humor. Then to discover these crimes are mostly fabricated events about true people and I am supposed to take that kind of defamation with a laugh?

The story progressed from disturbing to all shades of disgusting until the filth was too much for me. I browsed a few of the later chapters, read the end, but nope there was no redemption, no coming to terms, nothing but a sick disaster. I'm not sure what all the craze is about unless it's solely popular amidst sociopaths who like to beat up little kids on Halloween and take their candy.