Where to begin with this stupid book? OK. Well, first this book doesn't really know what it is supposed to be. Is it chicklit? Is it a Holocaust story? Is it a tale of workplace woe? Is it an ironic tale of the absurd? I don't know and neither does this book. Second, the characters are two dimensional at best. I'd say maybe a dimension and a half. They are like something someone from junior high school would make in their creative writing class if they were assigned a story about what it's like to be grown up. There is no depth. Third, in my opinion this book was written by a person who thinks she's a good writer and nobody in her life wanted to tell her the truth: that she's not. The story is all over the place and absurd. Spelling and grammar and punctuation are inconsistent. Was there no editor? Was there no spellcheck? Even the kid in junior high would spellcheck! There are multiple points of view and the narration meanders between them without warning. The dialogue is stilted. As I said, the characters are two dimensional. I found myself flipping past several pages of the book many times and never once felt like I'd missed anything. The best part of this story was the sections about the main character's (Sheila) place of work and the antics that went on there. Apparently all antics and no work is what workplaces are about, which I guess is what the author thinks goes on in the workplace because she's watched a few episodes of "The Office" maybe? The workplace characters are cliched and exaggerated and yet because of that there are occasional glimpses of humor because who among us has does not have an office psycho? I mean, really. (Note: if you can't think of anyone, it's probably you.) The worst part of this book is the pathetic attempt of a Holocaust narative which is again filled with cliches and an attempt to make the reader feel sorry for Germans and how bad they were persecuted during World War II. Oh boo hoo. Your regular average (non Jewish) German person pretty much lived the high life compared to the millions of Jewish people carted off to concentration camps to be gassed to death, worked to death, and tortured for no other reason but being Jewish. Yes, I feel bad for the German people's hardship. Let me get out my violin and play cry those Germans a river while they lived in the confiscated homes they were given. The point of the Holocaust narative, if you can actually believe it, is so that Sheila, who many times the reader is reminded is 36 years old (oh the horror! What an old maid! She's not married and doesn't havea boyfriend any more!), who had been dumped by her live in boyfriend of 7 years, would learn that other people have suffered more than she has. (WHAT?!) But Sheila is obviously an ignoramous who lives in a sheltered bubble filled with shallow friends and a shallow lifestyle, couldn't observe the world around her to absorb any sort of suffering any where (she lives in NYC--are there no homeless people?! Did 9/11 not happen?!) and that without someone having to relay her own personal life story (as offensive as that was) about the war. Duh. Anyone who gets to age 36 and never heard the phrase "A high tide rises all boats" nor understand it when she hears it, deserves what she gets. Finally, the end of the story just wraps everything up in a nice little bow and Sheila gets to live happily ever after. Because that's what happens in real life. All the time. Typically I do not write reviews this long because either someone wants to read the book or doesn't and probably won't be pursuaded by my thoughts, but I am pleading: DO NOT READ THIS BOOK. And the pathetic pleas to "follow" and "like" the author on FB, twitter, her webpage, and all the other media that she listed at the end of the book, I have to say: get a life. A high tide rises all boats and this boat will find a better dock. Good riddance! PS: what does Sheila find out any way? That she's not the fucking center of the universe? Jeezus. Seriously.