Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine

by Gail Honeyman

If the book has one failing, it’s that there is insufficient mention of Pilot. You can’t have too much dog in a book.

As if a silver in the egg-and-spoon race was some sort of compensation for not understanding how to use an apostrophe.

Social interaction, it appeared, was surprisingly expensive—the travel, the clothes, the drinks, the lunches, the gifts. Sometimes it evened out in the end—like with the drinks—but, I was finding out, more often than not, one incurred a net financial loss.

There was no hope, things couldn’t be put right. I couldn’t be put right. The past could neither be escaped nor undone.