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|buy=Yes

|borrow=Yes

|pages=304

|publisher=Penguin

|amazonus=<amazonus>0061916048</amazonus>

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There is a certain type of modern fiction I just cannot get along with. It's a narrative that features a concentration on a main character that goes through his plot with unhappiness, making wrong decisions perhaps, getting crapped on by life, and discussing his woes with the reader. I get to the end and think nothing of it, until I read the blurb, where I find the book was supposed to be hilariously funny, the character an insincere cypher for our lives and times, and the whole thing an ironic masterpiece - I should have been disbelieving, disagreeing and dis-everything else with the hapless hero. I hate such books - I always only see the sincerity in the narrative, and never the comedy. Thankfully, such is never the case with this book.

This is a book for the female reader, too, however well evoked the male protagonist is. I don't see a chick-lit read such as [[Hedge Fund Wives by Tatiana Boncompagni]] to cross genres, however great that is at covering similar ground. For the truth behind the fiction here we recommend [[The Fall of the House of Credit by Alistair Milne]].

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