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The only positive about this book was that it was well-written� in the most technical sense of the word. The pacing was okay (imo), the events kept coming one after the other to keep the plot flowing, and the writing style was engaging enough to keep me going to the end.

Where it fails is characterisation. To begin with, all the characters currently having a job have childhood dream jobs (mysterious high finance, television writing, something to do with films, formerly in advertising and now a bookshop, real estate agent). Where are the accountants, dentists' assistants, engineers, and blue-collar jobs? I'm not criticising them for pursuing social mobility, but when every character has a "glamorous" job, I'm calling amateur hour.

That impression is only reinforced by the only two gay men in the book: one is textbook camp and the straight white lead's best friend, and the other is an abusive asshole. Neither of these stereotypes is offset by more nuanced (or even varied!) gay characters, so when the book ends with a conversation about HIV, I was close to crying with frustration.

Most dislikeable of all was the main character. Cath's a size 14! With a lovely bit of sleight of hand, we're told she was a size 12 post-college, and she's put on weight and grey hairs with age. A real honest-to-god woman, the kind you might see in real life. I was fully prepared to follow the Real Exploits of a Three-Dimensional character before I realised this wasn't going to be that kind of book.

The first thing that smacked me in the face was her slut-shaming Ingrid, her friends' young, slim, haughty au pair who dresses up for a party and is seen leaving with James, the Designated Love Interest. Cath assumes that James was drooling over Ingrid and that the pair had sex because (I forget the exact phrasing but it was definitely similar to) Ingrid was asking for it. Cath's opinion is not criticised, but validated and shared by her friends. this is treated as okay. This was the point at which I should have closed the ebook, deleted it and scrubbed it clean off my computer.

Cath gets better, of course: she's a complete doormat. Her insecure best friend, Si of the Textbook Campiness, is in a destructive relationship with Will the Wanker, a villain so obvious that he ignores his boyfriend at parties and actively insults said boyfriend's friends. Cath finds out very early on that Will is universally disliked, and that he used to seriously harass and intimidate one of his juniors at work. CATH NEVER REVEALS THIS TO SI, OR TO ANYONE ELSE. She continues to let her (supposed) best friend, who is textbook prey for a textbook moustache-twirler, become emotionally dependent on this creep.

Cath has bigger problems: getting furious at her other friend, the lovely homey Lucy, for not chivvying her love life along. The sense of entitlement this woman has makes me furious: the Designated Love Interest has made his interest in Cath clear. When the ball is in her court, she ignores him, gets petty when he literally only just walks a girl out the door, expects him to meet her halfway when she has shown no reciprocal interest, and is angry because she got dressed up expecting to see him at a dinner but Lucy forgot to invite him. When the stupidly besotted James reaches out to her despite being rebuffed, Cath debates whether or not to respond. Her objections to dating anyone is that she's burned by her last relationship (which was a mostly sexual affair with a married older colleague) and that dating is exhausting. She admits that her friends all approve of James and he clearly likes her a lot� undercutting two of her own biggest objections. She STILL dithers about dating this sod because this isn't chick lit if the main couple gets together far too easily. Let's create artificial obstacles that make no fucking sense!

And James. Oh dear god. The formula of chick lit is quirky girl + compelling hunky heroic male lead + girl's cast of best friends. Dear Jamie had literally nothing to recommend himself; a more milquetoast man has never lived and pretended to be alluring and irresistible. And! He agents realty while painting on the side, and OF COURSE his art is as good as Monet's!

WHAT I LIKED ABOUT THIS BOOK:

� Absolutely everything else, if you can believe it. The side cast of best friends were excellent. Lucy, as the sensible, maternal, plump, confident Housewife With a Bookshop stereotype, was absolutely not stereotypical at all. Her ability to handle people from the supercilious, not particularly respectful Ingrid to the worldly, successful "sexpot" Portia was so subtle. She stays on good terms with everyone, while sticking up for herself and refusing to be intimidated, and it's written so smoothly that I wished Lucy, not Catty Cowardly Cathy, was the protagonist. Le sigh. She gets oddly upset by Cath's noxious state of singled, but one can't have everything.

� INGRID. OH MAN, INGRID. Although she should have been fired on the spot for being weirdly bossy with her employers, it's made clear that she's adored by her charge, the bratty Max, whom she patronises. Everything she does, everything she says, every subtle instance that she's good at her job, made me cheer. Pure gold, this one.