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And I give up.

Twenty pages in and I was already regretting my choice of picking this book up. Now, after one hundred whole pages of this trash, I can't take it anymore.

How do I begin to explain this atrocity? One Day recounts the story of Emma and Dexter in a never-before-seen format - each chapter is the just the one day - July 15th - of each year of their lives. This could have had so much potential but the execution is just...agonizingly painful.

Now, Emma is a whiny, bitchy, insecure hipster who would much rather wear glasses than contacts, loves to feel sorry for herself WHEN THERE'S NO NEED TO and does NOTHING to fix her mess of a life, reads Dostovyesky and the like, shoves her taste for GOOD LITERATURE down Dexter's throat and, basically, cannot be happy unless she's fighting for a CAUSE.

Dexter, on the other hand, is a whiny, douchey, insecure nymphomaniac who is loaded with cash and no idea what to do with it, likes being made to constantly feel that he's AWESOME, has no clue about what he wants in life - all he wants is job which he can "brag about in a bar" and doesn't involve hard work - and, basically, cannot be happy unless he has a woman in his bed with him.

The biggest mystery in the pages I read, is HOW in the world these two fell for each other! The first time we meet them, they are strangers who just hooked up after running into each other at a party. Already Dex is thinking of leaving as soon as Em falls asleep, while she, on the other hand, is wondering to herself is he's THE ONE. A year after that, Dex is out travelling the world and sleeping with random women, while Em is working in D-grade plays wondering where her life is heading (No idea why she cant get herself a real job even though, as we are constantly reminded, she has a DOUBLE DEGREE). They are still in touch and have "feelings for each other" (when did that happen?)

A year after that, Dex is in Greece and STILL sleeping with random women, while Em has moved on from her dreams of becoming a playwright and now works in a greasy, run-down Mexican restaurant (why and how did she get here?) in the middle of nowhere - still no sign of a REAL JOB. A year after that, Dex is in India and trying to become a professional photographer while Em is STILL WORKING AT THAT DAMN RESTAURANT even though she hates it there (why she just doesn't pack up her bags and leave, is never made clear). A YEAR AFTER THAT, Dex is in the same town as Em, working as a TV presenter (apparently "he realized photography was not for him, and besides, "I'm a TV presenter" sounded more impressive"), flaunting women in front of the love-lorn Em, who, by the way? Mexican Restaurant.

You see? It's utterly maddening! Since each chapter is a year apart, lots of the "in between" details are missed out which is why it feels like there is absolutely no connection between the chapters. Though, the author tries hard to bridge the gap. Too hard.

Sample this example - In one chapter, we are introduced to Ian, Em's new coworker, who asks her out but she declines as she is not interested and the chapter ends abruptly after that. In the beginning of the next chapter, the author reminds us - Hey! The two chapters are connected! It's the continuation of the same story! My story IS progressing but I'm not going to explain any of it to you. No, really! I'll prove it to you by not at all understating it and hitting you on the head with it! Look, look! -- "The other staff scoffed. 'Why is it always me?' moaned Ian. 'Because you do it so beautifully,' said his best friend Emma"

Subtle, Mr.Nicholls, very subtle.

Moaning and groaning, I forced myself to read on - much like how Harry forces Dumbledore to drink the potion in the Cave - and after, about a hundred pages, when they are at a nudist beach by accident and Dex is trying to convince Em to take her clothes off while she's saying no (this goes on for a bit), I read this -

She leant forward, put her hand on his wrist. 'I think we should tell each other something that the other person doesn‘t know.'
'What, like a secret?'
'Exactly, a secret, something surprising, one a night every night for the rest of the holiday.'
'Okay. You first.'
'No, you first.'
'Why me first?'
'You've got more to choose from.'
And it was true, he had an almost bottomless supply of secrets. He could tell her that he‘d watched her getting dressed that night, or that he‘d left the bathroom door open on purpose when he showered. He could tell her that he‘d smoked heroin with Naomi, or that just before Christmas he‘d had fast, unhappy sex with Emma‘s flatmate Tilly Killick; a foot massage that had spun horribly out of control while Emma was at Woolworths buying fairy lights for the tree. But perhaps it would be better to go for something that didn‘t reveal him as shallow or seedy, duplicitous or conceited.
He thought for some time.
'Okay, here goes.' He cleared his throat. 'A couple of weeks ago at this club, I got off with this guy.'

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is when I stopped reading, because my brain exploded.