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It's actually shocking how terrible this is despite all the hype it got. Did you know Patric Gagne is a sociopath? She will brag about it and about how special she is on every single page! She will also tell you over and over again what a Bad Girl she is for..."stealing cars" aka being handed keys to cars from drunk frat boys and driving them around for an hour and then bringing them back. Girl, you did not!!! We also have to hear about her work as a "music executive" – a job she got because daddy is rich and gave it to her straight out of college – and how amazing she is at her job because she's a sociopath. Sure!

The premise of this memoir is that a real live sociopath is going to tell you about her wild little sociopath life and we're all going to be shocked. The premise is ALSO that this little sociopath got her PhD in...psychology! Because she is the only person who has ever bothered to research sociopathy and decides that she needs to be the one to "cure it." Instead of going on a journey into what she discovers in her research and work, we have to listen to her complain about her coworkers who say they're sociopaths but are NOT (because no one is as special as Patric) and go on very detailed, pages-long car theft journeys to gas stations where she buys chips and then returns the car. With fewer than a hundred pages left, Patric has her one millionth revelation that if no one can treat her, she's going to treat herself and help others! And she tells us she gets really into her research for a minute, but doesn't really share anything about it aside from how annoyed she is that she has to treat patients as part of her clinical requirement. Finally, in the epilogue, she explains that after years of research she has figured out the fix for sociopathy! It took her years and multiple degrees to discover CBT, something any 12-year-old who has been to therapy a few times can discuss in more detail than Patric does in a book she wrote about psychology. I cannot. I truly do not believe this woman took a Psych 101 class in college, let alone completed a PhD program in clinical psychology. But after doing exposure therapy – for her, sitting in her car I guess? – she's now totally chill.

Not only is her poor little rich girl childhood and nepo baby adulthood boring as fuck, she's also simply not a good writer and the dialogue is some of the most painful stuff I've ever read. As she recounts hours-long conversations with her therapist, her dad, her professor, a librarian, random friends, her now husband, and everyone else she's ever spoken to, it's hard to believe she has ever witnessed another conversation with a human being. It's the dialogue you'd get if this book wasn't a memoir but rather a Lifetime movie complete with bad quippy one-liners. The therapist stuff is especially weak as Patric goes on endless tangents during her visits �� largely about her 'brilliant' theories in a field she is absolutely not qualified to discuss, though our girl LOVES the Cleckley checklist! �� and the therapist just sits there slowly nodding her head as if she is in awe or fear or just wants Patric to shut the fuck up? Unclear tbh.

There is no one more insufferable than someone who thinks they're interesting and clever writing a book about how interesting and clever they are when they are the opposite. A swing and a very hard miss.