Lucy has been writing her dissertation about Sappho for thirteen years when she and Jamie break up. After she hits rock bottom in Phoenix, her Los Angeles-based sister insists Lucy housesit for the summer—her only tasks caring for a beloved diabetic dog and trying to learn to care for herself. Annika’s home is a gorgeous glass cube atop Venice Beach, but Lucy can find no peace from her misery and anxiety—not in her love addiction group therapy meetings, not in frequent Tinder meetups, not in Dominic the foxhound’s easy affection, not in ruminating on the ancient Greeks. Yet everything changes when Lucy becomes entranced by an eerily attractive swimmer one night while sitting alone on the beach rocks.
I can tell this will be a love or hate book. I wanted to like it, but it was just too sad. Lucy needs more than group therapy. She needs intensive work with mental health professionals and not a group of woman who believe they are addicted to love.
Lucy is close to 40 and really should know better. But she doesn’t. She is self-destructive and careless with other people’s lives. I don’t think there is much humor in sex addictions or self harming. There was not a funny moment in this book. It just felt exploitive and very sad.
NetGalley/Hogarth May 1st, 2018