Reading, for me, is entertainment and an escape from the real world. But it can also inform and stretch the boundaries of the life I live.
I can see why some people love this book. But, as a person who reads for entertainment first and growth/reflection/self-improvement second, it was an exercise in endurance. It falls firmly in the literary category of brussels sprouts - good for you but not terribly palatable. What started as somewhat amusing self-awareness, by the end had reached a crescendo of self-pitying, hateful, whining that made me want to beat my head against the wall. Had I been reading a bound copy rather than listening on audio, I almost certainly would have either abandoned it or started skimming the text to get to the end faster. But on audio, Colin Firth's delicious, delicious voice buttered it enough to let me clean my plate.