By Kerry Cohen. Eh... It was alright. I finished it in a matter of 5 days. This is Cohen's memoir of promiscuity. It wasn't amazing, but not totally terrible. It was sad little rich girl growing up thinking her parents don't love her enough. Zzzz… there wasn't anything that really sucked you in. Nothing incredibly shocking.
There was one part where Cohen describes a memory of her mother groping her older sister's breasts while watching television, letting that daughter know that feeling her breasts can be a source of pleasure. This particular thing is never mentioned again. Perhaps it was Cohen's way of showing her readers that Tyler, older sister, was the mother's favorite. But it was an abrupt addition to the book, which I couldn't follow and was left thinking, "WTF?!"
Starting another memoir tonight called Bloodletting... I hope it delves deep! In comparison anyway...