This short novel published by an anonymous author in 2006 retells the emotional downfall of a gaslighting abuser in the form of a fictional autobiography. The crude and unforgiving diction throughout paints a picture of a depraved and emotionally vulnerable man whose affect on others eventually leads to his own self loathing. The protagonist, a sort of modern flâneur, is an advertising agent in London who proudly expresses the pleasure he receives from emotionally abusing women. This pleasure however, is fleeting as his recently sobered mindspace is no longer providing him with the comfort of delusion. He now sees himself for what he is but is not remorseful, only uncomfortable. Despite this, he recounts his most prized abuses with a sense of indifference to its impact on the other characters in his stories. 

The novel demonstrates a recurring theme of unreliability from the narrator. He establishes early on that he never physically abused anyone but this is later contradicted by his increasingly violent exploits of women, typically sexually. Humility is a word that escapes his description. He is not afraid to compliment himself or advocate for his character, regardless of the events he so vivaciously preaches for the reader. These aspects spiral into a perfect storm of ruin that the narrator faces after having his own heart broken by an American woman. This dichotomy between his seemingly insignificant heartbreak and the trauma which he caused possesses the reader with a deep feeling of disdain for him.  The inability to feel empathy for this morally out of kilter male chauvinist provides an almost laughable contempt for any sympathy he tries to pull from the reader.

However, the witty and articulate writing draws even the most dissuaded away as even the most disgusting lines of text are written in such a way that is almost Shakespearean. It’s this eloquence of language juxtaposed with crude and disturbing spouts that allows the short 147 pages of text flow together in such an enticing manner that leaves one unable to put the book down despite the discomfort of what is written. The intoxicating fragility of ego and masculinity is the spine of this book. The narrator’s obliviousness to his own pomposity is what fuels the disgust embedded within most readers, and the utter depravity of one man’s heartache all but vomited onto the pages leaves this short and sweet novel a hidden gem of contemporary faux-romance.