Sasha has had it. She cannot bring herself to respond to another inane, “urgent” (but obviously not at all urgent) email or participate in the corporate employee joyfulness program. She hasn’t seen her friends in months. Sex? Seems like a lot of effort. Even cooking dinner takes far too much planning. Sasha has hit a wall.Armed with good intentions to drink kale smoothies, try yoga, and find peace, she heads to the seaside resort she loved as a child. But it’s the off season, the hotel is in a dilapidated shambles, and she has to share the beach with the only other a grumpy guy named Finn, who seems as stressed as Sasha. How can she commune with nature when he’s sitting on her favorite rock, watching her? Nor can they agree on how best to alleviate their burnout ( manifesting, wild swimming; drinking whisky, getting pizza delivered to the beach).When curious messages, seemingly addressed to Sasha and Finn, begin to appear on the beach, the two are forced to talk—about everything. How did they get so burned out? Can either of them remember something they used to love? (Answer: surfing!) And the question they try and fail to ignore: what does the energy between them—flaring even in the face of their bone-deep exhaustion—signify?
As with most Sophie Kinsella books, this was funny and fun. It also felt timely and was a quick read. It wasn't my favorite of hers but a solid, solid effort and you won't be disappointed if you're a fan of her zany characters. I loved the setting as well. Definitely add this one to your TBR pile!
My flat is a shambles. Everywhere I look I see the evidence of some task I've been intending to do, from the unopened tester paint pots to the exercise bands I was going to use to the dead plants to the magazines I haven't read. It was Mum who gave me the subscription to Women's Health. Mum, who works at an estate agency and does Pilates and has a full face of makeup on before 7 A.M. every day.She makes me feel like a complete failure. How does she do it? By my age she was married and making lasagna every night for Dad. I have one job. One flat. No children. But still life feels impossible.
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