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The complete nosedive in the writing of women is bewildering. Every female character we remember, and the ones we meet, are pregnant or dead. We nearly get to the end of the book before Nina's married and bred up. The random brutal transmisogyny that serves no purpose, shit from a writer who's proven his deftness at world-building and characters. Disappointing.
You can finish this in two hours. A double-feature episode of mid-aughts Criminal Minds with a practical effect budget to rival God's—go into this with a sense of humor. The narrator is much like the author, I assume: a white straight guy unclear on where he stands regarding altered ability philosophy or consciousness transplants, but ready and willing to bite a dick off. Knuckle through a snooze ending for American Guinea Pig fun. If you find that kind of thing fun. I do. 
this book was written for lousie's. the girls who like girls who would let said girl strip them naked on the beach and finger them during an opera and then kill them because it's all too much. this book was written for me and for girls like me. i read this at the perfect time. thanks tara.
"he was reading a book with a gun and a rose on the cover"