She said it was cute and I might enjoy it.
It was and I did.
It's interesting, yet perhaps predictable, that my expectations tend to be lower for books which I chance upon in this manner.
Expectations, while unavoidable, are dangerous. It's too bad that we can't experience every new book, movie, musician, TV show, etc. with a clean slate.
But that's not what I'm talking about here.
Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress is a memoir of a woman growing up in New York City in the 70s.
This book was enjoyable and mildly amusing. Through most of it, it was a quiet smile or a slight chuckle, although I have to admit that I laughed out loud several times as she was discussing her experiences as a new ex-pat in Geneva.
Gilman self-effacingly describes her foibles as a misfit in a way that makes it hard not to relate to her, even if your experiences do not mirror hers.