Hmm... I have had my fair share of trouble with American prose throughout the years and this book didn't help the cause. Basically, this was about a bunch of plastic Barbies and Kens, living in their plastic houses, nodding politely their hollow plastic heads while twaddling some blunt-robotic-uninteresting-pretentious-jibberish. And talk they did a lot. I mean - this book is structured almost entirely on conversations. If you are looking for any descriptions, emotions, subtleties, innuendos - there is no trace of them here. The topic is laid neatly and obviously in front of you and you just need to lean back with a box of popcorn and watch the Blockbuster. Just be warned that there is a good chance you might fall asleep during the opening credits.