This book is a series of cliches and obvious metaphors. It's not clever, it's not introspective, it's not developed. There is nothing new about the characters or the situations Anna finds herself in. Every single conversation with her therapist (which was only, like, every other paragraph) made me want to rip my eyeballs out. This is the same morally ambiguous, bored housewife story we've had for decades, and I would disagree with those who are saying it offers any sort of nuance. I tried and tried to approach it as more than a bored housewife story and as a book that dealt with depression and mental instability, but it just rang hollow to me.
By the time we got to the heart of it - to the catalyst that pushes Anna past her breaking point and her subsequent unraveling - I was so detached from the characters and the story that it couldn't reel me back in. I recognized that the second half of the book was more interesting than the first, and I did feel for Anna, but...I don't know, by that point it just couldn't make up for the damage that had been done in the first half. (Which, I realize as I type this, is even more interesting now that I think about how that parallels the plot) Maybe I was just in a particularly cynical and misanthropic mood when I read it. I'll give it some time and try it again. I hate giving books 1 star reviews. But hey, 10/10 on cover art at least.