So, listen: I got this package in the mail. But the thing is, it came addressed to me, at My Guy’s house, a place where I don’t get mail.
And I was almost 100% certain I hadn’t ordered anything.
And it couldn’t have been a gift from a friend because they didn’t have the address.
And I didn’t recognize the sender.
Obviously, it had to be a bomb.
But maybe it wasn’t?
I groped the package. It felt like the size of a book, or maybe a DVD.
Maybe it was porn? Did someone send me porn?
I tore open a tiny corner of the envelope, just enough to peer inside, but not enough—hopefully—to set off the bomb.
I looked inside.
It was a book!
My next thought was, Is there going to be anthrax in this book?
And then my next thought was, Too bad it’s not porn.
Anyway, apparently one day I signed up on this website to be a possible book reviewer for this book, and then immediately forgot all about it.
Now, I think there are a few lessons we can learn from this experience.
1) If you, for some reason, wanted to try to kill me, why, just go ahead and send me that mail bomb because I am going to open it because I just HAVE TO KNOW what’s inside. Oh, what’s inside is a bomb? Okay, well now I know.
2) Maybe it’s not a great idea to sign up for things on websites you don’t regularly visit, unless of course you love surprises AND being confused.
3) Porn makes a great gift. When in doubt, send the porn.
So, okay. I got this book in the mail, and I read it, and now I’m supposed to write a review. Here we go.
First of all, part of the reason I signed up to review this book is because I take issue with the title. I eat so-called ‘Sad Desk Salads’ all the time and I think they’re great, not sad at all! Sure, if you get some kind of take-out/chain restaurant grilled-chicken-breast-topped salad, that might be a little sad. But I think the ones I eat are great because a) I make them myself b) they use up my fridge leftovers, and c) they allow me to eat things like cheese fry pizza for dinner without feeling guilty about it.
So yeah, I wanted to review this book solely to address the salad issue.
And here’s the part of the review where I compare this book to George W. Bush in the 2000 presidential debate. Ready?
I had low expectations for this book because it is Chick Lit, and, as a rule, I detest chick lit. So I was expecting this book to be dumber than a box of rocks and insult my intelligence, just as most Americans expected of George W. in that first debate. And imagine my surprise when it turned out to be not as moronic as I was expecting from chick lit. So it sort of won me over in that respect.
The book was well-written, and I think the author must be quite talented and intelligent. If she ever wrote something that wasn’t chick lit I would definitely give it a try, but Sad Desk Salad just didn’t do it for me.
I wouldn’t read it again, and I wouldn’t tell any of my friends to read it either. Unless maybe you are at the beach on vacation with nothing else to read and this book just happens to be there. In that case, go right ahead.
The other thing that turned me off about this book was the humor. I’m sure there are people out there who think this book is funny as hell but unfortunately I’m not one of them. And that’s not the book’s or the author’s fault, really, it’s just the fact that I think it’s really difficult to get humor right in fiction (case in point: David Sedaris’s fictional stories vs. his memoirs). I could go on and on about this, and why humor works in some fiction (Kurt Vonnegut, Douglas Adams) but I won’t. You’re welcome.
So, in conclusion: I would’ve rather had the porn.
[To read other reviews of this book, go here.]