The major problem with this book is that it does not know what it wants to be. The cover screams fluffy, fun chick lit whereas the core of the novel centres on the painful collapse of a family unit and its consequences against the backdrop of the author's `career' as a blogger. Unfortunately this sum of parts does not gel very convincingly.
For a start, the author does not have the ability to fully express the depth of the conflicting emotions inside her as she makes a very difficult and painful (but not necessarily incorrect) decision, and this results in her coming across as rather self-absorbed. On top of this, she often feels the need to justify herself, especially with regard to her blog, how she uses it and her relationship with her readers. This leads to rather stilted `conversations' which smack more of set pieces designed for her to defend herself against any allegations or criticism concerning her blogging, her behaviour or both. Finally, it is difficult to create any bond with someone who, in a work of non fiction, constantly reminds the reader that their blog, which is also non fiction (supposedly), is not an accurate reflection of their life, and nor would they want it to be one. Given the obvious pride the author takes in toying with and manipulating her online readership, why should things be so different for the reader of the novel, as after all, this is basic blog-to-book fare.
The very light and throwaway subtitle `In Paris, in Love, in Trouble' sits so awkwardly with the content of the novel that it further alienates the reader, as it is difficult to believe that anyone with a modicum of sensitivity would allow this subheading to become the public and published epitaph to their relationship.