This book is really little more than a collection of personal ads, from The London Review of Books, a few of which are quite witty indeed; And many of which, it must be admitted, fall short of greatness. Nonetheless, it certainly does what it says on the tin. However, as suggested, because not every contributor is even remotely close to an undercover 'Oscar Wilde', I can't give this book full marks.
Now, I'm not a 'London Review of Books' reader, nor have I had to write many 'personals' in my life to date; yet this remains a reasonably entertaining collection, to be dipped into, and enjoyed, from time to time. Of those I found particularly funny, there is: "Man 46, An Animal in Bed. Probably a Gnu" or how about this one?
"Found love yet? Console yourself with our range of fabulous fitted wardrobes... Write for free catalogue to desperate salesman, 44, divorced, no access to the kids, sleeping in his mother's Astra. Box no.xx"
Of the patently sad ones, there are these: "I went to university to learn how to write ads like this. Woman, 32. Box no. xx" Or:
"I've memorised every step to Waitrose, Caversham. Woman, 43, just about ready to take a step up the social ladder with any reasonably-minded moneyed male up to 90..."
And there are plenty which don't pass the Oscar Wilde test, such as "World's worst univocalic personal ad writer. Male 43. Box no. xx" Or, there are those which are simply succinct to the point of meaninglessness, "I beg to differ. Box no. xx"
In conclusion, it's worth buying, particularly if it can be found in the 'bargain bin'... and the above quotations whet your appetite, but certainly not indispensable.