The tense, fractured, unorthodox, brilliant prose takes us into a mind that is slowly cracking apart, despite the narrator's heroic, nail-shredding efforts to maintain a grip on reality. Throughout the book, she teeters on the edge of madness, fit neither for life, nor for the strait-jacket, going in and out of an asylum, in a troubling, disorienting, see-saw journey. I found myself feeling for with the tortured soul, and I often rooted desperately for her recovery. The taut, frenetic, often foreshortened, sentences (which sometimes abruptly cut into white space) make for a challenging, unorthodox, sometimes telegraphic, read. We get the sense of the narrator's life cracking, melting, and breaking apart, in a series of crafty, disturbing, surreal images. Appropriately, there is no sense of a 'whole' life, only of its fragments and remnants - often strewn across a whole swathe of days, like the maimed pieces of a jig-saw puzzle. The book is disturbing, sometimes funny and Galloway has created a language of her own. It is the book that the author of 'Prozac Nation' might wish that she had written.