Some books are meant to be hogged all in one sitting, while others must be savored, doled out a few pages at a time. Linda Robertson's "What Rhymes with Bastard?" might fit in both categories. My wife picked it up to take a look when it arrived and did not move, speak, or respond to external stimuli until she finished the book later in the day. I've taken the opposite approach: parsimoniously granting myself a chapter at a time, and often flipping back to re-read. It isn't always easy to re-read, though: at times, the book tells some uncomfortable and even painful stories -- even terribly painful -- but thanks to the author's powerful voice, the book is extremely funny throughout in a way, perhaps, that only painful things can be. [caution: pedantic remark ahead] I think it's a great addition to the contemporary genre of feminine/ist/ish memoir and an inheritor of the long tradition of Anglo-American travel narratives (her adventures among the dot-com bubbleheads of California reminded me of the funniest parts of Fanny Trollope's The Domestic Manners of the Americans).