At its worst, the narrative is the lovechild of your aunt's motivational Facebook posts - comic sans text over a photograph of a sunset - and the 'lessons' that Stan dictates at the end of an episode of South Park. The vast majority of this book was a conclusion statement, a cliche wrap-up to something never truly started. I felt quite frustrated with this read because I didn't really learn anything about Lily. For a memoir, this book was at its best only mildly inviting.
The best bits of this book were the parts where Collins was specific about her struggles with her eating disorders and her relationship with food. Here, she had a true story to tell. She speaks briefly on her career as a teen journalist, which was not mind-blowing or raw but was at the very least interesting because she provided actual chronology and detail, something otherwise severely lacking. Collins vaguely describes pretty much every other anecdote, swapping actual gritty detail for tired phrasing and life lesson tips and overall unfulfilling chapters. She mentions dating addicts, but uses nothing specific in her recollection. She throws in school and friends and parents without managing to actually tell readers anything about them.
I wish that this book had MORE. More description, more specificity, more UNFILTERED rhetoric. It was 200 pages of stock photo imagery. I rarely leave reviews for books, but all of the other reviews for this rave dishonesty. You can learn more about Collins through interviews and articles she's written for teen magazines.
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