This book is a silly waste of time for the reader. But I owe it a debt of gratitude because the audio version kept be awake for a seven hour round trip by car that I made alone recently to attend my 50-year high school class reunion. So apparently the book isn't boring. Otherwise I wouldn't have survived to write this review.
The audio edition is narrated by the author herself, and I have to admit that she has the voice to go with her writing. She comes across as a person suffering from general anxiety disorder (she confirms that this is indeed the case) who can't tolerate any silence and thus must fill every moment with compulsive talking. Therefore the writing is sort of chatter-box-chain-of-consciousness style with numerous side tangents that don't necessarily follow in logical order. Also, many of the words used by the author are not those acceptable in the midst of polite company. The writing of the author comes across much like that of a young writer with more creativity than knowledge or a memoir writer with a shortage of memories that is compensated for by elaborating to the extreme.
The book is a memoir about the author's life. Her childhood home was a small rural town in central Texas in a family of modest means with a taxidermist father who had a strange sense of humor. So the author's life has sufficient fodder with which to work. The telling of the stories is what makes to book, not the stories themselves. So I'll grant that the author has a way with story telling. But if you decide to read or listen to the book, I'd prefer not having credit for your decision. Why? Well, the author goes out of her way to refer to sexual body parts as often as possible, and then some. Maybe I'm a prude, but this book was over the top in its choice of words.