Miranda July first came to my attention via her film Me and You and Everyone We Know. I had a strong visceral dislike for the film which caused me to steer clear of her work. 
 When I heard that she'd written a novel, I decided I'd give it a try, as it is entirely possible to dislike one of an artist's works but to like another. I had hoped I would enjoy The First Bad Man. 
 I didn't. 
 I get a sense of July's work being quirky and strange just to be quirky and strange. This may not be the case, but that's how her work reads to me. Her prose is clear and strong, but the ideas behind it simply didn't interest me. The First Bad Man left her empty. I didn't find anything there of value to think about. I didn't laugh, I didn't care about any of the characters or situations, it didn't make me feel thoughtful. It left me blank. I found the pacing strange: the first half of the book meanders along and the second half races towards its ending. I also found the situations ridiculous and I was unable to believe.