This is not a bad book, but it is not the book I should be reading. The problems are big and real (and too close to home for me): the loneliness of life as an expat, marrying into another culture, the everyday struggle of speaking an unfamiliar language, the hollowness and lack of purpose from not having a career, the struggle to connect with and care for a family when you are depressed, the pursuit of endorphin release to make you feel a little better or at least pass the time, the very bad decisions and lies that can build up over time. Jeeeeeeeez. With all this realness, I found it shocking when things went all *whambamchicklit!* with the sweaty hand bits. All the dirty dialogue might have been real and what Anna was thinking/feeling/desiring, but the dramatic shift in language seemed so out of keeping with the rest of the story. I felt like parts had been cut and pasted from a book with a chesty dude on the cover. Other aspects of this book recalled The Awakening for me, if you know, Kate Chopin crafted scenes in a Swiss supermarket. Not bad, but heavens to housewives, I need to read something light and fluffy now. Instead, I finshed All the Bright Places just after. Sigh.