The library at my sixth form college was having a massive clear-out for whatever reason, with entire shelves of books being left out, ripe for the second-hand picking. Naturally, I went in for as much as I could get, and grabbed books at complete random, because who could possibly resist free books, even if it did mean an oversized satchel on the journey home? This book was one of those which I grabbed. I'm down to read almost anything, really, and although it's not really to my tastes, fluffy, vapid chick lit is no exception. So, what did I think of this book? 
 Good question. I don't actually know. 
 I liked it, but only sometimes. It's gratingly materialistic and devoid of morals, and Becky is the most insufferably unthinking protagonist, to the point some of the humour just comes across as entirely uncomfortable. She's childish, and creates more problems just by not using her goddamn words. The entire wedding fiasco got to the point where it was painful in how stalling it was, and the solution was so ridiculously idealised it hurt. Congratulations! You're a millionaire, and so all of your problems can be whisked away by throwing hard cash at them! It's not engaging for me when I can't hold any sympathy for the main character. The ending was dissatisfying purely because Becky suffered no negative consequence from it, other than she felt a bit bad about the issues that she created. 
 Might I add I gave no shits about any of the characters? Luke seems like a weird predecessor to Christian Grey (part of the whole attractive rich businessman sweeping the plain young damsel off of her feet trope), but believe me, he is in no way a disgusting, consent-flouting, rapey creep. He's just boring, and also has mummy issues, and is also very rich and is eager to throw money at his problems, and has the luxury of skipping work for weeks at a time to mope about. How relatable! How down-to-earth! How fucking privileged! 
 The writing made me twitch from grammatical discomfort at times. Never before have I seen the 
 word "crocodile" used as a descriptor of a group (though apparently this is a legitimate informal term, so I suppose I've learnt something from this experience). Also, I don't hold enough of an interest in clothing for all the constant brand name spewing to mean anything at all to me (and I still associate excessive description of outfits with My Immortal). For a book which is 60% description, the description is very... nondescript. It's hard to picture a lot of what's going on purely because it's so insipidly bland. Moreover, considering the protagonist is self-confessedly obsessed with clothes, the descriptions of clothes weren't very good: 
 "The neckline flatters my face, and the colour is just right against my skin." 
 That tells me exactly nothing about the dress! How am I meant to picture that?! Anyway, this book lost me the second it spelt Obi-Wan Kenobi wrong within the first few chapters. That's no way to win over a nerd's heart, now, is it? Besides that, I checked the 2012 reprint edition of this book, and it was still spelt wrong! Come on, guys! Get your shit together! 
 I suppose I at least owe it to the book to take into consideration the cultural context. This book came out in 2002, a time when you couldn't just watch trash TV whenever the hell you wanted unless you'd recorded on your old reliable VHS tapes and typed in all those weird number codes so it kicked in at the right time. Most people in the UK had a total of five channels, one of which had notoriously bad reception (at least where I grew up - screw you, Channel 5), and so where did you turn when you wanted your fluffy, trashy fix? To this, most likely. It's easy to read, I'll give it that, and I can't say I didn't chuckle at least twice despite everything I didn't like about it. I'll give it a good-natured two stars. Do with that what you will.