I have been dreading reading Umbrella. I think Will Self is pretentious, arrogant and confusing and I expected his book to be more of the same. But I also really hoped I was proven wrong. Like every girl ever, I had hoped the man would change.
I managed 10 per cent of Umbrella before calling it quits. As I explained to friends and family alike, “I had to, it is ruining my life!” I ended up in this circular situation where I was bored and confused and frustrated, so my mind wandered and then I really didn’t know what was going on, so was more bored and confused and frustrated. For the first time in my adult life I just didn’t read for 48 hours, because I couldn’t bare the idea of reading this. This had to end.
So I decided, self-justifyingly, that being an adult (and indeed a reviewer) is about knowing your limits. And this is mine. As part of ths project, I have struggled through books which I never would have chosen, which I didn’t find funny or which I didn’t see the point of. This has been good for me. But this one pushed me too far. This one stopped the project being fun. Enough is enough. Time to move on.