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A black comedy about rehab. Rachel is living in New York with her best friend Brigit and dating a guy named Luke. She is also fond, too fond, of recreational drugs. Then before she knows that has happened she has been fired, been dumped by Luke, evicted by Brigit and her sister and brother-in-law are escorting her home to Ireland.
Her horrified parents ship her off to The Cloisters, a rehab centre that is supposed to be Ireland's answer to the Betty Ford Clinic. Rachel tries to smuggle in a huge tub of valium by hiding it in her underwear and frantically looks for the sauna and all the celebrities.
Soon she realises there are no celebrities and then she has to indulge in group therapy with the wife-beater, the latent farmer and her pretentious roommate Chaquie. Intermingled with Rachel's days in rehab are chapters telling of her pre-rehab adventures: her adventures in New York, her sisters, her horrible mother, despised brother-in-law and the day as a child she committed the great sin of eating her sister's Easter egg.
Soon it's Rachel's turn to be the focus of her group and she is faced with her parents, Luke and Brigit and her great wall of denial finally comes crashing down.
A really funny tale told in the first person. I don't see her attraction to Luke though at all, he is utterly smug and full of himself. I was glad to see Brigit was made to admit she was a raving hypocrite though, I really didn't like Brigit.
The epilogue in New York seems tacked on, as though the publishers demanded a romantic happy ever after but so what. The rest of the book is excellent. I never thought I'd find the description of a cookery class in a rehab clinic funny, but you do here.
A very funny, very enjoyable addition to your bookshelf.
P-Con VI March 27th/28th/29th 2009
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