I'm F*cking Amazing
A Novel
-
- CHF 10.00
Beschreibung des Verlags
What becomes of happily-ever-after for a woman who can’t stand sex with the best guy ever?
Her body used to work perfectly. For years, she tallied her orgasms, maintained a Top Humps list, and rated men on whether they excited her more mentally or physically—all with the purpose of finding the ideal love match.
Now, as she moves into her thirties and is settled down with Serious Boyfriend Number Three, she’s run into a problem.
Sex hurts.
She can’t get wet.
Her vagina, which has never led her astray before, suddenly seems like it might be broken.
Surely there must be some way to make sex work for her again?
From doctors to drugs to completely unorthodox remedies, she embarks on a journey of desperation and self-discovery. She’ll try anything to fix it, but maybe desire and long-term love just don’t go together.
Sexually frank, wildly funny, psychologically raw, I’m F*cking Amazing marks the fiction debut of a red-hot talent, perfect for fans of Fleabag, Caitlin Moran, and Miranda July.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Playwright Warden debuts with a brutally honest if overlong account of a 30-something woman's sex life in London. After the unnamed narrator's parents separated and her mother moved to San Francisco, she came up with an equation to have a successful relationship and believes that marriage with children has a zero percent success rate. Her third "proper" relationship—with Three, a man she met while bartending at 24—follows all of the expected patterns until sex with him becomes physically painful. No matter what they try, the narrator has trouble getting aroused, and she begins to dread sex. After multiple doctor appointments and physiotherapy, the problem is still not resolved and she begins to look for alternative aphrodisiacs, such as flirting with strangers and snorting cocaine. As the years pass with Three she worries about the consequences of breaking her own rules. Though there are flashes of stylistic flair, such as recurring pages of scorecard-like "Top Humps," in which the narrator rates her former lovers on "general vibe" and other factors, too often Warden's prose reads like run-on journal entries ("Three was the best male person I had ever come across. EVER. And all my bits worked with his bits very well in a very exciting manner"), and the frankness rarely leads to deep insights. Fleabag this is not.
