The second chapter of this book is written from the perspective of a divorced middle aged British man in the 80s. And he’s less a character than a collection of disdainful cliches of what you expect divorced middle aged British man in the 80s to be like. Red flag.
The third chapter is written from the perspective of a college girl struggling with her weight. And as someone who has had his own weight-related struggles, it was actually kind of distressing to read David Mitchell’s terrible writing with this character. Again, she’s just a litany of disdainful fat-person cliches. I realise not all weight issues are the same and that I don’t expect that my experience is universal but this was very plainly written by someone with an inability to properly empathise with a character beyond a bunch of superficial tropes.
Disappointing.