Traig’s memoir of growing up beset by scrupulosity, a form of OCD manifesting as extremes of religious observance, was often very funny. This was a multiple-guffaw read for me. And beyond its entertainment value, it’s informative and sometimes insightful.
I found its structure a little perplexing; it’s somewhere between a linear coming-of-age memoir and a set of themed essays; as a result it jumps forward and back in time in ways that I found a little confusing. I suspected throughout that Traig might prioritize humorous exaggeration and the presumed resultant readers’ laughs over strict factual adherence; in the afterward she nearly says as much, acknowledging that her portrayal of her family is not entirely accurate.
But overall, a fast, fun read, with some painless educational value for anyone who knows as little as I do about the modern medical understanding of OCD.
needs more demons? no.