The New Me
by Halle Butler
In a curious reversal to a lot of books of the same ilk I’ve read recently, I expected to hate this and I actually kind of loved it.
Millie is a 30-year-old woman who can’t get her shit together in spite of her mountains of privilege. The book ricochets between her despair and manic optimism around her future prospects.
At surface-level it’s your average millennial storyline about a dissatisfied girl with her trivial millennial problems (judging her co-workers, getting over a boy, paying for her yoga membership), but if you dig a little deeper it reveals itself as the tragic story of a young woman with a dangerous lack of self-awareness, paralysed by the societal expectations of the life she’s supposed to be living, who can’t escape a toxic friendship and is painfully wrestling with (unnamed, undiagnosed) Bipolar disorder.