After Marley dies, John Grogen (a newspaper columnist) states "I wanted to write a farewell column to Marley, but I was afraid that all of my emotion would pour out in a gushy, maudlin piece of self-indulgence that would only humiliate me". So instead he decides to dedicate a whole book to it? This is not a book about Marley or the trials, tribulations and benefits of dog ownership, it is Grogen's autobiography for the 13 years he happened to own a dog.
It is not insightful, it is painful. I know far more than I care to about the Grogan family. I really don't care that you waited in the car while Jenny bought the home pregnancy kit because "there are some things guys just aren't meant to shop for". Grow up!
I have never been so let down by a book. I expected a story that made me consider how pet ownership might give me a new outlook on everyday problems. I got a story about about a very average man's life.
The only thing worse than reading this, is listening to Grogen's whiney, pitchy voice.
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