I was bored and in a hurry. Having never heard of Sylvia Browne before, I didn't know what I was in for. I wish I would have taken the time to read a few pages of this book before buying it, but I didn't. In a way, I deserved what I got.
This book is essentially a ludicrous, thoroughly unsatisfying, narcissistic romp on the part of the writer. It oozes giggly self-importance to the point of being comical, and probably deserves a spot on the shelf next to coloring books and the collected works of Garfield. (Though Garfield might be thought scholarly work in comparison, and coloring books have more depth.)
Instead of buying this (or swapping for it), go talk with the crazy neighborhood cat lady. She's lonely, has just as many important bits of wisdom to impart as Sylvia, and when you're done, you might feel good about yourself.
This book is essentially a ludicrous, thoroughly unsatisfying, narcissistic romp on the part of the writer. It oozes giggly self-importance to the point of being comical, and probably deserves a spot on the shelf next to coloring books and the collected works of Garfield. (Though Garfield might be thought scholarly work in comparison, and coloring books have more depth.)
Instead of buying this (or swapping for it), go talk with the crazy neighborhood cat lady. She's lonely, has just as many important bits of wisdom to impart as Sylvia, and when you're done, you might feel good about yourself.
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