So I was a little hesitant to start this book when I looked at the author bio and discovered that she is from the Main Line Philadelphia suburb that I haaaaated living in when I first moved to Southeastern Pennsylvania. The book is also set in that area and is about a family who is upper crust enough to have a tennis obsession and a carriage house on their property, but I heard good things and was willing to give it a shot.
Then I got to page eleven and I read this lovely little bit, of a Main Line father reflecting on his disappointment of a daughter:
She had challenged herself only enough to get in to Ohio University, of all incomprehensible places, and they had considered themselves lucky of that.
I threw the book. Literally threw it at the dashboard of my boyfriend's car.
Don't hate, Louisa Hall. You may have gone to Harvard, but there's nothing wrong with old "Harvard on the Hocking." After all, Macguyver's an alum. And Ed O'Neill. And Matt Lauer. And mother fucking Bart Simpson. Et cetera, et cetera.
(I might go back to this one, but I am in no mood to be reading about snotty Main Line folks right now, especially one who is going to insult my Bobcats.)