I entered a contest for a free copy of this book because I read a blurb about it and saw the cover and I knew I had to read it! Why? Well, my Mom is in the process of becoming a reformed hoarder... and she considers squirrels her mortal enemies. So, this is one of those books I wanted to read and then share with her. I was thrilled when it arrived in the mail, as I assumed I'd enjoy it immensely and be excited to see her reaction. I mean, the cover is just hilarious even by itself, right? I love the way the squirrel could both symbolize a hoarder (hoarding nuts), but the squirrel figurine could also be clutter in and of itself, and it is fun and quirky. Genius! ...if only the book followed suit. In all fairness to this book, maybe Gwendolyn Knapp's sense of humor just doesn't match up with my own, because I've seen a couple of different reviews compare it to David Sedaris or Jenny Lawson, both authors of books I thought I'd like, books I wanted to like, but books I actually loathed. So, if you enjoy those other authors and their particular off-beat brand of humor, maybe this book is the nut you should be storing for winter. Otherwise, not so much.The main problem I had with this book is that it lacked balance; I was hoping that, in addition to narrating hilarious scenes of the clutter acting as a hostile environment or even personified as an antagonist in and of itself, Knapp would also analyze the clutter. Did her family's collection of useless junk signify mental confusion? ...a worthless (and somewhat rusty) security blanket? ...the desire for material wealth? A book like this would have to walk the fine line between theatre of the absurd-style humor and poignant, evocative emotion. On those counts, it completely failed. Instead, Knapp seemed to be under the mistaken impression that barely connected reminiscences whose only shared commonality was clutter as their backdrop somehow gelled into a larger plot or character arc. They did not.Also, because Knapp didn't portray herself as an empathetic protagonist with a clearly defined mission on the brain, I couldn't root for her. Readers will likely be left with no sense of who she is, or ability to tell what it is she wants. How can I be on her side if I don't even know where it is when buried under all of the superfluous stuff? As a reader, I feel as though Knapp invited me over to her family's overstuffed home, beckoned me to follow her thorough the labyrinth of a living room, maze of a master bedroom and dump of a den only to present me with the back door, fling it open, shrug, and say, "Bye! Thanks for coming over!" waving as the dented screen door slams behind me, the utterly bewildered reader.
What is the point of this book? I couldn't tell. I wish I hadn't wasted my time reading it, and I'm surely not going to waste my Mom's by giving it to her. Well, that, and I wouldn't want her to add it to the top of yet another growing mountain of pointless possessions because, contrary to what Knapp's title may assert, I haven't yet gotten used to it, and her assertion that such a thing is possible leads me to believe that her family's "hoarding" isn't the real deal, after all.
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