He complained about his job and his house when he moved to America. I may admire his honesty however, he did sound whiny throughout the book. Not everyone would admit to getting women to fall in love with them, and quickly discarding them just to enjoy the pain they have put them through. Although, he sounds like a jerk, I admire his honesty. The dark themes do hit close to home if you have ever experienced someone hurting you the way that this anonymous author explains he did. This book is a Dutch memoir that was published in 2006. He explains on the first page of the book that he got off on emotionally hurting them, and he compares himself to a serial killer who feels no remorse. It’s written anonymously about an Irish man who bluntly writes about how he used to like hurting women. It was far from what I thought it would be about. I was surprised when I read the first page and found out that it wasn’t. Either way, it’s safe to say that if I were to base the rest of 2022 on my literary luck, I must’ve been Henry Clay Frick in my past life.When I first picked up “Diary of an Oxygen Thief”, I thought it would be a book of poetry. Two (the version that I prefer because I really cannot take the book seriously otherwise): the whole thing was a satire. One: the author wanted to be all deep and write an indie book that was “cool” and philosophical in all the wrong ways possible– campy literature is what I like to call it– and completely screwed up, but still wanted the world to get a taste. But I’ve had some time to sit down and really think about the book and its contents, and it could really go two different ways. It’s easy, however, to simply hate the book because your inner third-wave feminist is waving the red flag and simply hates even reading about a raging misogynist. There were some gems here and there, but there could’ve been so much more. Overall, I really thought there was a lot of potential in the book. If I wasn’t left brimming with second-hand embarrassment and perturbation, I would’ve respected him. Nothing like a good taste of his own medicine to atrociously humble a man. Shared similar pastimes with people of the opposite gender. Essentially, the man likes to toy with the feelings of the women he courts and prides himself on being so knowledgeable about the female mind that when he gets bored of them, he’s able to find the most emotionally painful way to break things off.īut, he’s an individual of fleeting taste, so eventually, through a series of “twists and turns” (honestly it wasn’t that deep– he wasn’t that deep), he calms down, and falls in love with someone who– The story follows a middle-aged Irish man– works in advertisement by day, a sadistic heart-breaker with a copious amount of suppressed trauma, and drunkard by night. It’s exactly as the title described a diary. And then it just went downhill from there. It pulled you in just enough to leave enough mystery and intrigue that made you want to continue reading. A read most definitely fueled by a romanticization of the trouble-minded. I would give you a spoiler alert warning about the contents from this point forward, but you’re better off just hearing it from me, lest you waste your time. Like I mentioned before, I haven’t read a book in quite a while, and the book was quite short– giving me every excuse to splurge some time and read. Honestly, I wonder what the gender of the author is the book was designed to target women, but everything in the book screams otherwise. The title read “Diary of An Oxygen Thief”, followed by “Anonymous”. Like, I know I took a picture of a specific pair of silver metallic oxfords, so where is said picture now?Īnyway, during one of my Pinterest runs, I came across a book with a rather aesthetic cover (catching on now?). As someone who is constantly screenshotting or taking pictures of inspiration and things to do at a later date, I’ve always found it difficult to refer to old pictures I took, because of my lack of organization. I’ve found that, if you utilize the app properly, there’s a lot of potential. I’m currently going through my Pinterest phase, but not the “middle-aged housewife obsessing over interior design or cute little diy crafts to do with her kids” kind. It’s been a while since I’ve written a book review. Literally– for the sake of your literary palette.
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