I just finished reading Cancer Vixen.
Paul got it for me from the library, and I didn't think I'd like it. The cover art doesn't appeal to me at all, nor does the title, nor did the premise: shoe-brand-discussing, name-dropping, "oh no I gained an entire pound" fashionista-who-uses-the-word-fashionista gets cancer, but pulls through it with style and expensive lip gloss.
As you have no doubt cleverly surmised, instead I loved it. LOVED it. It was not only highly entertaining (romance! family! humor!), but also highly informative: here's what happens when you get cancer; here's what the various treatments are like; here are some things I hadn't expected. If I get cancer myself, I will buy a copy of the book and work my way through it the way I used to work my way through week-by-week pregnancy books.
Boy, I haven't made that sound real appealing, have I? And I understand if it doesn't sound like something you'd like: I LOVE graphic autobiographies by female author-artists, and yet this sat on my book pile for two weeks because I didn't want to read about cancer treatments (or shoe brands). I thought it would be boring, depressing, scary, and annoying. Instead I finished it, walked directly to my computer, ordered a copy to be sent to our local library (Paul had had to request it from another branch), ordered a copy of the author's other book (Just Who the Hell is SHE, Anyway?) to be sent to me, and then wrote this post.
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