Reader, I Did Not Get Attached

I finished Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas recently and, lucky for me, there was a little free library where I was staying. So I exchanged it for Nine Perfect Strangers.

What better place to read about strangers than in a hostel surrounded by strangers?

Let's dive in.

The book has a solid start. It piques your interest with a near-death experience, then dives into one of the protagonists, if not the protagonist.

She's a writer herself and makes little references to other works throughout the book. For me, that added some immediate intrigue.

I actually messaged a friend after I started reading to tell her I thought she might like it.

Then we meet the nine strangers.

They've all arrived at a health retreat for different reasons, and the author starts digging into their backstories to give them some depth and, presumably, get us attached.

Reader, I did not get attached.

The retreat isn't quite what it seems. It's experimental, new-agey, and this is where the book quickly started losing me.

It began to feel like gossip hour.

Not because the characters were gossiping, but because of the way their lives were being described. It reminded me of a gaggle of women sitting around a table telling each other the latest thing going on with their neighbors or that one woman from yoga class.

Typically, this is where I would DNF a book.

I actually explored my options on the free library shelf, but finishing this seemed better than switching to one of the political books or attempting to read a novel in a language I don't speak.

So I continued.

Eventually, the retreat starts secretly "treating" the strangers by microdosing them and then giving them full doses of LSD, psilocybin mushrooms and MDMA (ecstasy).

This would normally sound like a great setup for me. (I did just read Fear & Loathing)

Maybe I shouldn't admit this, but I've experimented with all of the above plenty of times in my younger days. I've also microdosed on and off for nearly a decade while experimenting with and working on my own mental health.

So there were moments in the author's descriptions that felt familiar.

There were also plenty of moments when I couldn't get past one thought:

"This wouldn't actually happen."

To her credit, the author does acknowledge and reference her source material at the end of the book, which I appreciated.

In the end, all I can really say is that Nine Perfect Strangers wasn't it.

If you're looking for some decent character development and enjoy a bit of chisme, this book could totally be for you.

As a curious experimenter who tries to avoid superficial gossip?

Not for me.