Some years ago I left the yacht I was sailing on to go up the Amazon. I took very little with me, only what I could put into my backpack, and that included the entire Forsyte Saga published as one paperback volume. I'd read a few pages, and lacking toilet paper, rip them out and use them. It was a satisfactory arrangement as it lightened the backpack and gave me ease from the angst of being very far from civilization-as-we-know-it. I wish I'd had this book instead, wiping shite is all its good for, the paper's quite soft too.

(After about a week I paid attention to what the Indians used - a certain large and wooly leaf that was very soft and when crushed released a sort of soothing, scented sap. It was a lot better than processed wood pulp. I asked what this plant was called, expecting some exotic herbal sort of name, but no, they called it in their language, the bum-wiping leaf.)

I recommend this book to a number of cliquey and highly pretentious individuals on a certain group here who take great pleasure in intimidating people. They would so identify with the 'LA Syndrome' and the need to feel special by continually putting others down, which is all I could get from this dreadful book. ( )