The Hating GameThe Hating Game by Sally Thorne

The problem I have in reviewing books of this genre is that the characters’ introspective inspection is nonexistent by default and so is my patience with them. Why are they the last to know about their first and single occupation, which is of course love? Maybe I don’t get the foreplay – the endless struggles, tons of misinterpretations of one’s eyebrow movement, all kinds of games (where the only unexecuted one is “Just kill each other already”)…

Other then that, the book was witty and enjoyable, discounting the end where I witnessed some melodramatic healing of childhood wounds in the midst of admissions about painting His bedroom walls in the colour of Her eyes.