In the thank-yous that open Mimi Pond's The Customer is Always Wrong, she credits her children as the very center of her life, giving her "joy, delight, strength and unconditional love." I think the shout out to domesticity threw me off.
As did the title. I thought it would be a memoir about ungrateful or rude customers at a diner.
I wasn't prepared for tales of cocaine and heroin addiction, breaking and entering and violent mistaken identity, of cancer.
However, once I came to accept the wild, unexpected ride that it was, I have to admit being entertained. There's some sadness, I suppose, but I can't say that I really connected to that part. Maybe the slight dark humour cancelled it out, maybe had I been familiar with the characters in the first book I'd have felt a stronger connection. I hadn't realized when I began that this was actually a sequel, but nonetheless I'd still suggest that the book can stand alone.
The art is fine; sort of a loose, sketchy vibe with grayish blue watercoloured highlights that elevated it all.
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