This novel was a mess from start to finish. It's very clearly geared toward a very specific shallow feminism espoused by middle-class white blonde women who drink from cups that say "Male Tears."

There was no coherent point to the book, no thread to hold it all together; just hot-button issues with buzzwords hanging off them. It was not well-written either, the language used was inelegant and the characters one-dimensional husks. It read like a bad YA self-published on Amazon Kindle.

Dalcher has certainly tapped into the flimsy and superficial form of neoliberal faux-feminism that sells tote-bags and is cheered on by multi-national conglomerates like Nike and Coca Cola, because it makes more money while maintaining the status quo.