Adelle Waldman is so spot-on, it's painful. I've heard this story many, many times (from the ladies' pov, occasionally from the men's) from my friends over innumerable cups of coffee. What sticks in my craw (just a little) is how sympathetic she is to her caddish anti-hero. Waldman seems to genuinely feel that it's not entirely Nathaniel's fault that he cannot seem to treat a lady right. We're just all adrift in today's sexual mores. So even while exposing his casual sexism, his deluded sense of his own needs, his immaturity, Waldman has a seemingly never-ending fund of sympathy for Nate. Personally, I got a little sick of it. Waldman is a careful and clear chronicler of the head and heart, taking note of many stray thoughts and each emotional tremor. I admire that attention to detail, but I found it a bit claustrophobic. Still, it's a rare writer who can skewer someone — really the entire Brooklyn scene — so thoroughly without stacking the deck; Waldman is a straight shooter.