A young lawyer who wants to die enters group therapy to save her life. People who knew Tate probably didn't see her as the sort who hoped that "someone would shoot me in the head." Growing up in Texas, she excelled in school; at 26, she was first in her law school class. Yet she never fit in as an "oddball" who "voted Democratic, liked poetry, and settled north of the Mason-Dixon line" for a law career in Chicago. Her long struggle with bulimia--by fourth grade she had "been marinating in body hatred for a few years"--and the trauma from seeing a childhood friend's father drown during a holiday in Hawaii had sapped her confidence. At the suggestion of a friend, Tate signed up for group therapy with Dr. Rosen, a middle-aged man "slightly reminiscent of Einstein," who encouraged her to be open about every aspect of her life. This chatty memoir, punctuated with beautifully rendered sections, chronicles the years she spent in Chicago in Rosen's groups. Tate documents her alternately loving and confrontational encounters with fellow group members, but most of the book focuses on her many attempts to find the perfect man. Consequently, it often reads like a romance novel, with lines like, "When he pressed his perfect lips against mine, I swallowed starlight." Tate's sarcastic style can be entertaining--when Rosen told her not to use any three-syllable words to describe her feelings, she thought, "My top choice: adios"--but the narrative would have been stronger if the author more deeply explored the complexities of group therapy, body shame, loneliness, and more. Much of the writing is memorable, however, as when she describes one lover, a married man and recovering alcoholic, as "a category-six hurricane about to make landfall." Many readers will sympathize with Tate, especially in passages where she thinks she's finally found the right man only to have her heart broken yet again. A moving account of one woman's attempts to find love and stability. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Tate delivers a no-holds-barred account of her five-plus years in group therapy in this dazzling debut memoir. Growing up in Texas, Tate suffered from bulimia; she entered law school and moved to Chicago, where she continued to confront her eating disorder and attended 12-step programs. At a friend's suggestion, Tate agreed to see a therapist, and ended up in group therapy with Jonathan Rosen, a quirky but wise Harvard-educated therapist who insisted that his clients keep no secrets--neither from him nor the group ("keeping secrets from other people is more toxic than other people knowing your business," he reasoned). Tate then unveils the intimate details of her romantic life; after graduating first in her law school class, Tate landed a job at a prestigious firm, though she was still dealing with a series of flawed romances (one boyfriend with intimacy issues habitually flipped her on her stomach for sex). Through therapy, Tate found a sense of self-worth, and eventually a lawyer named John at work ("I felt something I'd never felt with a man before: calm, quiet, happy, and excited"). Readers will be irresistibly drawn into Tate's earnest and witty search for authentic and lasting love. (Oct.)

Tate's debut memoir invites readers to sit alongside the author in one of the chairs circled for group therapy, and watch her struggle, fail, and very slowly learn. At 26, this law-school valedictorian and recovering bulimic fantasizes about her own death. Why? She eats apples. Obsessively--as many as eight per night--and painfully: "the sharp edges of the apple bits I'd failed to chew properly poked the edges of my stomach. Acid burned my throat." A source of deep shame, Tate's apples keep her roommate-less and alone. Desperate, she takes a friend's recommendation to see a therapist, Dr. Rosen, who recommends group therapy. Rosen's tactics surprise and bedevil Tate. The expected goal--stop eating apples--is bypassed for a harder one: speak openly and honestly about eating apples. In therapy, Tate learns that secrets are toxic, and applies that lesson to her writing. Essential to Tate's project is authorial ethos, and she maintains credibility by writing the bad, the ugly, and the badly ugly through years of painful relationships and despair. Her writing displays a wonderful combination of clear and simple with sparkle and intelligence. This memoir's accomplishment is impressively dualistic: it's a compelling narrative that empowers readers to better understand their own lives.