Many readers feel wary of yet another Hollywood author publishing a memoir on inane diets or touch-of-fame anecdotes, and rightly so. Sascha Rothchild, author of “How to Get Divorced by 30,” does live in L.A., has dieted incessantly and had brushes with fame. Though throughout her accounts, Rothchild holds no pretension; she pokes fun at herself and mockingly exposes her embarrassing love stories and eventual divorce. She respectfully accomplishes a nearly-objective recap of her past lovers, and she takes responsibility for her role in romantic mishaps. This honesty makes the book less of a bemoaning diatribe against men and, instead, more of a mature, retrospective piece on the faults of relying on a partner to fill an internal void. 
Rothchild was raised in Miami with an eccentric mother who, faint of emotions, never said “I love you” to her family and still insists she is called Susan and not mom. Her childhood in Miami exposed her to realities that most parents shelter their children from. Contrastingly, Rothchild’s mother made light of obscenities, such as the game ‘Count the Hookers’, usually played on the way home from school.  The author’s childhood was also daunted with the nickname “sausage,” because she was slightly chubby and the word loosely rhymed with Sascha. This childhood epithet was eventually adopted by her mother and created an insecure, compulsive need to be skeletally thin. Her insecurities were magnified in time, and she eventually began to cling to men’s attention.
After a handful of neglecting relationships, she fell into yet another relationship with a man she admits to have been semi-pressured into marrying her.  Rothchild tells of how they both fought off romanticism to remain ‘practical,’ and how she feebly attempted to convince herself of her security, but in the end, craved his attention. Her husband had begun to resent her for forcing their marriage and their movement away from his favorite part of LA: Venice Beach. After only a year of marriage, Rothchild got a divorce from her despondent husband.
Rothchild maintains that her troubling experiences have imparted wisdom and with her “starter marriage” out of the way, she can begin to find sustainable relief to her insecurity and not let it become a parasite to a future relationship.
Aside from her novel, Rothchild has experience in making fun of herself. She has participated in Mortified, a live comedy show where people read their adolescent diaries that contain anything from awkward first kisses to dramatic love poems to home movies.
Many students can relate to Rothchild’s novel because they have either partaken in similar unstable relationships or been a disapproving onlooker. These relationships, ranging from the theatrical romances to the listless hook-ups, are displayed nakedly in the novel. This book would be mostly beneficial to those who can relate to these chaotic relationships, especially to those who have been dependent upon others.
Although the novel can offer circumstantial assistance or be a harbinger to the perils of dependency, it is relatively apparent that this is Rothchild’s first novel. If you are not in a parallel situation with the author, then it may not be the book to spend time searching out and reading. Rothchild’s novel does have truths and she humorously conveys them, but it is neither extremely profound nor side-splittingly hilarious. It’s lukewarm and walks the median between worth it and not.
 Students who already have miscellaneous reading assignments and are still trying to cram in as much recreational reading as their eyes and brains can manage should reserve this book for a time when there is just really nothing else to do, and it happens to be the only book on the shelf. Yet, for those students who relate to Rothchild’s experiences, dig in to a novel that may tell you a little bit about yourself or your lover that you were not quite ready to admit.