I am from BC and I moved to the east coast of the US. Reading this book not only made me feel right at home, but I laughed myself silly several times. The author has an incredible wit as she tells some anecdotes that really seem hard to believe unless you are from Vancouver Island. People from all over will appreciate this book, but people from quirky small towns in British Columbia will add this book to their list of favortite reads. Not since the Bachelor Brother's bed and Breakfast, have I ever laughed so hard. Thanks to the author and all the folks from Skidney BC.

I wasn't going to write a review until I read the "Independant Publisher's" critique. This must have been the same publisher that continues to crank out copies of books such as Nino Ricci's flowery trilogy, and other such safe and reliable best selling poetic and touching masterpieces. Nothing against Nino - he's written three good books. My comments center around Farrant and her ability to loosen structure and present material that is orignially written, not an easy task when faced with the profit conscious, and therefore faint hearted, publishers of today. What does Farrant write, or how does she write, differently from others? Hard to describe unless you read her, unfortunately. Satire usually strikes targets that can be stripped down, exposed in some way. Jay Leno and his relentless Clinton jokes are an example of satire, and a poor example at that. Simplistic satire can also be found populating television, which is why millions of people are abandoning such programs as insults to their intelligence, or as bland and totally dried up. M.A.C. Farrant writes about easily recognizable persons - true enough, but with more than enough style and quirkiness to make up for mining old frameworks. The typical satire, as exemplified by Mordicai Richler, Russel Smith, and Tom Wolfe, is still alive and worthwhile for writers and readers. But newer, more progressive satire that uses looser form and persuades instead of commenting, makes the reader part of the process instead of mere head nodders. The search for original fiction is difficult for readers, and writers, and if Farrant fails to live up to back cover blurbs, then she is not alone. Imagine, another brilliant novel about lawyers from Grisham, or a shocking tale of conspiracy from Pynchon. Never before done or imagined. Instead of consuming and forgetting about another third person, past tense novel that creates an eye-watering state almost every page, why not be just as patient, and discover the worth in the progressive humour of M.A.C. Farrant?