Lest the title fool you into hoping that Elasticity contains snap or zing, be warned: this sparkly-orchid-drenched book is poised to disappoint. From its slipshod margins to its ill-advised font, from the html-inspired formatting to the bewildering lack of page numbers, this book isn’t just unsightly—it’s genuinely hard to read.

Oh yes, and the typos.

Listen, Tiffany: I won’t bash self-publishing, but whoever is responsible for the printing of your book did you a terrible disservice. I found myself squinting at the pages like they were an aisle full of symbol-crammed nutrition labels in a supermarket in Japan. (Next time, don’t let anyone talk you into using an unserifed font).

Unfortunately, the story itself offers little in the way of redemption. Overmuscled descriptions crowd the pages, but somehow manage to be vague and disconnected at the same time; inconsistencies trip up the momentum of reading; and all of this is spearheaded by a superficial trio of grown women inexplicably haunted by mundane social episodes from grade school. (Woe betide the day Melissa Mattison brought that Garfield the Cat pencil to school!)

The heroines themselves are fighting Romigh over this one. They are women in their late twenties, who attended college and rush through fast-paced jobs surrounded by glamor. They have bustling lives in the City of Angels—so they ought to have much bigger fish to fry. Romigh tries to acknowledge this when one of her narrators brags, “Instead of not having a date to homecoming, red carpets and Hollywood nights are now a part of my weekly routine.” After that declaration I was eager to hear war stories about catty actors and pushy paparazzi.

Unfortunately, none were forthcoming.

Romigh makes the choice to leave the flashy Hollywood night life to dwindle in the margins, while pushing her characters ruthlessly back into the sand of the schoolyard. Intriguing as that could have been, Romigh doesn’t have the clarity of purpose to make it work.

I feel bad for Romigh, who just might have a good story to tell—but she needs a skilled editor to help tease it out of this morass. No mere rubber band could stretch far enough.

Skip Elasticity, grab a glass of whatever is chilling in your refrigerator and spend a day lying on the front porch enjoying the fall colors.

– Noir

Editor’s note: Welcome Noir to Chick Lit and Wine! Back in California from Nara, Japan, Noir is a talented author joining our team. Full introductions coming soon.