A lazy writer, overly addicted to generalization, she thinks that "British people" (whoever they are) are emotionally crippled booze addicts. Her thoughts are neither perceptive nor interesting and a lot of her material is old stuff - posh people talk differently from chavs, Britons love animals, salad cream is horrible, and cricket is boring. The teeth thing gets a thorough airing.
"This is a light, fluffy read that will be enjoyed by first-time visitors to Britain and even a few nostalgic British expatriates. It will disappoint those seeking serious analysis or original insights."" - Publishers Weekly
She comes over like a smug self satisfied New Yorker who spent a weekend in London. The book reads like some of the swathe of "Brits don't rinse dishes" or "yuk, Marmite" type of posts you see on this forum, actually.
