A pretty weird feeling reading the latest from an author famous for writing fairly grim portrayals of poverty in places like Peru and the Dominican Republic, and finding it to be light and junk-foodish. Delightfully so. 
I gobbled up this tale by Mario Vargas Lhosa about a masochist and his “bad girl” in only a few days, with a real life example (not mine!) in my mind about the allure of a haughty, unrepentant, and essentially insecure woman in my head to remind me that it really could be a true story. I think it sort of fell away at the end, and it felt awkward at times, but overall a delicious read, even though it will never be considered one his his better ones. 4 stars.