Feelings. So many feelings. This is tragic and funny and sweet and disturbing and moving and I am just a puddle of feelings. Eleanor is a truly magical character. Her distinctive perspective, her smartly written internal monologue, is a joy to read. There are so many clever turns of phrase and observations in this book. Eleanor is socially isolated and socially awkward, due to some pretty horrific past trauma that is revealed gradually over the course of the book. 
 At the start of the novel she seems content with a deeply solitary life defined by ritual and brisk, efficient self sufficiency. She performs her nondescript office job well, she has set pre- and post-work routines that get her through her days. She knows precisely what to eat and what to read and what to listen to and what to watch and what bus routes to take and where to shop and what crossword puzzles to do. She is highly intelligent. Yet she is alone. 
 This is no way to briefly describe Eleanor's emotional journey over the course of this book in a way that really does it justice. A short plot synopsis makes this sound like a cheesy Hallmark movie when it is so much more. It is perfectly accurate to say this is about Eleanor getting in touch with emotions that she could not let herself feel until the age of thirty. This is about a woman discovering who she is and what she wants and needs and deserves. It is about a lonely woman reaching out and finding desperately needed friendship and love from unexpected sources. Reading these last few lines, I know my summation sounds corny, but this is so well written. This book is never maudlin or contrived. It is not manipulative. It is beautiful mix of humor and heartache. Eleanor is a character whose unique experiences and personal idiosyncrasies will stay with me for a long time. 
 This is so, so, so good. I loved it