There is no feeling quite like reading Bill Cosby's Love and Marriage in January 2015.
It's a weird thing to willingly enter a world of delusional hypocrisy and stay there for 267 pages. It's even weirder to witness the utter mundanity with which Cosby tosses off sentences like, "It was in those basements that I tried to squeeze girls as if they were melons to see which ones might be ripe for going steady with me." His writing style is an unpleasant blend of insidiously creepy and mind-numbingly boring. I do not recommend Love and Marriage, nor would I recommend any of Bill Cosby's other 11 books.