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Shy and cosseted, I developed a wide-eyed attraction to anything exciting or damaged. I idolozed women with those qualities but was ill-equipped to deal with them. I didn't even butter my own toast until I left home for college. No wonder I became a magnet for women who threw toast. And a magnet he was: to every neck-snappingly beautiful nutcase in sight. The story begins with Elizabeth, his ex-wife and the woman who wore Kabuki-style white make up. Martin never saw her without it...and she kept all her hair trimmings in a suitcase in a suitcase under the bed. Eventually she leaves him for his 29th birthday sends him a copy of American Psycho with a note I hope this doesn't happen to you. The result is a descent into a rakish experience of sexual manoeuvring. Brilliantly written, with an easy, self-deprecatory charm, we see Martin work his way through various madwomen until salvation: Ilene, who totally has his number... and makes him a better man again.