Marie Kondo earnestly believes that the objects she possesses want more than anything to please her, and that thanking them for their service, as if they are military veterans returning from combat, keeps them happy.  Silly girl.  The inanimate objects despise you and are silently plotting against you!  (See, I can do it, too, with the kooky anthropomorphizing.)

I realize that I missed the "Konmari" hype when this book first came out.  This title popped up as an available audiobook in my library's e-collection, and it sparked my curiosity.  Soon I realized, "Oh, THIS is what was being mocked on that one episode of The Simpsons.

Like many other readers, I started out interested in the premise that decluttering would be beneficial, but the further I got into the book, the more I recoiled from Kondo's rigid rules about sorting, discarding, and storing, and her weird relationship to inanimate objects.

Others have already made this connection, but Kondo reminds me of Adrian Monk, in the sense that she appears to have made OCD work for her career.  It seems she is making it work for herself, but there were definitely parts of the book where I got the queasy impression that she legitimately shows signs of mental illness, with little to no self-awareness.

Here are my takeaways:  Sort your stuff.  Figure out what to keep (nope, I won't insist everything needs to "spark joy" in me--sometimes I just need things or find them useful).  Find places for your things.  Nope, not going to switch to folding all of my clothes and putting them into drawers or boxes.  I am a hanger kind of girl.  My clothes told me they're "hanger" girls, too, so it's okay!  Nope, nope, nope on putting all the books on the floor and getting rid of some large percent of them.  The books are fine, not making any noise, so I'll leave them as they are.  No, I am not going to take things out of my purse every night, and put them each in their own special drawers and shelves for the night after thanking them.  For one thing, I hate purses, and use a messenger bag unless I'm going to a fancy-dress event.  For another, that's a stupid time-wasting ritual.

Don't waste your time with this book.  But I seriously look forward to delving into the parody:  The Joy of Leaving Your Sh*t All Over the Place: The Art of Being Messy.

Oh dear...