Some books pull you in from the very first sentence; this one had me at the dedication. It reads: 'œTo my mother, who always says, 'If you’re bored, read a book.’' My mother said that too! (She also said, 'œI’ve never been bored in my life,' which was less helpful. So blamey! Like her head was a wonderland and mine must be empty inside!)

Sorry. Where was I?

Mother issues. We all have them. This wickedly entertaining novel showcases some especially dysfunctional examples of that first, most primal bond.

Woman No. 17 is the story of two women, each a bit deranged from mama drama, who come together and form a most unlikely (and destructive) friendship over the course of a scorching summer in the Hollywood Hills.

Lady Daniels is no longer speaking to her neglectful mother, even as Lady is busy raising a toddler and looking after her older son Seth, now 18, who mysteriously (and guilt-inducingly) doesn’t speak at all. Lady’s an impulsive woman: after kicking out her devoted second husband, she advertises for a nanny and'”without so much as asking for a reference'”hires the first young woman who comes to the door.

As it turns out, Lady’s new hire'”'œS' (short for Esther)'”may not be the most dependable employee. Unbeknownst to Lady, S is working through feelings about her own tough mother by adopting her characteristics: no makeup, blunt talk, binge-drinking and all. It’s performance art at its weirdest, and the chapters of Woman No 17 narrated by S are filled with both wonder and foreboding.

Both deliciously complicated women attempt to repair the damage of their upbringings even as their lives spiral further and further out of control. Lepucki anchors Lady and S’s wild ride with keen observations and sympathy for her unmoored creations'”their humanity shines through even in their most unhinged moments. Astute, nuanced, and sometimes laugh-out-loud funny, Woman No. 17 is the kind of book you’ll find yourself underlining, and it will stay with you long after you put it down.