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Informationen zum Autor Leanne Toshiko Simpson is a mixed-race Yonsei writer who lives with bipolar disorder. Named Scarborough’s Emerging Writer in 2016 and nominated for the Journey Prize in 2019, she co-founded a reflective writing program at Canada’s largest mental health hospital and teaches at the University of Toronto. Never Been Better is her debut novel. Klappentext A hilariously offbeat and tender comedy about one bipolar woman’s messy search for love at a seaside wedding where no one can stay afloat. Is she falling in love, or falling apart? Dee, Misa, and Matt were the "three musketeers" of the psych ward. A year after discharge, Dee is eager to convince everyone that she’s finally turning things around. But Matt and Misa are tying the knot in Turks and Caicos, surrounded by guests who have no idea where they met, and the secrecy isn’t sitting well with Dee, who has been hopelessly in love with Matt since before she got kicked out of the hospital. So, when Dee arrives at the swanky resort with her high-voltage sister, Tilley, it’s now or never to confess how she feels. But disrupting her best friends’ nuptials would jeopardize the entire support system that holds the trio together. When it comes to happily ever afters, how is a girl supposed to choose between love and recovery? Leseprobe 1 "Crazy in Love" -Beyoncé ft. Jay-Z (3:56) When my invitation for Matt and Misa's destination wedding arrived in the mail, Tilley pinned it to the dartboard in our kitchen. "'Accept with pleasure or decline with regret,'" she snorted as she read. "Why is there never a check box for 'drain the open bar with relative apathy'? Especially if they're not even giving you a plus-one." She yanked a couple of darts from the board and took five steps backward, bumping into the kitchen table. Narrowing her eyes, she whipped a single dart at the wall, then turned to me, noticing my pursed lips. "Are you okay?" I surveyed the damage. My sister had punctured the palm tree crest, but the perfectly staged photo of Matt and Misa on the invitation remained intact. Burly in an ink-blue suit, Matt had his arms wrapped around Misa, who was beaming in a blush satin dress. She glanced over her shoulder at him with a warmth that made me think of breakfast in bed, shared bottles of dinner wine, joint bank accounts-all the things I could barely imagine for myself. "He looks like he's going to absorb her," murmured Tilley, suddenly beside me. "Like a matrimonial sponge." "It's fine," I said a little too loudly. "I'm fine. I knew this was coming. I have prepared myself for this moment for months. Actually, excuse me because I have to go do this thing in the bathroom." I could feel the bad thoughts coming, so I panicked and deeply bowed at Tilley before speed-walking out of the kitchen and down the hall to our shared bathroom. Keep your cool. Keep your cool. I slammed the door just as I heard Tilley let out the largest sigh known to humankind. Ignoring her clomping footsteps coming toward me and the waterfalls building in my eyeballs, I scrounged through the medicine cabinet for a very old bottle of Listerine. Hands shaking, I poured a full serving into the lid, then scrunched my face as I tipped the shot of antiseptic into my mouth. Tilley knocked on the door. "Dee, can I come in?" "Nrghh," I said, swishing furiously. The mouthwash burned and my eyes teared up, but it felt good to control the discomfort. I spat into the sink, stuck my tongue out, and poured another capful. "Okay, so I mostly asked if I could come in to be polite, but you know I had to take the lock off the door after the last incident," Tilley continued. "So, I'm going to come in now, and I want you to promise me that you're not doing anything . . . you know, suicide-y?" I swished faster in defiance. "Nrghhh, nrghh...
