I always feel badly whenever I pan a book. I know what kind of effort and focus it takes to create one, and I don't envy the task this author has set for herself. Regrettably, though, this book has very little content, presented at length in a borderline offensive way.
I can sum up the content as I see it in a few short sentences: all women are the same, and everything they do that annoys you men (again, who are all the same), they do for love. I am not kidding, this idea comes up every three minutes, and even the word 'love' is always breathed in the most reverent My Little Pony voice you can imagine. Rather than discussion, communication, and compromise, men are told instead to understand and consciously manipulate the feelings of the women they love. We are shown how to craft the finest veneer we can with the least effort.
Women, meanwhile, are given not the message of "you're not really insecure and neurotic" or even the less committal "well, you are but you can fix it with your mate's help," but rather the bizarre message of "everything you think is insecure and neurotic really isn't, which is a good thing because you can't help it anyway."
So women, if you want to feel completely stereotyped and fade back into Victorian times, and men if you want to have all your feelings and needs and desires trivialized, mocked, and displaced in favor of rank emotional manipulation, this book is perfect for you.