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I don't begrudge the author her grief, but I truly did not like this book. I had the same reaction to Wave as I did to Joan Didion's Year of Magical Thinking (which, as much as I disliked it, is at least better written than Wave.) While I fully recognize that both women suffered immense losses, their narratives come across as self-indulgent and privileged. So many people lost loved ones in the tsunami, but the author is among a highly select elite that can assume grief as a full time occupation for a half a dozen years and flit about around the world doing nothing more than wallowing. I am sure she was consumed by her grief, and, again, there is nothing wrong with that, but I guess I just really don't want to read about the self-indulgent way she went about it.