"She hates the smell of newly mown grass, the ceaseless movement of the sea, the clackety clack of computer keyboards (which sounds like "mice MASTICATING"). She hates little old ladies. She hates scientists. She hates herself, and her body's disgusting functions. In fact, she hates the whole human race, "so unprepossessingly UPRIGHT, gangly, and so BARE," without fur or feathers: "Tiny despots in a universe that may be equally despicable."

She is grossed out by American suburbs and by the fat people who live there. She is incensed that people get horrible illnesses and die hideous, random deaths. And she is in an existential fury over the stupid, horrible meaninglessness of life, the absurdity of it all.

About the only things that Dot likes are sex with her husband, John, and dreaming about pie. "

Wow. I couldn't have said it better. More.