My annoyance is that McInerney faults the book for insufficiently explaining why an intelligent, attractive young woman would stay with such a man:
...the maddening thing is that the narrator begins to see through her Henry Higgins early on, and is certainly wised-up to him as her narrating older self, and yet still allows herself to be Svengalied.
Could he be more clueless? You'd have to look long and hard for a Galatea who does not see through her Pygmalion.
They should have had a woman write the review.