UK Kirkus Review » If you've ever wanted to know what it's like to be a strip dancer, and why strippers do it, this memoir will enlighten you. We meet Burana in mid-strip, emblazoning a Playboy bunny motif on her midriff under the tanning lights. A stripper when she first left home, she then established a career in journalism but has now decided to spend a year back in the world of exotic dance, travelling right across the States. The reason? Her boyfriend in Wyoming's just proposed marriage, and she feels a need to revisit her past, lay it to rest and patch up 'gaps in [my] consciousness you could drive a truck through'. She feels 'called by some inner voice' to go on her own bachelorette odyssey - and so she embarks with the permission, if not the blessing, of her fiance Randy. Her first challenge is to choose a name to work under: she settles on Barbie Faust - after all, 'What's blonder than Barbie?'. Next, she goes to 'stripper school' in Florida to tighten up her moves. This leads to some amusing moments, such as when she learns to use a pole on stage. '"Uh...," I say, trying to cross one leg over the other way up there. I'm suddenly aware that I'm wearing nothing but heels, a thong and a torn-up old bra. I look at myself in the mirror and try not to wince at the range of cellulite puckering up where my thighs strain against the pole.... I lean back and the skin on my inner thighs makes a terrible noise - squeeeeee - against the pole as I slide slowly down.' Burana spares none of the detail, but it's layered up in such a breezy, acute manner that, rather than being depressed by the seediness, you're drawn into applauding her courage and curiosity. In her deft tackling of themes such as identity, loyalty, and why men really go to strip clubs, Burana has written an account that's both educational and entertaining. (Kirkus UK)