Early Preview Reader Review of My Brain & Other Beautiful Disasters by David Dineley

As someone who lives with both Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder (EUPD) and ADHD, reading My Brain & Other Beautiful Disasters felt at times like staring into a mirror. The writing rings with authenticity. It does not pander, it does not try too hard to impress, and most importantly, it does not feel contrived.

Danielle, the protagonist, is raw, infuriating, magnetic, and heartbreakingly real. Her spiralling thoughts, the compulsive sock-sorting, the mental paralysis under looming deadlines, and the violent emotional swings are depicted with such acute detail that I found myself nodding in grim recognition. These are not symptoms described clinically; they are lived experiences rendered through emotionally rich prose. It’s not only sincere, it’s brutal in its sincerity.

The humour absolutely comes through. Not in a sitcom-style, punchline sense, but in the dry, observational, sometimes gallows humour that often serves as a coping mechanism for neurodivergent people. There’s a wry, self-aware undercurrent throughout Danielle’s narrative voice that offers levity without undercutting the emotional depth. The avocado socks. The anxiety-induced detour into an alleyway right before a career-defining interview. The absurdity of podcast advice feeling both illuminating and patronising at once. These moments are quietly hilarious without ever betraying the darkness that coexists alongside them.

Importantly, the book does not glamorise or simplify the experience of living with these disorders. Danielle’s breakdowns, her volatile rage, her interpersonal wreckage, and the complex trauma surrounding help-seeking are all portrayed with a devastating honesty. The writing allows room for discomfort. As a reader with lived experience, I felt seen. As a reader with a critical eye, I found the structure tightly controlled and the emotional arcs well-earned.

Is it always easy to read? No. But nor should it be. Mental illness isn’t tidy, and this book respects that.

In summary, this book does not lack sincerity. In fact, its unflinching sincerity is its greatest strength. The humour is subtle, authentic, and deeply human. For those who know these struggles firsthand, this novel may offer rare validation. For those who don’t, it offers a powerful insight into the inner world of someone fighting a brain that does not behave on command. A beautifully messy triumph.