I related to many of Tate’s flaws ... But I wasn’t sure how typical our experiences were ... Tate doesn’t tell us. I found myself hungering for more psychological, historical and sociological insight into the intricacies and pitfalls of female friendship, not just into her own psyche ... I also longed for a more novelistic touch, to experience vicariously and viscerally the aching awkwardness of the moment you realize you’ve forever altered the tenor of the friendship ... At times B.F.F. felt like too claustrophobic a look at a phenomenon that’s so much bigger than her fallen-apart friendships, though I applaud Tate’s willingness to expose her shortfalls... and offer readers a way forward.
Tate explores these memories and her adult friendships with the same vulnerability that made Group such a captivating read ... an openhearted examination of the power of friendship from people who love us exactly as we are.